Lady of Pleasure (12 page)

He smiled. “You are most welcome. Time I have. And it is my hope you procure it. You will see me again the moment they cue the waltz.” He inclined his head. Still holding her gaze, he edged away and then turned and strode off into the crowds with a gloved hand set against his back as he wove around people. Halfway through the masses, he peered back at her one last time, as if to see if she were watching him. He slowly grinned.

Inclining his head once again, he disappeared.

Something told her she should have never given him that waltz. A waltz involved three minutes of close proximity, touching and a woman’s skirts flying against a man’s trousers. Damn it.

She paused, realizing her mother wasn’t about. Where did the woman go? Turning to her brother, Caroline waved a hand toward him from behind another man’s back and caught his gaze. She mouthed at him, “
Where is Mama
?”

Alex discreetly held up an apologetic gloved hand, asking for her patience as he finished his conversation.

It was going to be a long night.

She flicked open the fan dangling from her wrist and waved it back and forth before her heated face. The cool rhythm of the breeze she created reminded her just how hot the room really was. Biting her lip, she discreetly scanned the room from above her fan in the hopes of seeing Caldwell. Sadly, he was nowhere in sight. He might have even left. She sighed. Trying to get any amount of time alone with that man was like trying to breathe under water.

Someone leaned in, bringing the refreshing scent of rose water into the frowsty air. “I, along with the entire ballroom, saw the ever respectable Lord Gifford escorting you back into the room,” her mother drawled. “You go out to meet one man of ill-repute and sweep back in with one of great repute. Brilliant. Even I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Caroline snapped her fan shut in exasperation and released it, letting it dangle from the velvet string attached to her wrist. “I can assure you, it wasn’t planned.” She swiveled toward her mother.

Dowager Hawksford lingered, sinfully adorned in a low-cut, emerald satin gown that tapered off ivory shoulders. ’Twas a gown her brother had complained about
all
evening. Because in his opinion, it was too decadent for a woman in her fifties.

Men.

The dowager’s jovial emerald green eyes flicked over toward Alex and then back to her. “Come.” Tucking her gloved hand into the crook of Caroline’s arm, she whisked them off in the opposite direction.

They bumped their way through the crush of people and didn’t slow their pace until they were on the other side of the ballroom, away from conversing and dancing crowds. They veered toward a quiet, candlelit corner. Caroline knew her mother well enough to say the woman
never
sought out quiet corners during events unless it involved serious conversation.

Peering over at her mother, she blurted, “Am I in trouble?”

Her mother laughed. “No. I merely wanted to speak to you away from your brother and the crowds.” She leaned in. “So what happened with you and Caldwell? Out with it.”

Remembering the velvet heat of Caldwell’s tongue dragging against her throat sent her pulse skidding and her skin tingling. Caroline regally pressed her fan against her chest, feeling exquisite. “He kissed my throat and embraced me like the queen that I am. It was like eating cake with fresh berries. Only better.”

“Cake and fresh berries. Only better. My. What a comparison.” Her mother quirked a brow. “
And
? Do finish.”

Caroline lowered her chin. “There was no ‘and.’ He kissed my throat affectionately and embraced me. That is all.” She bit back a smile, just thinking about it. “’Twas perfect. It was so romantic.
He
was romantic.”

A bubble of a laugh escaped her mother which she quickly covered with the tips of her satin-gloved fingers. “Caldwell? Romantic?
Hardly
. My footman offers me more romance and he only opens the door and carries all of my boxes for me after I go shopping. Caldwell is pretty to look at, I will give you that. Though not much more.”

Caroline gave her mother a withered look. “And what do you know of romance and love, Mama, outside of what happens in a bed?”

A fan hit Caroline’s shoulder. “I’m still your mother.”

Caroline pursed her lips. “I don’t appreciate you speaking ill of him. He hasn’t earned it, and no one knows him better than I.”

