“The witchiest of them!” Dickie insisted. “She is likely the one who mixes the love spells, being the Matchmaker and all. Not to mention the fact that her closest confidante, the Countess of Grayling, iscalledthe Sorceress by many. Nevertheless, I will guard her secret with my life. She is my sister first, a sneaky enchantress second.”
They fell into a companionable silence as the ball carried on without them, the other guests barely noticing that the host of the occasion had disappeared. The eligible ladies and their mothers would soon enough resume their pursuit of Dickie but, for now, he had peace and quiet with his acquaintance, in that tucked-away corner of the ballroom.
No more than two minutes later, Dickie’s face blanched. “Oh, heavens no,” he whispered, looking over her shoulder.
Caroline discreetly peered back to see what he was looking at. A woman in a gaudy gown of burnished orange, with bright red ostrich feathers in her hair, stood perfectly still in the middle of the ballroom, searching like a hawk waiting for a mouse to pop out of its hideaway. She was vaguely familiar to Caroline, though Caroline could not quite place her.
“Lady Joan,” Dickie said, as if reading Caroline’s mind. “Formerly interested in Percival, but when he fobbed her off for my dear sister, she set her sights on me. Foolishly, I indulged her pursuit for a while, and now she will not leave me be. I could have sworn I ‘neglected’ to send an invitation.”
Caroline hid a laugh behind her hand. “Do you think that would stop a woman in love? Indeed, if you did not want her to be here, you should not have made it the only thing anyone has been able to talk about for two weeks.”
“My fameismy downfall. Considering my reputation, I shouldnotbe as well-liked as I am, but what is a charming man like me to do?” Dickie put on a dramatic grimace. “Come, Caro, join me in my escape.”
He opened a narrow door at the rear of the alcove, half-hidden behind a brocade drape and flashed his friend a grin. “This is the way to freedom, Caro,” he said, and disappeared into the passageway beyond.
Seized by the excitement, and the fact that she loved to discover how many secret entrances and corridors there were in the grand houses of England, she dove into the passageway before the door shut.
The beautiful, lively music of the orchestra faded to a muffled murmur, the passage lit by soot-stained lanterns that cast an eerie, sickly glow into the gloom. Still, it was better than absolute darkness, and with her heart racing giddily, Carolinefollowed the bobbing shape of Dickie, all the way to wherever the passageway might end.
As it turned out, the passage connected directly to the ornate and stately study that had once belonged to Anna’s father and then to Max, before finally being passed on to Dickie. It did not look like he had spent any time in there at all, the huge mahogany desk bare of correspondence and ledgers, the bookshelves unfilled, the old rugs still rolled up and leaning against the wall, a dust sheet covering the armchairs by the fireplace.
Not at all like Daniel’s study, where he spent the majority of his days when he was not doting on his wife and children and, less frequently these days, his sister. He had even turned one corner of his study into a sort of nursery, with soft cushions and toys for the children to play as he worked.
“You realize that you have to undertake duties as an earl, do you not?” Caroline teased. “Balancing ledgers, accounting for rents and expenditures, hearing the complaints of your dependents, ensuring your income is greater than what goes out—that sort of thing.”
Dickie made a retching sound. “Cease with such talk, or I shall suffer an apoplexy right here in this room. You sound like my brother.Andmy sister and my brother-in-law, now that you mention it. No one seems to want me to enjoy my new position for even a moment, before I have to consider the realities of it.”
“It is a great responsibility. You should not be so?—”
“Not another word!” Dickie pleaded, laughing helplessly.
Caroline smiled and whipped the dust sheet off one of the armchairs, sitting down on the creaking leather. “Very well. I shall say nothing.”
“Gratitude.” Dickie jumped up on the desk, swinging his legs.
“But, if I may, what is so terrible about Lady Joan? She appears to be a pleasant young lady, and I daresay I pity her if she has been unsuccessful withtwogentlemen in such a short span of months.” Caroline sank back in the armchair. “Not that I am not glad that Percival saw sense and fell hopelessly in love with Anna instead.”
Dickie shrugged. “She does not inspire me. She does not make me feel what I know Ishouldfeel for a potential bride. Yes, she is pleasant, but pleasant does not make the heart race and the mind grow dizzy with adoration. Now that I am an earl, I simply cannot settle for less than my match, in every sense of the word.”
“Has Anna not suggested anyone?” Caroline dug her fingers down the side of the armchair, her eyebrow raising as she felt the scratch of paper.
She pulled it out, the paper fairly new, but crumpled with the pressure of being shoved unceremoniously into that gulley. Curiosity led her to smooth it out, discovering it to be a rather sweet note:Must go to Raleigh’s and ask what book A was looking at in shop. Do not forget birthday.‘Not’ was underlined five times.
“I dare not ask her,” Dickie replied. “She will find me someone that I can grow to love, but I want it to be in bloom the minute we meet. That spark of passion that makes a person feel alive. Someone…” his gaze darkened “… who is everything I never knew I needed. “I am sure you know what I am talking about.”
Caroline did not, but she did not want to admit that to him. She had debuted a year later than anticipated due to her nerves, so she had thought she would be more than ready to enter society, but the entire ordeal of the Season had not been what she expected. She had been inundated with proposals and offers of courtship and endless requests to dance but had felt nothing for anyone. Not even the mildest compulsion to accept.
Her mother, Amelia, had tried not to show her disappointment. Even Daniel had been almost sympathetic, telling Caroline, “No matter. There is always next year, and the year after, and the year after.”
The ladies of the Spinsters’ Club, of which she was an honorary member, had been similarly encouraging, as they had all married somewhat later than most women.
Now, it was autumn, and the London Season would begin in a month or so, and Caroline was not ready for that, either. Part of her wanted to retreat altogether, and the other part of her just wanted it to be over, the decision of her future placed in someone else’s hands.
“Your brother must be pressuring you a great deal,” she said, eager to keep the focus on Dickie, rather than her own worrisome thoughts.
Dickie jumped off the desk and went over to the dusty side-table, finding a quarter-full decanter of brandy beneath a small canvas sheet. He poured two measures. “Not so much,” he confessed. “Regardless of how dearly my brother adores rules and duty, he has never pressured me in any matter. He gives pointed advice, makes not-so-casual suggestions, but he never outright commands anything of me.”
He handed her one of the crystal glasses and she gazed down into the potent amber liquid. “That surprises me.”
