Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Mr. Fielding had spared no expense when it came to Kitty’s ball. The flowers were extravagant, the candles abundant, and the food overflowing and sumptuous. The floor had been chalked in an intricate design that was now smudged due to the dancers, and drinks circulated the ballroom without end.
Caroline stood beside her mama, taking in the elegance of the roses and the glittering chandelier.
She searched the crowd of dancers for Kitty and James, anxious for her friend’s scheme to be completed.
It was something she felt could have been accomplished without quite such a large audience, but Kitty felt the pressure of the event would be helpful, so that was that.
Caroline privately believed that Kitty desired the added drama her ball provided, but she kept the thought to herself. Anything she could do to help her brother find happiness would be time well spent.
“They look so elegant together,” Mama said quietly, her neck craning to watch the dancers. She flipped her fan open and fiddled with the tassel. “Do you think he cares for her?”
“James and Kitty?” Caroline asked, clarifying.
“Yes. They look so handsome together, don’t you think?”
Caroline found them on the floor in the middle of their waltz. Kitty’s face was tilted up toward James, her smile soft but warm. It was not simply a friendly expression, nor the look one would cast their flirt. Kitty’s expression was engaged, full of adoration.
James looked no different. Their feelings appeared to be equal in measure. Heavens, but Caroline hoped that was the case.
“Do you think he will offer for her?” Mama asked.
Given their financial situation? Caroline thought not, but hopefully Kitty would bring him around. “That is for anyone to guess.”
“And you,” Mama said, leaning closer. “You have two men dangling after you. Shall you accept—oh! Look who has arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd have come with Tristan.”
Caroline followed her mother’s line of sight toward the family making their way across the room. They were late, but it seemed they had been speaking to Mr. Fielding and now had spotted Caroline and her mother.
Tristan appeared to be trying to steer his parents toward the Whitby women. When they were close enough, Mrs. Shepherd’s wide smile was evident.
“Deborah, I did not realize you had intended to come to Town,” Mama said, putting her hand out to clasp Mrs. Shepherd’s.
“It was not planned.” Mrs. Shepherd looked toward her husband, her eyes twinkling. “But we missed Tristan dearly.”
Tristan gave a dry smile. “Or was it merely to reassure yourself I am making progress toward matrimony?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Mrs. Shepherd turned sharp eyes on Caroline. “My, but you look beautiful tonight, Miss Whitby. You must have hordes of men vying for your dances.”
“You’re too kind.” Caroline shared an amused look with Tristan.
“I am one of them,” he said. “Will you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me, Miss Whitby?”
She bit back a comment about the formality of his using her surname, but his timing could have been better. She had meant to help Kitty achieve her goal soon…but perhaps it would be easier for Caroline to play her role if she had a reason to walk toward Kitty. “I would be honored.”
“Splendid!” Mrs. Shepherd said. “Oh, can you believe our children are dancing?”
Mama nodded. “They have many times over the last month.”
“Many times?” Mrs. Shepherd turned an appraising eye on her son. “That is quite interesting to hear. Perhaps this is the woman who—”
“Darling,” Mr. Shepherd said, putting an arm around his wife. “I think I will fetch a glass of madeira. Would you care for one?”
“I would, thank you.”
“And you, Mrs. Whitby?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mama said.
He squeezed Mrs. Shepherd’s shoulder and disappeared.
Tristan put out an arm for Caroline. “Shall we make our way toward the floor? The waltz has ended.”
She put her hand on his arm and ignored the overbearing smile from his mother, allowing him to lead her away.
“Their visit is unexpected,” Tristan said. “My mother has always been something of a matchmaker. She thinks of little else but weddings and marriages.”
“I am fully aware,” Caroline said. Though in the past she had not been the recipient of such attention, she had seen Mrs. Shepherd extol the greater virtues of her sons on many occasions.
Caroline kept watch on Kitty and James, subtly steering Tristan toward them as they walked.
Kitty was searching the crowds. When she found Caroline, a broad smile lit her face.
She gave a slight nod, confirming that they ought to proceed as planned, which did nothing but send a volley of anxious butterflies through Caroline’s stomach.
This scheme was mad. Everyone would see through it.
When they neared each other, Caroline brought her foot down hard on Kitty’s hem, holding it in place as Kitty continued on.