“I don’t think ill of him, dear. If I did, I wouldn’t have allowed you to slip out of the room to see him, would I? But I do think it is time you tell your brother what you feel for Caldwell. Before more than quiet alcoves and romantic embracing is involved.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at the thought of telling her brother. “I can’t. I would gladly tell him if I knew Caldwell was ready to commit, but it wouldn’t be right for me to do it prior. I don’t want to say anything to Alex and then make everything awkward between all of us when nothing has been said or done. Whilst that embrace happened, yes, it’s fairly obvious Caldwell still doesn’t know how to go about initiating me. You have no idea what I had to go through to collect that embrace. I had to beg for it. He was incredibly nervous, and I don’t want to push him any harder than I already am.”

The dowager lowered her voice. “Caroline. The man is financially ruined.
Ruined
. According to his uncle, he barely drags in three hundred pounds a year from the estate his father left him. Surely, that doesn’t appeal to you.”

Caroline tapped at her mother’s fan which was still positioned toward her like a bayonet. “It’s only money, Mama. I’m worth eight thousand a year for life. I think I can well afford to love him and still have children. Now are you for or against me in this?”
Her mother sighed. “I’m certainly not against you.” She hesitated before gently adding, “His uncle is about. Come. Let us go speak to him and see what we can do.” She swept them both out of the ballroom altogether and toward an even quieter section, away from the crowds in one of the galleries. There, leaning against the stoic bust of Lord Whittle’s great-grandfather, with a half-empty glass of wine in hand, was a gray-haired gent whose ivory waistcoat could not hide a touch of a belly protruding forth from his evening jacket.

Despite the belly, he was rather distinguished.

It was none other than Caldwell’s uncle, Lord Hughes. The last time she had seen him was when he had delivered flowers to their house after her father’s funeral well over a year ago.

Her mother announced their presence by saying, “Forgive us for interrupting what appears to be a quiet moment, Hughes.”

Lord Hughes quickly finished his wine with a toss and set it on the ledge of the bust beside him, nudging it into place so it wouldn’t fall. “Nonsense. There are no quiet moments in life.” He stepped toward them, took her mother’s hand and bowed ardently over it, kissing it. “You look exquisite, as always.”

The dowager withdrew her hand and smirked. “How kind of you to lie to a woman my age.”

Hughes adjusted the sleeves on his evening coat. “I never lie to beautiful women. No matter their age. It’s my way of ensuring I don’t go to hell when I die.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. She had no doubt her mother was enjoying the attention.

Turning toward Caroline, Lord Hughes placed both gloved hands behind his back, genuine brown eyes observing her. “Dearest God have you flourished since I last saw you. You look thirty. Bravo.”

Apparently, that was a compliment.

Hughes edged toward her mother and drawled from the side of his mouth, “Perhaps we ought to invite her to our upcoming gathering, and assign her to Ronan for the night, eh? I have no doubt if you gave those two time alone they would—”

The dowager smacked her fan soundly against the man’s arm. “I’m liberal, Hughes, but not
that
liberal. Your parties are anything but legal.”

“Yet you gleefully fund, organize and attend every last one with me and the boys.”

Her mother tsked. “Invite her to parties that involve clothing. They are just as divine.”

He chuckled. “And what fun is that?” Lord Hughes leaned in closer to her mother and added in a huskier tone, “So when am I going to have a chance at you? Maybe this upcoming event? Hm? Because once I marry, it’s done. It’s over. The trousers stay on.”

The dowager smacked him with her fan again.

Caroline eyed them. Apparently, something was going on between these two. And she prayed it wasn’t
that
sort of something “Mother?” she inquired. “Are you and Lord Hughes…?”

Her mother’s lips pursed. “Of course not. After your father, I only touch men under forty.” Her mother stared Lord Hughes down in annoyance before glancing toward the crowded ballroom well-beyond where they stood. “Hughes.” She lowered her voice. “Is your nephew interested in my daughter at all? Do you know? Is matrimony a possibility or is she wasting her time? She needs to know. More importantly, I do.”

Caroline’s brows rose. Her mother certainly knew how to get to the point.

Lord Hughes hesitated. “Well…I…that isn’t for me to say. Ronan has always veered away from matrimony for reasons he never talks about. Of course, one can’t blame him. His childhood wasn’t an easy one after his mother died. And his bastard of a father made his life a dismal one.”

