A Very Scandalous Fairbanks Christmas (Those Very Bad Fairbanks #14)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

C aroline hurried through the dimly lit corridor, her heart thrumming with anticipation as she clutched the riddle in her hand.

A secret waits where few may go.

Amidst the books both old and wise,

A treasure hides from prying eyes.

Seek the whispers, soft and low,

Where midnight oil dares to glow.

It had to be the library. She glanced around and noted that other couples were splitting off in different directions, each eagerly following their own cryptic clues. Her gaze involuntarily flicked to Daniel, who strode the opposite way, disappearing down another hallway without a single glance in her direction.

Caroline wrenched her thoughts away from him with sheer force of will. She was already irritated enough that for the past two nights, she had relived their kiss in her dreams—a kiss he did not seem remotely affected by.

If anything, he had been completely indifferent since that night. Since their conversation out in the snow, they had not spoken privately again. They had only interacted in the presence of her cousins and their husbands, and though there were times when she felt his gaze settle on her, whenever she sneaked a peek, his expression was unreadable, his eyes guarded.

She despised how aware she had become of his every movement, how much she longed to know what he was thinking when his gaze lingered. And yet, tonight was not the night to dwell on a man who had made his stance perfectly clear.

The library doors loomed ahead. Pushing them open, she stepped inside. The warm scent of parchment and polished wood enveloped her as she entered. The space was vast, with towering shelves of leather-bound tomes, their gilded spines glinting in the soft candlelight.

A large stone fireplace stood at the far end of the room, its embers glowing a dull orange, casting flickering shadows along the Persian rug that stretched beneath her feet.

Plush armchairs were scattered near the hearth, along with a mahogany desk cluttered with quills and inkwells, remnants of whatever correspondence had last been penned here. The fire crackled softly, the only sound space, making the room feel both intimate and secretive.

Caroline inhaled deeply, steadying herself. She set to work, her fingers gliding along the cool wood of the desk, tugging open drawers and rifling through old letters and ledgers. Nothing. Frowning, she moved to the bookshelves, trailing her fingers across their worn leather bindings, searching for any irregularities.

One shelf caught her attention. A single piece of paper, tucked between the books, barely visible in the dim lighting. Caroline plucked it free and unfolded it, her breath catching in her throat as she read:

If you wish to escape the tedium of life and experience a bit of wickedness, walk to the bookshelf and look between the pages of Persuasion . If you want only to win a gift, open the pages of Northanger Abbey .

Caroline froze. The words blurred before her eyes as she recalled the mischievous smiles from her cousins throughout the day. They had planned this treasure hunt seemingly just for her. Caroline’s lips parted, torn between exasperation and intrigue.

Of course, they had schemed to put her in such a position.

To tempt her.

To see if she would take a risk … or stay safely on the path of propriety. Her fingers curled around the note, her mind warring with itself. A conversation she had long tucked away rose in her mind, unbidden. It had been months ago, during the height of the season, at a ball brimming with laughter and champagne.

She had slipped out to the terrace for air, where the night stretched cool and endless before her. Ester had found her there, a knowing look in her eyes.

“ You seem so sad ,” her cousin had murmured, linking their arms together.

Caroline had forced a laugh, brushing aside her concern. “ I am fine .”

Ester had studied her carefully before sighing. “ You are not .”

Caroline hesitated, then confessed quietly, “ It has been over five years since I received your letter inviting mama, Samuel, and me to town. Temperance and Eliza were still in the schoolroom and did not come with us. I was so happy to leave Cranston behind, though I know I would miss my sisters dearly .” She swallowed, staring out at the glittering ballroom. “ I confess, dear Ester, I have found no happiness in town. Only offers to become a soiled dove and whispers that I do not belong .”

Her throat had tightened. “ I am five and twenty, firmly on the shelf, with no adventures to boast of to my sisters whenever I return home. From the stories I tell them, dear Eliza has even bemoaned that London seems just as tedious as Cranston and she cannot imagine why mama wishes for them to visit once they are of age .”

She had turned to Ester then, a wistful longing gripping her chest. “ Sometimes … I wish I could be a bit daring and wicked like you and Lizzy .”

Caroline swallowed hard. Her own words came back to haunt her as she stood before the bookshelf, her fingers hovering over Northanger Abbey.

