Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Caroline wished to Heaven she had not accepted Kitty’s invitation to attend Vauxhall Gardens with such a rake as Lord Bengard. She already dreaded returning home and informing her mother of what had passed that evening, and they had not yet finished their outing.
Kitty walked ahead on Lord Bengard’s arm, James on her other side.
Why James had chosen to appoint himself Kitty’s protector was anyone’s guess, but Caroline was grateful for it.
Before her brother had arrived, she had not enjoyed holding the entirety of their safety on her shoulders.
Mrs. Hough had been useless, and Kitty believed herself incapable of being taken in, which was a danger of a different sort.
“What ails you?” Tristan asked softly.
Drat. She must have sighed. “It is growing late.”
“You cannot fool me into believing you retire early, Miss Scarlet. I know your propensity for wasting candles to finish your books.”
He certainly had a long memory. “That was an old habit—but yes, I do the same now on occasion. Why are you calling me Miss Scarlet?”
“Because I wouldn’t want anyone to overhear your name and know you are here.”
“It was a foolish thing to come,” she whispered, leaning close enough to smell his familiar bergamot. Another group passed by and they were forced to step off the path before continuing. “I saw no other recourse except abandoning Kitty, which I simply would not do.”
“No, I imagined you would not.” Tristan looked away, orange firelight dancing over his face. His frown was evident beneath the simple black half-mask.
The path led them further from the music and light and deeper into shadowed alcoves of shrubbery, punctuated with sounds of giggling.
“This way,” Lord Bengard said boldly, turning down a pathway hardly illuminated, save for weak moonlight. The hedges were tall, lining the way with periodic benches set away from the walkway. Most of the torches remained behind them.
“You are not entirely correct, you know,” Tristan said, turning with her to follow their friends.
“I will not pretend the wager wasn’t on my mind when I proposed to you at Lady Petunia’s ball, but it was not my chief motivation.
Indeed, I do not take marriage so lightly as to offer for the first woman I saw. ”
Caroline kept her gaze ahead, following the line of Kitty’s copper gown as it swished along the ground. “No, of course not. Was there not a healthy degree of guilt guiding you as well?”
“There was, but that was not all.”
The silence stretched. “I have the sense you would like to tell me more.”
“In an effort to defend myself, yes, but also so you might understand the fullness of the situation.”
“Why would that be necessary?”
His hand came over hers, and he looked down at her with frankness, drawing them to a stop. “Is that not plain?”
Caroline’s heart pounded, filling her ears with the sound of her pulse thrumming. She recognized her breath growing shallow, but did her best to disguise it. “No.”
“I bungled the thing, but my offer was partially because of guilt, partially inspired by the wager, but wholly because I was confident you would make me a good wife.”
“We had not seen one another in years,” she reminded him, her voice breathier than she would have liked.
“I did not believe your character would have changed so much in that amount of time. Surely you were still the same Caro I had known in my youth.”
A couple passed them, and Tristan’s hand around her back guided them from the path and closer to an alcove created by a wall of hedges.
She ended up closer to him than she had been a moment before, the smell of his cologne nearly intoxicating, especially when combined with the feeling of his hand pressing against her spine.
Caroline was faintly aware they had stopped walking.
She didn’t know where Kitty had gone off to, but since James had designated himself her protector, Caroline did not worry for her friend.
“Surely you know I care for you,” Tristan said.
“Your feelings for Dennison are not so strong as to make him a more worthy match than me, I hope. You had mentioned he provided security, and I flatter myself in thinking I might provide the same. I have a house in Mayfair and a small income, though your dowry would no doubt add to that security.”
“My dowry,” she repeated, considering his words.
The way he leaned close and kept his hand on the small of her back was clouding her thoughts.
She tipped her chin up to gaze into his eyes, wishing the mask was gone.
What had she been saying? It hardly signified now.
The fire snapping in his eyes was a direct mirror into the feelings burning within her.
Tristan was claiming to want her for her.
She reached up on tiptoe and took the silk ribbon behind his head in her fingers, tugging until the mask was free.
Tristan did not fight her. He maintained his expression, watching her face closely as she let the mask dangle from one hand, dragging the pads of her fingers over his cheekbone.
