Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Caroline sat in the parlor of her family’s house in Berkeley Square, nestled against a cushion propped in the window seat. The view looked over the small park situated in the center of their neighborhood, and she watched people occasionally pass by, envious of their ability to move about freely.
Had Caroline married Mr. Dennison, she would have been granted those same rights.
Had she been fool enough to entertain Tristan’s proposal, the same could be said.
But he was absurd. She had not seen the man in years, and some of the first words from his mouth were an offer of marriage?
His wits had deserted him. Caroline couldn’t marry a man who flirted with any gown that crossed his path.
The door opened as Mama bustled into the room.
Her dark blonde hair was simply drawn back and she wore an older gown of green that made her skin look healthy.
“I’m glad to find you, Caro. I thought it might be good for our constitutions to walk through the park.
Or perhaps we could see about tickets to the British museum.
They are difficult to come by, but Lady Petunia has a connection.
I’m certain she would use it for our benefit. ”
“If you are making an attempt to find me another marriage prospect, I struggle to believe you will find much success in either location. Men of wealth do not while away their days in museums or parks. They sleep until late and engage in sporting pursuits until their mamas call upon them to attend another ball.”
Mama crossed the remainder of the room. “You sound dreadfully cynical. Who gave you leave to think like this?”
“My own observations and what I’ve learned through conversing with men over the last four Seasons. Who else but the wealthy would be qualified to speak on how they spend their time?”
Mama frowned. “All is not lost. I own I am glad you shall not be leaving me for Yorkshire.”
Caroline could not find pleasure in her disappointment quite yet. She looked at the road again, surprised to find a familiar form striding down the paving stones. What was Tristan doing in her neighborhood?
“Is James at home?” she asked absently.
“No, he’s gone out.” Mama tempered her smile. “To Jackson’s saloon, I believe.”
“Did he not return to England with express intent to find a wife?”
“He has, which is why I assume we shall be attending a ball this evening. Mrs. Freese sent round an invitation, but Almack’s is also this—”
A quiet knock at the door stopped her words. Lottie stood in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed and cheeks pale.
Caroline stood. “What is it?”
“My sister.” Lottie sniffed. “I’ve just had word. She was in an accident at the market.”
“Oh, Lottie,” Caroline said, crossing the room toward her maid.
Pomfrey, the butler, cleared his throat in the doorway, his mouth bent into its usual bored frown. His long cheeks sagged, making him look displeased at all times.
“What is it, Pomfrey?” Mama asked.
He stepped forward, holding a calling card. “A visitor for Miss Whitby, ma’am.”
Mama took the card, read it, and her dark gold eyebrows lifted.
Caroline didn’t need to read it to know who was waiting in the entryway downstairs. She looked meaningfully toward Lottie. “I’d rather not see him right now.”
“You know it is Mr. Shepherd, then?” Mama’s brow lifted further. “Does this mean your feelings toward the man have not altered in all these years?”
“I saw him on the street, that is all. Snuff your hopes, Mama. He means to pay recompense for his terrible mistake last night. This visit has nothing to do with romance.”
Mama’s face fell into a frown. “Be that as it may, his mother is my friend, and I am uncomfortable turning him away.”
“Oh, please—”
“We will abide a short visit. I cannot permit you to be rude.”
Caroline had no worthy argument, so she acquiesced.
Mama turned to Pomfrey. “You may bring him through.”
The butler shot a look at Lottie, but when no one addressed the matter of the maid in the room, he left.
Caroline was glad for it if it meant drawing her away from their guest. She took Lottie’s hand and pulled her toward the far wall, then seated her on the window ledge and sat beside her. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, miss,” Lottie said, a silent tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand.
“Has your sister been seen by a doctor?”
“Yes. She’s broken her arm and won’t be able to work. She’ll have nowhere to go.”
“That is dire, indeed.” Caroline looked at her mother, whose eyebrows were pulled tightly together.
Their household was in no position to take on another servant.
They had spent the last year further economizing in every way they could.
But a woman who could not even work had nowhere to go, not even the workhouse.
Mother gave the slightest dip of her head in approval, seeming to understand Caroline’s thoughts.
Heavy boot steps tread up the stairs, and despite her cool feelings toward Tristan, Caroline found her heart rate steadily increasing as he drew closer.