A tearing sound rent the air, and Kitty gasped, turning to look over her shoulder at the ripped seam along the bottom of her dress.
She tried to trip forward into James’s arms, but he was not in the proper position to catch her, so she righted herself before she could fall to the floor.
“Oh, no! Kitty, forgive my clumsiness!” Caroline said.
“My gown!” Kitty wailed. “You’ve torn my gown!”
Caroline’s eyebrows lifted slightly. That was not how they had rehearsed this.
“Oh, but what will I do?” Kitty cried. “It’s ripped!”
“Can it not be sewn?” James asked, coming around to see the offending hem.
Kitty turned grateful eyes on him. “Yes, I suppose. But oh, what a mess!”
“I will sew it,” Caroline said, less apologetically than before. “James, perhaps you ought to find Mr. Fielding and inform him that Kitty will be in the drawing—
“Parlor!”
“—parlor. We shall be in the parlor for a moment.”
“Yes, fetch my father!” Kitty said, a tad too dramatically.
“Too much,” Caroline hissed.
“I need to be overcome,” Kitty replied.
They hurried toward the exit, Tristan close behind them. Once they reached the parlor, however, he stopped at the door.
“We will only be a minute,” Caroline promised him.
He watched her with suspicion and amusement, which she chose not to think on too deeply.
“I’ve hidden the sewing kit in the drawer of that bureau.” Kitty pointed to the one she meant, a dark piece of furniture set against the wall. “It should have the pink thread inside.”
“You did not need to cry quite so loudly.” Caroline found the sewing kit and brought it to the sofa where Kitty sat, lifting the torn hem and putting it on her lap. She set to repairing the tear quickly.
“I wanted everyone to believe it was an accident.”
“They surely do,” Caroline muttered, then reached for the candlesticks on the short table to drag them closer. No one could have known Kitty had cut some of her hem ahead of time to make it tear easier. Neither would they believe she had planned the event with Caroline’s help.
Kitty huffed. “James was supposed to catch me, but he wasn’t in the right position.”
“We will proceed as planned.” They had no other choice, in Caroline’s opinion. They were too far in already.
“Yes, but I couldn’t swoon.”
A knock at the door startled them, and Caroline poked her finger with the needle. She hissed, then continued to work.
“Only a moment more,” Kitty called.
Caroline made quick work of the repair, then let down the gown, glad it was not terribly obvious where she had sewn. Kitty remained on the sofa, burying her face in her silk glove-covered hands. She peeked one eye out. “Let them in now. I’m ready.”
Caroline drew in a heavy breath. It was more dramatic than she’d imagined—and she had thought it a fairly theatrical plan to begin with.
When she opened the door, she found Mr. Fielding standing there, James and Tristan behind him. A servant stood in the corridor with a tray, holding a small glass of sherry.
“She is in here,” Caroline said gravely.
Mr. Fielding smiled kindly at her, then bowled past. James and Tristan trailed behind him. Caroline moved toward the sofa to come to Kitty’s aid, should she need her.
“Kitty, what is it?” Mr. Fielding asked. “Have you torn your gown?”
The servant followed with the tray, and Mr. Fielding took the glass of sherry, thrusting it toward his daughter as though he believed it would calm her.
“It’s not that,” Kitty cried, taking the sherry. She gulped it quickly and handed it back. “Caroline has fixed the gown. How can I return to the ballroom after such an ordeal?”
Mr. Fielding looked put out by this. “With dignity. Who has not found themselves in a similar scrape at one point or another? There are many gentlemen who would like to dance with you.”
Kitty looked up at him imploringly, her eyes round. “But I don’t want to dance with any of them. I only want to dance with one man.” At this, she looked at James, who blushed deep red behind his tanned cheeks.
Mr. Fielding looked between his daughter and James. His eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s this, now?”
“I love him, Papa. When you hear the heroic thing he has done—but, no! I swore never to speak of it.”
“Kitty,” Mr. Fielding said. “You must tell me now. What heroic thing?”
“Yes, Kitty,” James said tightly, stepping forward. “What are you speaking of?”
“You cannot have forgotten it so quickly, James! But it will put all of us to the blush, I daresay.”
“Out with it,” Mr. Fielding snapped.
She pretended to hesitate—or perhaps it was real, now that she was about to admit to doing something her father would not have liked.