Caroline’s throat tightened. It was a childhood Caldwell never talked about. One she had asked about throughout the years, but one he only superficially disclosed in pieces. All whilst averting his gaze.

Adjusting the sleeves on his coat, Lord Hughes added, “The truth is, Ronan is bound to the life of a gentleman with very little income and has an aunt who depends on his generosity. I only earn enough to assist him in maintaining his house which is about the only thing his father left to him that didn’t have a long list of debts attached to it. He has always struggled, mind you, but after the fire destroyed that ten thousand pound investment he had hoped would raise him out of murky waters, he never recovered.”

Caroline felt her stomach churn. She didn’t realize he was
still
struggling.

Heavy steps approached, making them pause.

Someone cleared their throat from behind. “Lord Stanley is in desperate need of a dance partner. So I naturally thought of you. Are you up for it?”

Caroline groaned, knowing her brother had found her.

Hughes gently tugged on Caroline’s arm, leaned in and whispered, “Ronan adores you. You are all he has ever talked about throughout the years. Don’t give up on him. He needs a good woman in his life.”

Her heart skipped. It was all she needed to hear.

Another hand grabbed Caroline’s upper arm from behind and yanked her back and away from Lord Hughes. She stumbled and glared over at her brother. “Alex, what are you— ”

Her brother stepped past and towered over Lord Hughes. He lowered his voice to lethal. “I don’t know what you just said to my sister, Hughes, but don’t
ever
whisper things to her again.”

Caroline smacked her brother’s shoulder from behind with her fan. Whatever she could reach of it anyway. “Cease being rude. He did nothing wrong.”

Alex spun toward her and glared down at her with blazing green eyes. “Do not argue the point of my intentions. This man’s lifestyle equates to the devil. And coming from me, those are heavy words. Now come. Lord Stanley is hoping for a dance.” Grabbing her arm, he tugged her toward the opposite direction and back into the ballroom.

Why couldn’t her mother have hired a
real
chaperone? One who wouldn’t humiliate her both in
and
out of the house? “Alex, please. I’m already exhausted and I promised the waltz to Lord Gifford.”

He glanced back at her, brows going up, but continued to lead her through the crowds all the same. “Gifford? You’re giving him the waltz? You never give men the waltz. What brought this on?”

She knew that look. “It isn’t what you think.”

“I’m not objecting.” His green eyes brightened. “In fact, I like Gifford. He has money
and
manners. If he proposes, you had better damn well accept or I’ll marry him for you.”

Leave it to her brother to take over the conversation
and
her life. “I don’t like him in that way, Alex.”

“Too many freckles?”

“Don’t be absurd. It has nothing to do with his freckles. He is incredibly dashing. I simply have no interest in him as a man.”

“I see. Well, before you up and judge the man, think on this: money aside, he already has four sons waddling about his estate.
Four
. What does that mean to you? That means there won’t be any expectations for you to have any heirs. Because he already has them. It’s like showing up to a dinner party you don’t have to plan.
Done
.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you listened to yourself, and the way you talk sometimes, maybe you would understand why I never come to you for advice. And despite what you think, I am
not
dancing with Lord Stanley. He makes snide remarks about his servants, and picks his nose when he thinks no one is looking.”

He laughed. “You sound annoyed with me.”

“I am annoyed with you. As of late, you only ever want to talk to me when it involves potential prospects. As if that is the only conversation I am worth. I’m insulted. And that is an understatement.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. This whole business of trying to get you married off is not what I aspire to do. Neither is the Season itself.” He sighed again. “I’ll have our mother take you to these things from here on out. All right? Do you want to go home?”

“I can’t. I promised Lord Gifford a dance.”

He hesitated. “I like Gifford. Did I tell you that?”

Oh, God. “Yes. You told me that.” She sighed and followed her brother left and right for the rest of the night, demurely accepting superficial introductions and conversing with a long list of men who spoke to her about the world and life as if she were three. Or at best…four.

She really hated being a woman sometimes.

The tapping of violin strings from the orchestra on the other side of the room suddenly announced the upcoming waltz.