Elizabeth Mansfield (11 page)

He looked down at her with a twinkle. “In the first place, ma’am,” he scolded with mock severity, “I find being taken as a hero utterly embarrassing and quite undeserved. In the second place, there’s been quite enough of thanking. And finally, Miss Whitlow, if you truly believe you’ll not see me again, you have too little appreciation of your own charm or my resolve.”

She found herself reddening again. “I don’t think I understand ... ?”

He met her eyes with brazen directness. “If you don’t understand me now, ma’am, I promise you soon will.”

THIRTEEN

Caro leaned her forehead against the door for a moment after Mr. Terence left and took a deep breath. Then she lifted her head, turned about, and flew across the floor to where Letty had just risen from the sofa. In a quick swoop, she gathered the frail woman up in her arms, swept her off her feet, and whirled her about the room, humming a waltz tune.

“
Caro,
”
the elderly woman cried breathlessly, “have you gone mad? Let me down!”

Caro, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks pink, stopped her spinning and, laughing, set Letty gently on her feet. “I’m sorry, dearest,” she said, kissing the withered cheek. “I just felt like dancing.”

“Did you, indeed?” Letty muttered dryly as she tried to catch her breath. She dropped into a chair and fanned herself with her hand. “I wonder why.”

“You know perfectly well why,” Caro retorted, grinning. “You liked him, too, didn’t you?”

“He seemed pleasant enough,” Letty said blandly.

“Pleasant enough?” Caro regarded her suspiciously. “Is that all you can say about him? Pleasant enough? Didn’t you find his eyes remarkable? His face manly? His hair dark and thick? His address assured? His comments witty? His smile delightful?”

Letty looked back at her with a noncommittal shrug.

Caro floated to the door. “Very well, say nothing. I understand. You think it’s midsummer moon with me. I’m in alt. Smelling of April and May. And you’re quite right, dearest Aunt, quite right. But I rather like being in the clouds. It’s a rare feeling for me.”

“Is it?” Letty asked, studying the girl from the corners of her eyes, her head cocked like a bright-eyed bird but her expression enigmatic.

“Oh, yes, very rare. A first, really. So, dearest, let me remain in the clouds for a little longer. Don’t bring me down to earth just yet. If you’re not going to sing his praises to me, I’ll ask you to excuse me so that I can go up to my room and sing his praises to myself.”

Letty shrugged again. “Very well, my love. Go along, if you must.”

Only when the door closed on the girl did Letty permit herself to smile. It was, like that of the proverbial cat who’d swallowed the canary, a smile of utter satisfaction.

FOURTEEN

Mr. Terence waited only a day before inviting Caro to take a drive with him in his phaeton. Caro found it a most enjoyable outing, except that every time she asked him something about himself, Mr. Terence noticed something interesting in the view and quickly pointed it out. The man was, despite his charm and good looks, strangely evasive. Nevertheless, Caro later said to Letty, her eyes shining, that she’d never found London so much to her liking.

The next day, Kit, emboldened by the success of the previous day’s outing, repeated the invitation, but this time he included the boys. He warned both of them in advance to be careful not to address him as Kit. “I’ve heard that bungling names is the most common mistake that actors make,” he explained, “and in a sense we’re actors in this affair.”

His warning was not completely effective. There was one bad moment. It occurred when an ornate carriage passed them by. “Oh, look, Kit,” Gilbert cried excitedly, “isn’t that the prince?”

At Gilbert’s spontaneous use of his real name, Kit felt himself flush in alarm. But no one, not even Caro, noticed it. Everyone had turned to look at the passing equipage. “Yes, it’s Prinny himself!” Arthur declared, pointing to the crest at the side of the royal carriage. They all gasped when the royal personage within, who’d heard the boys’ cries, actually turned, smiled, and waved at them. In the excitement of this encounter with royalty (and to Kit’s intense relief), no one else noticed Gilbert’s slip.