She should pick it up. She should take the safe route, claim her gift, and put an end to whatever mischief her cousins had plotted.

But something plucked at her heart.

A whisper of longing.

A quiet, treacherous voice inside her that asked, why not ?

Why not be daring, just this once?

Why not take the path of wickedness—just to see where it led?

Her hand lowered. Caroline turned, stepping toward Persuasion instead. She hesitated only a breath before slipping it from the shelf and opening its pages. A second poem lay nestled within, and as she unfolded it, she read:

Where warmth lingers despite the frost,

Where petals bloom though all seems lost.

Find the place where glass meets light,

Where winter’s chill stays soft and bright.

Her pulse kicked up. The conservatory. Caroline closed the book with a quiet thud, pressing her palm against the worn leather cover. She was walking into her cousins’ mischief—of that, she had no doubt.

And yet …

Something inside her thrilled at the possibility of something exciting. With her heart pounding—whether from nerves or excitement, she could not say—Caroline turned on her heel and headed outside for the conservatory. The night air wrapped around her as Caroline hurried through the snow-dusted gardens, her boots crunching softly against the frost-covered pathway. The cold nipped at her cheeks, a stark contrast to the warmth that coiled low in her belly as she clutched the poem in her hand.

She had chosen wickedness.

The thought sent a peculiar thrill through her veins, though she was still uncertain what sort of wickedness her cousins had arranged for her. The conservatory loomed ahead, its glass walls glistening beneath the silver moonlight. Even from outside, she could see the faint glow of lanterns within, casting a soft golden hue over the flora inside. She slipped through the arched doorway, her breath catching at the sudden warmth that enveloped her.

The scent of roses and citrus blossoms lingered in the air, mingling with the crisp fragrance of pine from the towering fir trees that lined one side of the glass walls. Moisture clung to the leaves, giving them a dewy sheen.

No one was here.

Caroline exhaled slowly, glancing around. Where did one even begin searching for a clue in a place so vast? She stepped forward cautiously, her skirts whispering against the stone floor, her ears straining for any sound of movement.

A sudden noise startled her. She spun instinctively, her pulse hammering, and hurried toward it—only to skid to a startled halt as a tall figure emerged from behind a large fir tree.

Daniel .

Her breath hitched as she took in the unexpected sight of him, his dark coat blending almost seamlessly into the shadows, the dim lanterns casting a golden glow on his sharp, aristocratic features.

He looked just as surprised to see her. They stared at each other, caught in a moment of unguarded silence. Then, before she could stop herself, she murmured, “Good heavens … Do they mean for the earl to be my slice of wickedness?”

The words escaped before she could swallow them back, and the moment they did, a nervous laugh bubbled up her throat.

Daniel did not smile.

Instead, he watched her far too closely, his sharp gaze raking over her face, over the telltale flush she could feel creeping up her neck.

“You are blushing,” he said at last, his voice low, unreadable.

Caroline’s eyes widened. “I—” She straightened, lifting her chin. “I doubt you can see me clearly in the low light.”

A soft sound came from him, something between amusement and disbelief.

He stepped forward and stopped before Caroline. The air between them shifted, thickened with something tangible, something unspoken. Without warning, he lifted his hand, his fingers brushing lightly, deliberately along her temple before he tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.

The touch burned.

Her breath caught in her throat, her entire body locked in place at the intimate caress.

“You are standing beneath mistletoe sprigs,” he murmured.

Her heart pounded violently.

Caroline tipped her head back, her gaze catching on the dozens of sprigs tied carefully to the arching vines above them, dangling temptingly in the lamplight.

A shaky laugh escaped her. “Well,” she said, voice breathless, “it seems there is no escape from them once inside the conservatory.”

Daniel’s gaze remained steady on her, unreadable.

“I see,” he murmured.

Something in his tone changed, shifting to something colder, sharper.

“It is astonishing that your cousins would gamble with your reputation.”

The words struck her like ice, cooling the heat that had begun to spread through her chest. Caroline snapped her gaze back to him, startled by the edge in his voice.

“You—” Her voice faltered. “You are aware they pushed us together?”

A noncommittal sound left him, but his expression had closed off, his eyes dark and guarded. A slow, terrible realization curled through her.

He thinks this was planned .

