Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Caroline Whitby sucked in a deep breath as her maid tightened her stays to a nearly unreasonable degree. She let out a whoosh of air and stepped toward the dressing table, carefully lowering herself on the cushioned seat.
She could breathe, but only just. “Has my brother returned yet?”
Lottie glanced at her in the mirror before pulling Caroline’s hair back and running a brush through it. “Not that I’ve heard, miss.”
“He’ll make us late again. The man is insufferable. We’ve not seen him in five years, and still he cannot remain at home for longer than an hour.”
“Surely he understands the significance of the evening.”
Caroline’s eyelids drifted closed. Lottie tugged at her hair, forcing it into what was bound to be a flattering chignon.
This was the night everything would change for Caroline.
She had been courted by Mr. Dennison for the better part of six weeks, and he’d hinted plainly enough that tonight would be the evening he’d ask for her hand in marriage.
With Father off in the West Indies but her brother en route to England, Mr. Dennison had waited for James to return home.
They planned to meet that evening at the ball so he could ask James’s permission to marry Caroline.
When she was finally an engaged woman, she would be able to breathe again. Tonight’s tight stays were a small sacrifice in order to look her very best.
“Have I hurt you, miss?” Lottie asked, pulling back slightly.
Good heavens. Caroline must have made a noise. “Not at all. I was only thinking of tonight.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Anxious is more apt,” Caroline said.
Lottie nodded, continuing to pin her dark hair in place. “Mr. Dennison’s house is in the North, isn’t it?”
“Yorkshire.”
“That’s a fair stretch.”
“He also has a fortune, Lottie. We will never need to wonder where we’ll find the funds to purchase a new gown. It sounds gloriously relaxing.”
“Indeed, miss.” She completed Caroline’s hair and helped her into her gown before lifting the selected pearl necklace and matching earrings. “You’ll cause a few men in Town to be saddened this evening.”
“Whatever for?”
“Hearing you’ve been taken off the marriage mart.”
A warm blush seeped into Caroline’s cheeks. “You are being generous. No other man knows I exist. How else can you explain the four Seasons it took to obtain a declaration?”
“I seem to recall a few men who would have gladly pronounced their love for you. Mr. Knighting, Mr. Hawthorne, Mr. Johns—”
“All of whom didn’t have a ha’penny to their names,” Caroline argued.
“Pity.” Lottie looked thoughtful, her wayward golden hair peeking out from beneath her white cap. “Mr. Johnson was especially handsome.”
Caroline waited for Lottie to finish securing her shoes before stepping toward the mirror to ensure everything was in order. “Mr. Johnson’s fidelity was questionable, too.”
Lottie made a slight sound of disgust. “I am ever grateful you’ve found Mr. Dennison.”
Staid. Reliable. Loyal. Rich.
The man was perfect.
“As am I,” she said quietly, brushing a hand over her embroidered rose-colored sleeve. “He is about to change everything.”
The ball was an over-warm crush. Cloying perfume wafted in clouds around the groups of matrons.
So many dancers took up space in the ballroom, all conversations were shoved to the outer walls, with hardly any room to stand.
Mama had been drawn into conversation with Lady Tilbury, but the woman was beyond reasonably nosy.
Caroline would prefer not to be caught on that particular fishing line, or she would remain stuck on the woman’s hook the rest of the evening.
Which would be a shame, because she was there for a particular reason, and yet she’d only seen snippets of her brother, and nothing of Mr. Denn—oh!
There he was, looking about as though in search of her.
He was dashing in his blue superfine and clean white cravat.
Mr. Dennison was tall and thin, moving at a pace only a man with intent would in a room this full.
Now, where was James? He had disappeared the moment they walked through the door. She hoped that meant he was still here. The men needed to speak privately before Mr. Dennison could offer for her.
A blush warmed Caroline’s neck at the very idea of hearing the words tonight she had longed for. To become an engaged woman, no longer aging toward spinsterhood and a life as her mother’s companion, forced into dowdy caps and boring conversations on the perimeters of the party, forever a burden.
Never mind the economic relief it would provide. Perhaps Caroline wouldn’t need to remake gowns for her balls any longer.
“Have you an opinion on the matter, Miss Whitby?” Lady Tilbury asked, forcing her into the very situation she was eager to be rid of.
Caroline smiled. “Forgive me, my lady. I wasn’t attending.”
