Patrica Rice (11 page)

Jack heard the stem of the glass crack beneath the pressure of his fingers. Forcing himself to relax and look bored, he rose and prepared to depart. "Maybe someone ought to warn Hampton what he's getting into. Good night, gentlemen. It's been entertaining, but there's a certain little lady who's expecting me."

He walked off and was gone before they realized he had never explained what he'd been doing these past years.

* * * * 

"No, don't add the gold pins, Blanche! They are very lovely, but you will have to save them until you're older. The pearls will do fine. You will be prettier than any other girl there."

"Fustian!" Blanche glared in the mirror at her reflection. "I shall look a simpering idiot like all the rest. Why can I not wear cloth of gold like yours? You look like an angel just down from heaven. I look like a frumpy mushroom."

Carolyn smiled at her sister's nervous starts. Admittedly, virginal white tended to be tedious, but the extravagant gauze and lace of Blanche's ball gown were not exactly the common touch, and the lavender sash and embroidery enhanced her slender charms daringly enough. She would be a sensation, as usual, but she would not be persuaded.

"I don't have wings and you're not edible. You already have more suitors than you need. I don't know what you're worried about. Is there someone special you wish to impress?"

Carolyn's practicality always put a damper on any nervous hopes. Swinging around to observe her sister's elegantly draped gown, Blanche offered a reluctant smile. "No. I just thought it might be a pleasant change if I could be as beautiful as you. Your suitors are so much more interesting than mine."

Carolyn laughed. She had not spent half the attention on her own preparations as she had on Blanche's. She had bidden her maid merely to loop gold twine through her upsweep, added a chain of silver and gold to her throat, and, wearing a gown she had worn the year before, called herself ready. Admittedly, her maid had teased a few loose tendrils into curling about her ears and shoulders, but they did that normally enough before the evening ended.

She had no illusions about the men she would meet tonight. They had been attending her over five years now, and she was as heartily bored with them as they were with her. At one time or another, as fortunes waxed and waned, one or another of them would grow amorous and make an offer, but she had learned how to let them down lightly.

Among the older set, proposing to her had become a game of nothing ventured, nothing gained. Wagers had been won or lost in earlier years. Lately, there were few takers on a sure thing. Few had any interest in being rejected in an attempt to remove her from the shelf.

That was why Hampton's suit had caught everyone concerned by surprise, Carolyn knew. He had been an eligible
parti
on
the Marriage Mart for a decade but had never shown any interest in the favors waved before his nose in attempts to catch his jaded interest. Wealthy, titled, and young enough to be considered well-looking, he made many a young girl weep with envy when he escorted one of society's more mature widows onto the floor. The gossip about his misalliances with these more worldly women was discreet. He never gained the epithet of rake, for he seldom spared a second glance to the innocent.

His studious courtship of Carolyn had the
haut ton
all agog and puzzled her as well. She was neither worldly nor a widow. Not a hint of scandal attached to their relationship except in the fact that the courtship had lasted a good six months without an announcement. That in itself was a record of sorts. Hampton had never courted any woman, young or old, for that length of time, and Carolyn had never allowed any courtship to go on so long without a firm rejection. Wagers once more were rife.

Well aware of tongues flapping, Carolyn did nothing to encourage the wagers. She concentrated on seeing that Blanche was properly attended.

George Hampton's suit did not interfere with her goals, and aided it in many ways, so there was no reason to discourage him. She was well aware he had finally decided he needed an heir and had settled on her as older and more mature than the fresh crop of young innocents on the Mart. His less-than-romantic courtship caused her no pain. If she finally agreed to his proposal, it would be because she had finally decided she wished a family of her own, and he was wealthy enough for her not to fear he wanted her for her dowry. It seemed a good, stable way of venturing into the treacherous waters of matrimony.

But Blanche was still filled with romantic illusions and Carolyn had no desire to remove the misty film of fantasy from her sister’s eyes yet. The time would come soon enough when the more objectionable suitors were weeded out and Blanche began to realize that marriage was a financial proposition and not a romantic one. For now, let her believe in love. It might happen. Even fairy tales came true upon occasion.