“I accepted an invitation to Vauxhall Gardens and convinced Caroline to accompany me. Upon hearing of our outing, Mr. Whitby and Mr. Shepherd followed us there to protect us, Papa!”
He frowned. “You never should have gone in the first place. It’s not the thing for proper young ladies.”
“I agree. It was a dastardly, horrid place. But when we first arrived everything seemed vibrant and lovely. I could never have known that a…a man in a mask would take hold of me so harshly and try…and try to kiss me.”
Caroline glanced at Tristan, posed in the back of the group with his hands clasped lightly behind his back. He listened with reserve, but she could see the faint amusement lurking in his brown eyes.
He glanced at her, and his lips formed a comfortable smile.
Caroline felt an overwhelming surge of affection for him.
She recalled the evening they had shared in the hedges of Vauxhall, how she had been utterly ruined by him for any other man, how she had decided to marry him—until Father had come home and she had learned where her duty lay.
Now she had dragged Tristan about the house this evening, and he had patiently followed her. She had pushed him away, continuing to accept the attentions of another man, and still he did not give up.
All this to win a wager? She thought not.
What madness had overcome Caroline? She loved him. He clearly cared for her. If she and James put their minds together, they could find a way to save the estate and keep Mama comfortable.
Surely Caroline could marry the man she loved.
“Who was it?” Mr. Fielding said darkly. “I will finish him.”
Caroline’s attention whipped back to the matter at hand.
“He wore a mask,” Kitty said immediately. “And he must have disguised his voice, for I haven’t any notion. It could have been anyone.”
This had been an important part of her scheme, if only to save her father from a duel.
“James saved me,” she continued. “He stopped the man and pulled me to safety. I will never recover from my admiration for him.”
“Why did you not tell me so before?” her father asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kitty sighed. “James is not titled, exactly. His situation—”
“Ah, yes. I know of it.” Mr. Fielding shot James a grim expression. “Your father sank your inheritance, didn’t he?”
James straightened, his blush deepening. “The details are irrelevant.”
“Hm. Well, you can visit me tomorrow. We shall see what we can sort out.”
“Oh, Father, truly?” Kitty said, jumping to her feet.
“He cannot propose until we have settled things between us, darling.” Mr. Fielding turned to James. “You do wish to propose, I assume?”
“I had not thought it possible, but—” Tristan kicked James’s boot, and James cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. I would.”
“Then it’s settled. We will not speak more of this until tomorrow. Go back into the ballroom and enjoy your ball, dearest. Your guests are likely wondering where you are.”
“Yes, Papa.” Kitty leaned up on tiptoe to kiss her father’s cheek. The smile she directed at Caroline afterward was wholly triumphant.
James looked around as if he didn’t understand how they had reached this point, but he seemed happy. Mr. Fielding took Kitty’s arm to lead her back to the ballroom, and James followed them, still looking stunned.
Tristan offered his elbow, but Caroline reached for his wrist instead, tugging him to remain. She waited until they were alone. The servant with the sherry glass had long since left, and their friends’ footsteps had wholly disappeared.
“This will only be a minute,” she said, pulling on him so they were not standing directly in front of the open door. “I need to say something to you that cannot be said in front of an audience.”
“I am intrigued.”
She released his arm. “Despite every effort to staunch my growing feelings for you, I find they continue to flourish. You have not allowed them to wither and die as they ought, but have continued to feed them, causing me to form a greater attachment each time I am in your company.”
Tristan’s jaw jumped as though he was clenching and unclenching a muscle. His brown eyes were rich and deep, flickering from the reflection of the fire in the hearth. “What of Dennison?”
She groaned. “He is a good man, if somewhat self-absorbed. If I cared at all about doing my duty for my family, I would spurn you at once and beg him for a proposal.”
“You mean to imply you do not care for doing your duty?”
Caroline breathed in his familiar bergamot and citrus scent.
“I care. But James will persevere, and my mother will never be left wanting—not between James and I. My father has made mistakes, but it is not my responsibility to refill the coffers he emptied. I love my family, but I will not choose a husband based on money. It is too changeable a feature. I would prefer to choose a husband based on how I feel for him.”
“How do you feel for me, Caro?”
Her heart pounded hard in her chest, her breath growing shallow. When she spoke, her voice came out a whisper. “I love you, Tristan.”