His cheek was smooth, but his jaw rough, as though he had not shaved since that morning.
He sucked in a heavy breath. “You are tormenting me,” he whispered.
Caroline felt powerful. She brushed her thumb along his lower lip, surprised by its softness. “Then we are finally even.”
Tristan circled her wrist, tugging it down. “That is not nearly as true as you believe it to be.”
“Why?”
“Because I have wanted to kiss you since the moment you rejected me at Lady Petunia’s ball, and you have been nothing but unaffected.”
There was a flutter deep in her stomach. “That is not nearly as true as you believe it to be.”
“Oh?” Tristan’s hand on her back pressed lightly, until she was practically in his embrace. He cupped her jaw, running his finger along the underside of her mask. “Then this is affecting you?”
Caroline said nothing.
He ran his finger down her jaw and around her neck, just within the hood of the domino, and a shiver ran over her skin. “And this is affecting you?” he asked.
She remained silent.
Tristan leaned down, his lips a breath away from hers, his eyes closed. When he spoke, she could feel one of his lips faintly touching hers. “And this is affecting you.”
Her breath hitched. “Yes,” she said quietly.
Tristan made a noise low in his chest. His body pressed closer to hers, but he seemed uncertain. “I cannot kiss you in the dark of Vauxhall Gardens, Caro.”
“Why not?”
Tristan moved his mouth to the side, pressing his lips lightly to the corner of hers. “I respect you too much for that.”
A squeal ripped through the night air, one that sounded faintly distressed.
Tristan turned his head and let out a frustrated groan.
When the sound came again, he ran his hand down Caroline’s arm until he found the mask she held, and he divested her of it. Once it was back in place, he took her hand and pulled softly. “Shall we finish that conversation another time? It sounds as though Miss…uh…Fox might need us.”
Drat Kitty. Caroline’s mouth was dry, so she nodded. Tristan looked back at her. “Are you well?”
“Quite well, yes.”
“You needn’t sound so confident, you know. It does not hurt to allow a man to believe he has undone you, just a little.”
If Caroline was a knitted blanket before, Tristan had unraveled her into a pile of yarn. But the man was confident enough without that bit of information. She did not reply, but hurried along the path beside him, looking for the rest of their party.
“No—I cannot…please!” Kitty called.
Tristan stopped immediately, looking toward the hedges where the voice had come from, then bolted in that direction.
“I told you to leave her be,” a dangerous, low voice said.
Caroline hurried behind Tristan, holding her hem above the gravel pathway and keeping pace as he ran through the row of shrubbery. They turned the corner as a man in a black domino—James, she imagined—cocked his elbow back and landed a facer to the side of Lord Bengard’s dog mask.
Kitty squealed in dismay, then threw herself into James’s arms, sobbing against his chest. He looked up, his wide eyes landing on Caroline. “Where the devil have you been?”
“Lost,” Caroline said. “There were so many people, we found ourselves separated from you…and oh, James, does that really matter now?”
“You know me,” he said, tearing off his mask. He inhaled deeply. “Good. We ought to leave before Bengard comes to.”
Tristan left her side, pulling his hand free. He crouched beside the viscount, pressing his fingers to the man’s neck. Evidently satisfied Lord Bengard still breathed, he stood. “My thoughts as well.”
Caroline was cold, missing his hand in hers, but that didn’t signify. “Kitty, are you hurt?”
Her soft crying abated slightly as she lifted her head. “Not badly, no. Only I am a trifle shocked.”
“Naturally,” Caroline agreed. “Was Lord Bengard—”
“He’s a blackguard,” she said with feeling. “I had thought he meant to kiss me. That is why I let him sneak me away when Mr. Whitby wasn’t paying attention. It is not entirely unacceptable to permit a kiss if one is going to marry a gentleman. But I…I had not imagined he would take such…liberties!”
“I will kill him,” James said darkly.
“Oh, no!” Kitty cried. “It is not so bad as that. You rescued me quite soon enough, Mr. Whitby. I did not come to any real harm. Only, his intentions were not…not honorable.”