Lady Tilbury chuckled, her round cheeks widening beneath creased eyes. “How can anyone expect a pretty young woman such as yourself to keep her wits about her when there are so many handsome gentlemen about?”
Oh yes, of course. Because the only thing young women ever thought about was men.
Well, she had been thinking of marriage all day, but not men.
Caroline wanted security. Nay, she needed security: she wanted freedom and independence and pin money and children.
Mr. Dennison was merely the vehicle to convey her to those things.
He was not fooled, of course. He knew as well as she that theirs was no love match. A matter of necessity to marry on her part and a need for heirs on his. It was plain to both of them she was receiving the better end of the deal. All the more reason to complete their business as soon as possible.
Or shortly after she could extricate herself from this conversation.
Teeth clenching, Caroline forced a reply. “What was it you wanted to know?”
Lady Tilbury waved a fan over her reddened cheeks, making the feather in her turban dance about. “Your mother and I were conjecturing on the motivation behind your brother’s return. I think he is ready to find a wife.”
James had grown tired of living abroad. That was no secret.
He hadn’t tried to hide his thoughts when he was home, at least. But if Mama was acting as though she didn’t know why he’d come home—why she’d asked him to come home—Caroline had better not say anything.
“Does anyone know the inner workings of a gentleman’s mind?
I certainly cannot pretend to know my brother’s. ”
Mama set a hand on her forearm. “There is Mr. Dennison, Caro. Shall we make our way toward him? I am certain he will wish to ask you for a dance.”
Lady Tilbury tittered. “What a handsome couple you make, Miss Whitby. I hope to be hearing an announcement soon on that score.”
Mama gave her a look which could only be deciphered as equally hopeful before drawing Caroline away from the matron. When they had passed another group and were out of earshot, Mama leaned close and lowered her voice. “She’ll take the credit for it once the announcement is made tonight.”
“She likely would have done so regardless of our conversation. She believes herself responsible for introducing Mr. Dennison to me at the Neeson’s rout.”
“When I am that lonely, do not allow me to find companionship by meddling, Caro. I am relying on you to keep me properly occupied.”
“You will have no shortage of companionship once I provide you with grandchildren, I think.”
Mama’s face brightened. “Too true, darling. Oh, look! James is speaking to Mr. Dennison now. But who is the other man with them?”
Someone who was previously known to the men separately, of course, since James had been in the West Indies for the last five years and didn’t know Mr. Dennison.
Caroline hunted her brother and future husband in the crush.
When her gaze alighted on them speaking jovially, her heart jumped in anticipation, only to dive like a poorly shot arrow shortly after.
Gracious heavens, what was Tristan Shepherd doing here?
It had been years since she’d laid eyes on the man, and the blasted sight of him still sent her heart into a flutter.
He was taller than she recalled, his broad shoulders filling his dark gray coat with the perfection only a fine tailor could make possible.
His dark hair was styled away from his face, his brown eyes deep and thoughtful, even from here.
Which was a hoax. The man didn’t have deep thoughts. His tongue could only produce whimsical jests. There was no bigger flirt in Surrey, and Caroline would do well to remember that.
“Is it Mr. Shepherd?” Mama said, heedless of the winding road Caroline’s thoughts had traveled.
“Looks to be,” she said lightly, proud of the offhand way she had delivered her remark. Mama had known her to hold a tendre for the man when they were younger, but surely she would believe it to be in the past.
It was in the past.
Caroline was minutes away from becoming engaged to someone else. Old feelings had no place in this ballroom. She snuffed them at once.
“Your brother must have called on him,” Mama muttered. “Foolish boy.”
Perhaps she remembered more than Caroline had given her credit for. “I see no harm in it,” Caroline said. “We’ve not met with him in years. Surely the reunion was sweet.”
Mama gave her a disbelieving look, but since they had nearly come upon their quarry, the conversation was blessedly at an end.
“Mother,” James said through a wide grin, pushing his golden hair from his brow. “Do you remember Tristan Shepherd?”
“Of course I do. Your mother is one of my dear friends, Mr. Shepherd. We regularly share tea when I am home.”
Tristan’s smile flashed, causing him to look even more handsome. Unfair, really. How was Caroline meant to focus when the past was being forced upon her?
“My mother has mentioned more than once the benefit of having such lovely neighbors. Will you be returning to Dorking after the Season?” Tristan asked.