That she had been placed here deliberately to be compromised. That her cousins had set a trap for him. Caroline’s stomach dropped. Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides, her chest tightening with disbelief and—oddly—hurt.

She had chosen Persuasion , had chosen wickedness, but she had not expected to be so wholly misinterpreted.

How dare he assume she—

No .

She took a slow breath, tamping down the prickle of offense rising in her throat. “I assure you,” she said, voice quiet but firm, “this was not my design.”

His jaw flexed, as if weighing whether to believe her.

And Caroline had the distinct impression that, for some reason, Daniel very much wanted to believe she was as calculating as he feared.

Somehow, it mattered.

It mattered too much that he would think so poorly of her.

Caroline lifted her chin, forcing herself not to shrink under his gaze, not to let the indignation rising in her chest turn into something more vulnerable, more revealing.

“Even if King George himself were to barge in and find us standing together,” she said coolly, “he could not force me to marry you.”

A slow, deliberate smile touched Daniel’s lips, though there was no warmth in it, only a flicker of something dangerously amused.

“A woman with little prospect as yourself,” he murmured, “would jump at the chance to marry an earl.”

She gasped. The sheer arrogance, the utter presumption of the man! Her hands clenched at her sides, and before she could think better of it, she snapped, “I would never marry a man I did not love.”

His brow lifted slightly, as if intrigued by her vehemence.

“Worse,” she continued, her voice low, fierce, “I would never marry a man who did not love me. Even if I were compromised.”

Caroline exhaled sharply, feeling the rush of heat in her cheeks, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. “My reputation should tell you that, my lord.”

Daniel’s expression shifted, just slightly. He studied her for a long, drawn-out moment, his gaze searching, unreadable. Then, at last, he murmured, “You refer to the scandal of you slapping the viscount with your parasol in Hyde Park.”

Caroline tilted her chin, unwilling to show even a flicker of shame. “Yes.”

“I heard it was quite the scandal of the season,” he said mildly.

She laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. “It was.”

Caroline hadn’t meant to lay bare the truth to him of all people. But there was something about Daniel that compelled honesty—or perhaps it was simply that he had already formed his judgment, and she refused to let him keep it unchallenged.

“He acted as if he was courting me,” she said, her voice quieter now, more measured. “But on the ride out in his phaeton—which he invited me to under the guise of a simple drive—he offered to put me up in a townhouse.”

She saw something shift in Daniel’s gaze, but she pressed on.

“He said that if I agreed to be his mistress, he would see to it that I was comfortable … and should I find myself with child, he would provide for us.”

Her stomach clenched at the memory. She could still hear the silky confidence in the viscount’s voice, still feel the shock of disbelief and disgust that had curled through her at his proposition.

“The blackguard then tried to quickly steal a kiss,” she said, her voice tight with remembered fury. “So I slapped him with my parasol.”

Daniel’s eyes remained on her, unreadable, but his shoulders tensed slightly.

“Then I walked away,” she finished.

His expression did not change, but something in his stance shifted, as if a tension he had not even realized he held loosened just a fraction.

“He is a bounder,” Daniel said softly, his voice devoid of mockery now.

Caroline swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yes, he was.”

The viscount was not the first to make such an indecent offer, but he had been the first she had trusted enough to believe he intended marriage.

And that had been her mistake.

Daniel exhaled, his gaze lifting momentarily toward the ceiling, where dozens of mistletoe sprigs swayed gently in the warm air.

“If not to compromise me,” he said at last, his voice more thoughtful, “then what did your cousins intend?”

Caroline blushed furiously. She cleared her throat, suddenly far too aware of how very alone they were, of how intimate the space felt beneath the glass ceiling, where the world outside was cold and stark, but inside, it was lush and warm.

She had chosen Persuasion , after all. And now she was here, face to face with the very man who had been haunting her dreams for nights on end. “I believe …” she hesitated, her voice faltering.

Daniel lifted a brow, waiting.

Caroline forced herself to meet his gaze, even as heat crept up her throat, past her collar, into her cheeks.

“I believe they meant for me to be …” She swallowed. “… a little bit wicked.”

His lips parted, his gaze sharpening, as if the words unraveled something unexpected inside of him. And for the first time since entering the conservatory, Caroline truly wondered what she had just invited upon herself.