James looked livid. “So he meant to set you up as his—”
“That is quite enough, I think,” Caroline said, her voice abnormally high. “Can we leave this place now?”
“Yes.” James drew an arm around Kitty and started toward the pathway again. “Let us take Miss Fielding home.”
“Must you?” she asked. “I am afraid my father will not be pleased. If I could come to your house, I could recover.”
“You may come home with us,” Caroline said in soothing tones. “We will see to it you are cared for and a note is sent round to your father telling him you have decided to sleep at our house tonight. We will return you home in the morning following breakfast.”
“That is just the thing, Caro,” James said approvingly.
Lord Bengard stirred, a moan slipping from his mouth.
“Should we do something about this?” Tristan asked, gesturing to the man lying on the ground.
“I would like to call him out,” James said evenly.
“You cannot,” Caroline reminded him. He had no connection to Kitty that would make it appropriate for him to do so—no familial relationship at all.
“That you would like to is enough,” Kitty said. “But I wish to leave.”
Caroline was feeling a trifle fatigued herself, but decided not to mention it. Instead, she pasted a bright smile on her face, kept her mask in place, and allowed the men to lead the way out of the gardens and back toward the bridge where they would find their carriage.
It was not until she was settled safely inside, the conveyance rocking gently with the turning wheels, that something occurred to her. “Oh, drat.”
“What is it?” Tristan asked, seated across from her. His brown eyes were dark, but light from the torch through the window made them shimmer.
“I left my gloves at the supper box.”
“No, Caro,” Kitty said through a fresh bout of tears, taking this upon herself as well. “I will purchase you a new pair.”
“Nonsense. It is not your fault.”
Kitty wailed. “This entire evening is my fault.”
Caroline drew her arm around her friend’s shoulder and rubbed her back softly. She wouldn’t argue the point further, but she also couldn’t help feeling grateful Kitty understood the gravity of the situation. Perhaps it would mean she would be more cautious in the future.
By the time their carriage reached Berkeley Square, Kitty had fallen asleep.
“Shall we wake her?” James asked softly.
“We must, I suppose.” Caroline squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Kitty, we are home.”
Tristan climbed from the carriage and held a hand out for the women. When Kitty was sufficiently roused, she allowed him to hand her down onto the street but did not release his arm. He led her into the house, James and Caroline behind them.
Once they had closed the door, Caroline took Kitty’s hand from Tristan’s sleeve. “I will take it from here. Thank you.”
His brown eyes were locked on her. “May I come by in the morning? I would like to finish our conversation at a more appropriate time.”
“Of course.” Butterflies flapped about her chest when she recalled the moment in the garden. His lips had been so close to hers, his arms surrounding her. Anticipation of continuing along that path bubbled within her.
Tristan bowed. “Then I bid you a good night.”
James waited at the door for him to leave, then shot Caroline a look. “You and Tristan? Do say more.”
“There is nothing to speak of.”
“Yet?” Kitty asked, coming out of her melancholy briefly.
“I would appreciate your discretion on the matter,” Caroline reminded them as they began to make their way up the stairs.
A door in the landing on the first floor creaked open, and footsteps met them at the top of the staircase. Mama looked down at them, frowning slightly. “Did Mrs. Hough not bring you home? Were you not under her care this evening?”
Caroline searched for a proper explanation.
Mama pasted a smile on her face when she noticed Kitty.
“We have a guest this evening,” Caroline said, moving to step around her mother while she was distracted. “She can remain in my room.”
“Of course, darling.” Mama looked at James, a faint line forming between her eyebrows. “I have good news.”
Caroline stopped.
Mama clasped her hands in front of her. “Your father has come home.”
A slow feeling of numbness trailed through Caroline’s body, though she couldn’t credit it. The news was meant to be good, but her mother had delivered it with such a hint of foreboding Caroline couldn’t feel easy about the matter.
“Where is he now?” James asked.
“Asleep. You shall see him in the morning.”
“That is wonderful,” Caroline said.
“Yes.” Mama hesitated, looking at Kitty, before pasting a smile over her lips. “Well, good night.” She walked away, leaving Caroline with a distinctly uneasy feeling.