Caroline breezed into the room at that moment, and Mason’s heart sped up. His eyes feasted on her beautiful face.
“Do not indulge Kate’s reckless whims, Mr. Hunt. I beg you.”
Hunt smiled. “Miss Harwood,” Hunt greeted.
Kate rolled her eyes. “Those men have been caught and the viscount has been informed of my pistols. All is well with the world.”
“Oh, that’s good then.”
Mason hitched up a brow. “Anything else I should know? Other weaponry, perhaps?”
“Why don’t you send for Mrs. Appleby to find out,” Caroline quipped.
Warmth spread through Mason at the mischief that flashed in her gaze. The bewitching woman had made a mess of his heart, and yet, in all his years of life, he had never felt as content as he did at that moment.
“Who is Mrs. Appleby?” Kate asked.
“She is the one who is called to search the woman at Bow Street if the need arises—and quite thoroughly, I might add.”
Hunt nodded. “That is why Bow Street employs her.”
“Well, I for one hope to never meet her again. At least not in such circumstance.”
Mason hadn’t missed the feverish look Caroline cast him. Christ, his body temperature rose just thinking about being the one to peel away the layers of material until she was stripped bare. He’d be guaranteed to search more thoroughly than Mrs. Appleby.
“If there is nothing else, I will take my leave,” Hunt said.
“You have plans tonight?” Mason asked. “If not, why do you not join us tonight? It will be a dinner and a simple gathering around a yule log.” Perhaps he could steal Caroline away for a few clandestine kisses while Hunt kept her sisters company.
“Yes, please stay,” Kate also hurriedly put in. “I have tons of questions about practice shooting.”
Mason chucked. Hunt stood no chance.
It seemed to be a Harwood thing.
Chapter 8
“Well?”
Caroline angled her head to Kate, sending her a questioning glance. “Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to speak to him?” Her sister nudged her chin at Lonsdale, who, along with Hunt, had been roped into playing cards with Clair. A small fire crackled in the hearth, and the tightly dawn curtains obscured the windows, keeping the cold air that pressed against the glass far from their view and hearts.
“I spoke to him moments ago.”
“You’ve scarcely spoken to him at all.”
Caroline blushed. She’d been nervous all day, ever since Kate had brought that fateful question to her. What did she want?
“Lonsdale is fond of you, you know.”
“Being fond of someone is no hardship,” Caroline said. “Accepting a person’s flaws is much harder.”
“I suppose that is true,” Kate agreed. “However, dear sis, from what I observe, it seems as though he has already accepted you and that you are the one struggling to accept him.”
“That’s not. . .”
“True?” Kate scoffed. “Then what exactly are you afraid of?”
