Chapter 26
“Is that what you’re wearing today?”
Caroline glanced down at her burgundy dress. “Yes. Why?”
Gervaise was stood over by the chest of drawers, running a clothes brush over his jacket. She wondered if he did not usually have a valet to perform that service. Perhaps not since his uncle had disowned him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in that gown before.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have. Do you like it?” She turned to give him the full effect, turning to one side and then the other.
He considered her a moment before answering. “Yes, I do. You look rather like a governess. One who could not be trusted with gentlemen callers.”
An untrustworthy governess. Oh, how badly she wanted to ask him to explain himself but seeing the gleam in his eye, Caroline knew she could not pursue it.
Instead, she tucked the compliment away for future consideration.
“I’ve always rather liked the sleeves myself,” she observed airily. “Don’t you agree?”
“The detailing there adds a certain something,” he conceded. “Though you are in dire need of a new wardrobe.”
She glanced about the room. “Yes, but there’s not really anywhere to store many more clothes in any case.”
“There is the room next door,” he reminded her.
“Aren’t you using that as your dressing room?”
“Yes, but I am willing to share,” he answered mildly. “With you.”
He really was proving to be very amenable, she reflected, fastening the buttons at her cuffs. Especially when she had been so disobliging as to refuse his offer of marriage the night before. She still felt rather bad about that, but he would thank her for it in the long run.
At least he had not taken mortal offence as she had feared initially that he might. He also had not rushed off and become engaged to anyone else, she reflected thankfully. Really, he had behaved handsomely toward her in every respect, she thought with a rush of gratitude.
Well, except for that rather shocking “act of service” he had performed on her last night, she recalled with a guilty start. But she would not think of that now. Such things did not bear examination in the cold light of day.
Whenever it crossed her mind this morning, her face grew rather hot, and she turned flustered and fumbling. And that would never do, she resolved firmly. Why, she would be turning twenty-seven shortly and doubtless her new role in life called for such debaucheries!
A wife might object, indeed, it was likely incumbent on her to protest such rude treatment, but a mistress was a different matter altogether.
Besides, she had not disliked it precisely, Caroline admitted to herself privately.
It had, well, been shockingly pleasurable if she was being absolutely truthful.
She wondered, feeling rather dazed, if she would become accustomed to such things as Lord Atherton’s mistress.
It was hard to imagine but perhaps with time she would grow quite blasé about that wicked mouth…
Catching her staring at him, he quirked a quizzical eyebrow and Caroline returned to earth with a jolt.
Clearing her throat, she made for the tiny mirror and started dragging her hair back into a bun before she remembered her newer, looser style and had to adjust it accordingly. Once she had in a nice poufy chignon arrangement, she started driving in her hairpins.
She would wait until she was alone, perhaps curled up in a comfortable chair, to fully contemplate Gervaise’s baseness. Yes, she would wait until then to make up her mind how she felt about it all.
“You look very thoughtful,” Gervaise murmured, interrupting her thoughts.
“Oh, do I?” she answered, striving to sound offhand.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked slyly. “Last night?” He appeared suddenly over her shoulder in the mirror. Quite a feat, considering how small it was.
Caroline almost dropped her hairbrush and had to make a quick grab for it. “Um…”
“Because, if you’ve changed your mind, you could let me know at any time,” he offered, his hands coming up to rest lightly at her waist. “Don’t feel like you have to wait for me to raise the subject again.”
“Changed my mind?” she echoed blankly as his thumb brushed against her waist.
“About us marrying,” he clarified, his lips close to her ear.
“Oh, that!” she said and watched in the mirror as a brief look of annoyance crossed his face.
“Yes, that,” he echoed. “Sorry if I’m laboring the point.” There was a faint edge to his voice that made Caroline’s stomach drop.
“Oh, you’re not, Gervaise,” she said quickly, turning so she faced him. “Indeed, I never meant to seem ungrateful.” She gazed up at him, her hands creeping up to grasp his forearms. “Don’t be cross with me, please. Indeed, I mean it for the best, truly I do.”