Blanche and Carolyn entered the ballroom that night on their father's arms. As a wealthy widower, Henry Thorogood was much sought after himself, and he had no difficulty in amusing himself while keeping an eye on his two beautiful daughters. Still, it was on Carolyn that he relied to act as chaperone for Blanche's high spirits. She was quite capable in dealing with overardent young gentlemen.

Thorogood watched her through half-lowered lids as she smilingly refused one notorious rake and deflected a debt-ridden young lord with a request for some punch. Carolyn had learned propriety too well. Her natural happiness had become something much less animated, an artificial facade of smiles and gentle words that fooled the rest of the world but not her father.

Sipping his drink, he watched Carolyn's smile fade in weariness as she was momentarily left alone. The daughter he had known from infancy had been exuberant in her joy, passionate in her beliefs, dramatic in her sorrows. She had wept and laughed and infuriated alternately, until her eighteenth year. That was the year she had grown up, and he had not seen that girl again. As dutiful and pleasant as this new woman was, he rather missed the tempestuous girl. His eyes narrowed as he observed the two young men approaching her now.

Instantly aware that she was being watched, Carolyn raised her head with a renewed smile at George Hampton's approach. Garbed in sober black tailcoat and pantaloons, his immaculate cravat a masterpiece in simplicity, his stride one of noble arrogance and authority, he looked the part of wealthy aristocrat without need of the hauteur. He seldom smiled, but she sensed a pleased look on his face now as he caught her eye.

In idle curiosity, Carolyn turned her gaze to the man at the marquess's side. She knew George frequented White's and several other of the gentlemen's clubs, but he seldom introduced her to his male friends. She wondered occasionally if it was out of embarrassment because he had attached himself to a female without title whose wealth came from trade, but she did not let the question concern her much. He made a pleasant companion and they got along well enough. Still, she couldn't help wondering about the stranger he evidently meant to introduce to her.

At this distance Carolyn could tell only that the stranger was unfashionably weathered in a startlingly attractive manner. His rather longish brown hair had light streaks from the sun, and his eyes seemed much lighter than the rest of his bronzed face. His gray swallow-tailed coat fit comfortably to unfashionably muscular shoulders, and his impeccably tailored matching trousers did not hinder his long, eager stride. Dressed for comfort more than style, he exuded a self-assurance she found compelling. Unnerved by this sudden unexpected attraction to a stranger, she raised her gaze to search his face as they came closer. Shock brought her hand to her middle as if suddenly assaulted by a hideous pain, and the blood rushed from her face.

Her plight did not go unnoticed by the newcomer. Cold gray eyes swept over her without demonstrating any emotion, lifting in dark acknowledgment at accepting that he was the cause of her distress. At his side, Hampton seemed oblivious of her lack of response as he introduced his companion.

"Do you remember Chatham, Carolyn? I daresay he was before your time. He's been in India practically since you were in short skirts."

Carolyn managed a weak smile and extended her hand. "I am not so young as that, my lord. I remember Lord John from my first Season." As his callused brown hand closed around hers, she wanted to jerk away, but that would be demonstrating a childish emotion she no longer felt. She forced a more pleasant expression to her lips.

"He's a bit out of touch with the current crop of lovelies. I told him you would be happy to surrender a dance or two and introduce him to a few suitable misses. That sister of yours might be just in his style."

Carolyn's aghast expression went unnoticed by the nobleman pleased with his helpfulness to both friend and would-be fiancée.

Jack read her dismay without compunction and refused to release her hand. "I believe the musicians are beginning a waltz, Miss Thorogood. You were reluctant to try it when last we met. Shall we?"

With her intended standing by affectionately rewarding her with his smile for her compliance, Carolyn had little choice but to follow Jack onto the dance floor. She remembered a time when she had stubbornly refused to indulge in the decadent dance sweeping the fast set, even when the man she loved offered to teach her. After he left, it seemed scarcely a point worth defending.