In the week that followed, there were three more outings, two with Caro alone and one with the entire household, including Letty. Letty also invited him twice to join them for dinner. These events were all exceedingly pleasurable. Kit was becoming convinced that Caro was finding him a likable companion. A few more occasions like these, he thought, and he’d feel secure enough of her approval to be able to tell her the truth.

He knew he’d have to tell her soon. For one thing, he was extending his London stay much too long. For another, it was clear that he couldn’t maintain this false guise indefinitely. Already matters were growing awkward. She was beginning to notice that he was avoiding escorting her to public places. But how could he
not
try to avoid crowds? Although it had been many years since he’d made the social rounds in London, there were several people who might still recognize him—fellows from school, for example, or someone who’d been with him in the dragoons, or old friends of the family. Running into an old acquaintance could lead to disaster. He couldn’t take such a risk.

His fear of that danger was responsible for one of his worst moments with Caro. It occurred after one of Letty’s dinners. Caro escorted him to the door, a practice that he usually enjoyed, for in those private moments there was a feeling of comfortable intimacy between them. That evening, however, Caro remarked casually that she would like to find an escort to a ball being given by an old friend of Letty’s. When he heard those words, Kit’s spirit plummeted. As Mr. Terence, he couldn’t escort her to a large, crowded ball. What if an old friend from his school days should come up to him when he was in her company and cheerfully greet him by his real name? That would surely spoil everything. Therefore, while Caro searched his face for a response, Kit pretended not to understand her hint and spoke of something else. However, the pretense—and the look of confusion in her eyes—made him miserable. He knew then and there that Mr. Terence’s time on earth was growing short.

He couldn’t take her to the ball, but, he thought, he could arrange another type of special evening that would please her ... one that would be less dangerous. To that end, he called at Mortimer Street early the next day and extended an invitation to both Caro and Letty to accompany him to the opera at the King’s Theatre in the Haymarket. “I’ve managed to procure a box,” he said eagerly. “Catalini is singing. I’ve never heard her, but everyone says she’s a wonder.”

Caro seemed to hesitate before accepting, but Letty acquiesced with pleasure. When he left, Letty turned to Caro curiously. “Is something wrong between you and Mr. Terence?” she asked. “You seemed a bit reluctant to accept the invitation.”

“I’m confused, Aunt Letty,” Caro said worriedly, sinking down on the sofa. “I don’t know what Mr. Terence wants of me.”

“Wants of you?” Letty echoed, her smile fading.

“Yes. Is he courting me or is it merely companionship he’s seeking while his business keeps him in London?”

Letty sat down beside the girl, not knowing how to answer this frank and troubling question. “What is it you want of
him,
my love?” she asked.

“Perhaps it’s too early in our acquaintance to be certain. But it’s beginning to appear that I’m more eager to be courted than Mr. Terence is to do the courting.”

“What makes you think so? Has Mr. Terence done something out of the way?”

“Not exactly. But sometimes his behavior is strange. He’s very eager for my company for riding in the park or for dinner here with the family, but he evades all personal questions and he seems reluctant to appear with me in public groups. When I hinted that I’d appreciate an escort to the Drummonds’ ball, he changed the subject.”

“But he’s taking us to the King’s Theater tomorrow,” Letty pointed out in his defense. “That’s as public as a place can be.”

“Yes, that’s true. But it’s a theater, and for the most part dark.” She sat for a moment in silence. “Perhaps I’m being missish,” she said after a while. “We women can be overly sensitive at times. But it seems to me that ...” Her voice died, and she looked down at her hands, the fingers tightly interlocked.

“What, dearest? Tell me.”

The girl’s lashes flickered against her cheek, signaling an inability to meet Letty’s eyes. “...that ... that he doesn’t want anyone to believe he’s ... he’s in any way
attached
to me.