Drat the man and his effect on her. She felt Tristan walk through the door, but her attention was still fixed on Lottie.
“Does she have any family? A husband or children?”
Lottie shook her head.
Tristan removed his hat as he entered the room, and her heart jumped uncomfortably.
The man was excessively handsome, his dark hair neat despite recently wearing a hat, his brown eyes deep and full of soul.
His blue coat and tan breeches revealed an athletic form, and his skin was freshly shaved, making his jawline smooth and pronounced.
Once she had dreamed of running her fingers over that angled jaw, but now she only wanted to see it frown.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Whitby. Miss Whitby.” Tristan bowed elegantly. He looked at Lottie, undoubtedly noting her clothing marking her as a servant, and hesitated. “I had hoped to speak to Miss Whitby for a moment if that is amenable to you.”
“Of course, Mr. Shepherd. Come in,” Mama said, standing. “Caroline was speaking to her maid briefly. There has been a concern of some urgency in her family.”
His gaze lingered on them, standing behind the sofa.
“Lottie,” Caroline said, keeping her attention on the girl, “bring your sister here. I cannot promise employment, but she can share your room while her arm heals. There is food enough to spare for one more.”
Lottie drew in a quiet gasp, her eyes shimmering with fresh tears. “You don’t mean it.”
“You may go now to fetch her. Tell Cook to expect her before you leave, and she can begin a soothing broth.”
“Thank you,” Lottie said.
Caroline took her hand and squeezed it. She stood as Lottie bobbed a curtsy to Mama and Tristan before hurrying out. It was time to face him, but she’d rather follow her maid through the door. Instead, she faced her guest.
“Would you care for tea?” Mama asked him once the door had closed behind Lottie.
Caroline looked sharply at her mother. Were they not meant to have a short visit? Tea did not equal a short visit.
Tristan smiled. “That would be wonderful, I thank you.”
“Please be seated. I will return shortly.” Mama looked at Caroline, the smallest hint of a challenge on her brow. “You will see to it our guest is comfortable, I hope.”
“Of course, Mama. Though I do not think it proper we are left alone.”
Mama smiled affectionately, no stranger to the game. “You will not be alone. How silly to imagine I would in any way shirk my duty as a chaperone. I shall leave the door open, and I will only be in the corridor for a moment.”
Once they were very much alone, Tristan’s smile grew. “You are afraid I will put your reputation in danger?”
“Of course not.” Caroline sat on the high-backed chair in the center of the room, arranging her skirt over her knees. “I would merely prefer not to be forced to make conversation.”
“No need.” Tristan sat on the sofa opposite, laying his hat on the cushion beside him. “I hope your maid is well.”
“Her sister has been injured, but we’ve sorted the matter.”
He nodded, looking at her through eerily perceptive eyes. “I’m here to propose a—”
“I will not marry you.”
His smile wavered. “Right. You mentioned so last night. I’d considered bringing you a toad this morning, but I did not know where to find one in Town. In any case, I had not intended to renew a proposal so abhorrent to you.”
Caroline’s cheeks warmed. “Then why have you come?”
“To fix what I have broken. I cannot go to Dennison, but James could. Have you considered sending him to plead your case? A woman does not need to appreciate horses to make a good wife, and I think Dennison would agree if the right man was able to reason with him.”
Her stomach flipped slightly. “It is too late. James is boxing at present, and I am not certain he would be interested in such an errand were he here.”
“Perhaps not, but that is where I could be of assistance. If it is agreeable to you, I could persuade James to take up your cause.”
Caroline stared at Tristan. “What benefit do you reap from this?”
“Only a reprieve of my guilt.”
“So, nothing?” she challenged.
He fixed his attention on her. “Peace is vastly undervalued.”
The fight deflated from her. “There is no need for you to concern yourself with my affairs.”
“I am the reason you are in distress, and I would love to hear your beautiful laugh again. I merely wish to help.”
“Then find me a decent husband,” she muttered, fighting a blush just as Mama returned. Tristan gave her a searching look, remaining silent as Mama took a seat on a chair near Caroline.
It was clear the time for private conversation had drawn to a close, and despite her frustrations, Caroline wanted to speak to Tristan further about Mr. Dennison. If the man could help, she was a fool not to accept. “Do you plan to attend any functions this evening, Mr. Shepherd?”
“I had considered Almack’s.”