She had been waltzing for years now, but defiance returned with just the touch of Jack's hand. She wanted to stomp her foot and slap him and tell him to behave. It would have been apropos back then when he had been whispering sweet nothings in her ear all night. Such behavior now would be singularly inappropriate.

"You cannot kill me with looks, Carolyn. Smile and put a pleasant face on it before someone remembers old gossip and reminds George." Jack slid his arm around her slender waist with the possessiveness of familiarity, swinging her effortlessly into the steps of the dance as he spoke. "You're more beautiful than I remember," he added, searching her face when she did not respond.

"And you're more arrogant," she retorted. Under the intensity of his scrutiny, she felt a flush staining her cheeks for the first time in years. Her fingers itched to smack him, but his long masculine physique held her firmly, and the familiar sensations she had not felt in years swarmed alive and well through her rebellious body. He could hold her like this for the rest of the night, and not a muscle would stir in protest.

"I see your temper has not cooled with the passage of time. I suppose you are the one who refused to see me yesterday. I did not expect to find you still in your father's house. I thought you would be married by now."

She hated the speculation in his eyes. The arrogant fool was wondering if she had waited for him. She would disabuse him of that notion immediately, if only she could find her tongue. "I have grown more fastidious with age," she finally gritted out between clenched teeth. She could feel the heat of his hand even through his glove and her gown. She hated him for reminding her of sensations better forgotten.

"So it seems. George is quite a catch. You cannot fear he is a fortune-hunter. When do you set the date?"

He asked that agreeably enough, and Carolyn glared up at him with suspicion. He seemed taller than she remembered, but then, George was nearly her height and she was accustomed to dancing with him. The white flash of Jack's teeth against his sunburned face irritated her, and she answered with as much aloofness as she could muster, "We have an understanding that suits us both, my lord."

"An understanding? How formal that sounds. Has he kissed you, Carolyn, or is that not part of the agreement? It would be damned hard to court you for long without stealing a few kisses, particularly for a man of George's rakish inclinations. How much longer before that understanding leads to something else, Carolyn? I'd like to lay my wagers on the winning side."

Rage rose in her, a blinding rage that made Carolyn want to scream and shout and kick and cause a scene right here in the middle of this elegant dance floor. Jack had always been able to rouse her ire with a word or a wink, but he had always appeased her quickly afterward. The memory of those tender scenes added fuel to the fires of anger. His insults this time would get no response from her.

"You have become an insufferable boor, Jack. It is lucky for us that my father intervened in time."

Carolyn's haughty disdain made Jack furious, and at the same time, her words pierced him like shards of hell. Five years he had worked and waited, abstaining from society, from the luxuries of civilization, from everything he had ever known, just so he might come back and look her in the eye once more.

He had been prepared to find her happily married with babes around her feet. She deserved that. He would never have wished her unhappy. But he had never imagined her like this, cold and bitter and haughtier than any princess. Something wasn't right here, and he'd be damned if he would let her slip through his fingers again without knowing why.

He deliberately ignored her harsh words. "When George spent hours raving about your pleasantness and agreeableness, I thought he'd got the wrong sister. Agreeableness is not what I remember most about you. I can see you haven't changed, so who is this Carolyn that George is talking about?"

His spiteful remark deserved no reply, and as the dance ended, Carolyn dropped his hand like a hot coal. She turned stiffly in search of George and grew tense at the sight of Blanche waiting with curiosity at his side, watching her and Jack. When Jack attempted to take her elbow to lead her back, she shook him off.

"Stay away from Blanche, Jack. I'll not have you spoiling her life." She could have added, "as you spoiled mine," but she would never admit that out loud.

He sent her a swift look, as if he heard the unspoken end to that sentence, but her lovely blue eyes had grown cold and stony and he found no evidence that he had heard aright. He turned his gaze to the young blond beauty waiting beside Hampton and shook his head. "By Jove, it's hard to believe we were ever that young. Are you certain she ought to be out of the schoolroom?"