Letty didn’t know what to say. She knew Caro had formed an attachment to Mr. Terence. But Kit was not Mr. Terence. And though in his role as
Mr. Terence,
he appeared to feel an attachment to Caro, that did not necessarily mean that
Kit
felt it. Kit’s expressed purpose for this whole charade was a desire to win Caro’s good graces so that she would accept her legacy. Once he’d achieved that goal, he would be, in effect, rid of all responsibility for her. Would he then still want to see her? Letty did not know. He had not said anything about his feelings, and she hadn’t asked. If there was anything of courtship in his behavior, she couldn’t say ... and didn’t dare to guess. “Perhaps the wisest thing you can do, Caro dear,” she advised, rising and reaching for her cane, “is to wait and see.”

“Yes.” Caro sighed. “That’s all I can do.”

FIFTEEN

The evening of the opera began with happy expectations. Caro and Letty dressed for it in their finest evening clothes. Letty wore her best black lace and a brocaded turban trimmed with peacock feathers. Caro wore a raisin-colored lustring gown which she’d brought with her from the Grange but had never before had the courage to wear. It had been a bit daring for country assemblies in Shropshire, with its bare shoulders and tight bodice. But she’d always loved the dark color with its glints of red, the wide velvet bow set just under the breast, and the way the skirt fell in soft, clinging folds from the high waist. It would not be too daring for the King’s Theater in London, she told herself. Besides, she wanted Mr. Terence to take notice. The last time she’d dressed to please a man’s eyes, it had been for Mr. Lutton. She’d carefully selected a sedate blue muslin with a high collar, and much good that had done her!

Later, after she’d put on the gown and placed among her curls a jeweled pin that Letty had insisted on lending her, she studied herself in the mirror dubiously. Had she overdone it? Were her shoulders too bare? Was the silky lustring too great a contrast with her pale skin? Was the jeweled pin too ostentatious? But it was too late. She could hear, downstairs, that Mr. Terence had arrived. She hurried to the stairs, pulling on a pair of long white gloves.

At the bottom of the stairway Mr. Terence, resplendent in a new black evening coat and satin breeches, stood gazing up at her. One glance at his face and all her doubts vanished. If ever a man’s eyes showed admiration, they did now.

Letty came up beside him. “You are a vision, Caro, my love,” she said with a pleased smile.

“What flummery,” Caro said, blushing.

“No, not flummery at all,” Mr. Terence assured her. “You will distract every man’s eyes from the stage.” Then, with a little bow to both ladies, he offered each one a charming nosegay. “To have two such beauties on my arms will make me the most envied man in the theater.”

The flowers, the extravagant praise, and the atmosphere of celebration made for a merry beginning of the evening. They climbed into his carriage in high spirits.

For the first three hours, it was a lovely occasion. Madame Catalani was in fine voice, the music was magnificent, the surroundings sumptuous. At the intermission, Mr. Terence bought them champagne. During the second act and well into the third, Caro felt his arm on the back of her chair, warm and protective and affectionate. Her fears were groundless, she decided. She’d never felt so happy.

Kit, too, was happy. Seated between his favorite aunt and this lovely young woman, listening to Handel’s lushly melodic music, he felt all his cares evaporate. At one point, when Catalani was particularly impassioned, Caro turned her head slightly, and he felt her rub her cheek against the back of his hand. That simple act caused a joyful constriction in his chest. She
must
like him, he thought. The little gesture was proof. Life was good. He would soon tell her the truth, and everything would be well.

The feeling lasted barely a moment. In the next moment, he recognized a man he’d served with in Spain seated just a few boxes away. It was Jack Higgins, an officer who’d sold out shortly before Salamanca. He was a hearty, backslapping sort, with whom Kit had spent many a raucous, drunken evening. If Jack spotted him, he would surely shout out his name. Kit could guess his very words: “Kit Meredith, you old blackguard! Is it you?” And everything would surely be lost.

Kit hastily turned in his seat. He spent the remaining two acts of
Semiramide
sitting awkwardly sideways, praying that the fellow would not recognize the back of his head.

Caro’s attitude became more reserved after that, but so great was Kit’s relief at not having been recognized that he dismissed it from his mind. When they returned to Mortimer Street, however, Caro’s mood remained cold. What had he done? he wondered. Had she noticed his strange behavior?