“So, itmustbe sorcery?” Caroline scoffed. “You are ridiculous. Love is rare in many ways, but common in many others. Why, you are like someone who does not believe lightning exists because they, themselves, have never been struck by it.”
He did not laugh but kept staring at her until a footman appeared at the carriage door and prevented her from ever knowing what he might have said to that.
“Shall we?” he said instead, offering his hand to help her out.
She accepted, steeling herself for the evening to come. Indeed, there was one small mercy in the awkwardness of their journey over; she had not thought about what gossip she might be forced to hear, what scorn she might face, what unkind remarks might be tossed in her direction.
They headed up the porch steps and through a set of white double doors, Max passing his invitation to the footmen at the entrance before they were allowed to step into the marvelous foyer of the Viscount Mowbury’s residence.
But before Caroline could pay any attention to the exquisite crown molding and ceiling roses above or the three-tiered chandelier or the unusual but very appealing light oak wainscoting or the gorgeous tiling on the floor, she looked for the color of the first gown to greet her eyes.
The trouble was, there was no single gown that she saw first. A trio and a cluster of ladies stood by the staircase and by the windows respectively, but Caroline noted them all at once, aswell as the color of their gowns: pinks, yellows, blues, purples, and two shades of green among them.
What doesthatmean?
Her stomach roiled with nerves, for if Max truly did petition for an annulment, her reputation would be at risk of ruination yet again.Hewould have to take the blame and make it known in society that the blame was his, but glancing at him, Caroline’s heart sank. After all he had done for her, it would be a final insult to his generosity.
“Is that Lady Caroline?” the woman in a lighter shade of green whispered to her friend in the darker green. A bitter irony.
The lady in darker green turned up her nose. “Quite wretched of her to show her face, I should say. Have they no shame?”
“It is hardlythatsurprising. Did her brother not begin courting one woman, only to end up marrying her older sister?” a woman in blue interjected.
A lady in pink nodded. “Thisis why one must never associate with any sort of group that champions spinsterhood, particularly one who takes patronage from the Silver Widow. It is improper, and can only lead to?—”
“Marryingextremelywell?” a young woman in yellow chimed in with a chuckle. “And I did not see any of you denigrating the Spinsters’ Club when you were desperately writing your lettersto the Matchmaker, nor praying for an invitation to the Countess of Grayling’s summer extravaganza.”
Caroline caught the woman in yellow’s eye and dipped her head in a nod of thanks. The woman nodded back, flashing a wink.
“That was different!” the lady in jade green protested. “Theyhave not caused a scandal.”
“Neither have they,” the woman in yellow continued to defend. “They fell in love, they courted in secret, they married—where is the crime in that?”
The lady’s friends had nothing to say to that, their loud whispers fading into under-the-breath mutterings.
“You are making new friends already,” Max whispered, covering her hand with his where it rested on the crook of his elbow. “I told you; you have nothing to worry about.”
Caroline peered up at him, forgetting that she was angry with him, forgetting that she had ever mentioned an annulment. “It feels… good to be back among society, but I do miss Harewood Court. I miss the apple tree; I miss the rose gardens; I miss the sun room; I miss the afternoon walks. I miss Powder Puff, though she is sulking in my bedchamber as we speak.”
“Sulking? Wherever did she learn such a thing?”
Caroline rolled her eyes at him, hiding her amusement. “Did I tell you that she was quite adamant that I would not be leaving her tonight? She kept chasing my skirts all around the bedchamber, trying to claw at them. If it had not been for Lila, I am certain she would have shredded them to ribbons.”
“Rather, I think she would have liked to come along,” Max said playfully. “We could have purchased a little gown for her, put a tiara between her ears, and some silk gloves for her forelegs. She would have been the belle of the ball, and no mistake.”
Caroline laughed brightly, imagining such a thing. “I could have set her upon anyone who said something unkind. They would not have gossiped again.”
“If anyone could be such a persuasive warrior for your honor, it would be her.”
Caroline gave his arm a light squeeze, shocked as ever by the prominent muscle that bulged beneath his tailcoat sleeve. “You are not doing too badly, despite how I might behave sometimes.”
“That might be the nicest thing you have ever said to me,” he replied, smiling. “We ought to find drinks so that we may toast to this momentous occasion, in case it never happens again.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “I shall set Powder Puff onyouif you say such a thing again.”
“And she would nuzzle against my neck and infuriate you twice as much,” he said with a pleased look on his face.
She could not deny that he was right. Powder Puff adored him and had never so much as hissed at him. But she was not thinking about the beloved cat; she was thinking about his words, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle into his neck, losing herself in his unique perfume of woodsmoke, soap, and sandalwood.