For a moment he gazed down at her. “You make it difficult for me to be cross,” he answered with a wry twist of his lips, and Caroline beamed up at him in relief.
“I’m glad.”
“Hmmm. I’m not.”
It crossed her mind that he might like to be placated with a kiss.
Why was it so much harder to be daring by daylight?
she wondered. Ridiculous to turn squeamish now.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she surged determinedly upward to press her lips against his own.
Perhaps not surprisingly, her aim was off, and the kiss landed clumsily.
She heard his swift inhalation, before he turned his head and remedied the situation, his lips chasing her own.
Caroline slid her hands up his arms, until she gripped his shoulders rather like she had on that terrace when they had danced the Viennese waltz.
She felt almost as dizzy. Was it possible to become drunk off kisses, she wondered, swaying in his arms. He tightened his grip of her, holding her close, and Caroline wrapped her arms about his neck.
He lifted his mouth away from hers far too soon. “Caroline…” he murmured reproachfully.
“Mmm, yes?”
“You should not kiss me in that exciting fashion once we are fully dressed. It is not fair.”
“Really?” Instead of pointing out that her own kiss had been nothing at all, and he was the one who had deepened it, Caroline gazed up at him foolishly. Oh dear, he was terribly handsome. Who was she trying to fool? If he wanted to put his face between her thighs again, she was going to let him.
She might even beg him to, if she was not careful.
“Stop staring at my mouth like that,” he added sternly.
She felt herself color guiltily. “Sorry.” But when she tried to remove her hands from neck, he made a disapproving rumbling noise in his throat. So, cuddling must be permitted, she decided, cheering up. “This is nice,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Hmmm.” He did not sound entirely sure, but his arms were locked about her, so she didn’t worry too much.
“What are you up to this morning?” she asked brightly, then wondered if she would be rebuffed.
He shrugged. “There’s some meeting I have to attend later with Ralph’s solicitor. The three of us need to sign papers, Ewell included, before we start trading.”
“I met Mr. Ewell yesterday.”
“Did you indeed?”
“Yes. He’s not at all what I imagined a champion boxer to look like.”
“Isn’t he?”
“Reg could make two of him.”
“In the ring, Barty Ewell would make catsmeat of Reg,” he answered dryly.
“Would he really?”
“So, don’t go falling for his dubious brand of charm.” She pulled back to look at him in surprise but before she could offer any assurances on that score, he released her. “Come to breakfast with me,” he said abruptly. “If you have not made any other plans that is.”
“Other plans?” she echoed, quite mystified. “Whoever would I have made other plans with?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Your artist perhaps,” he answered.
“Oh no. I do not see Mr. Bailey until this afternoon,” she answered quickly. “I would love to come to breakfast with you, Gervaise. Thank you.”
“Good,” he answered briefly. “Get your cloak.”
Reg promised to feed Remus and they caught a cab outside The Citadel which Gervaise directed to The Temple.
Caroline was surprised. She had a vague idea in her head that the area was largely devoted to businessmen rather than dining establishments.
She also belatedly noticed that Gervaise wore his top hat and carried a cane this morning.
“You look very formal,” she remarked as the cab lurched forward. “Will your business take long?”
“Not too long, I hope,” he answered, flicking some lint from his coat sleeve.
Caroline’s eyes widened. “I hope I will not be in the way,” she said. “I suppose you could always put me in a cab and send me back home after we have eaten.”
His eyebrows rose, though she did not know if it was at the idea of sending her back or her use of the word home to refer to the gin palace. “I have no immediate plans to relinquish you from my clutches this morning,” he said arrogantly. “My business with the solicitor should not take overlong.”
“Oh.” Caroline felt a pleasurable excitement at the idea of a jaunt about London town. Drawing her cloak close about her, she gazed out at the buildings as they bowled along the busy streets. Before long the bakers and butchers and candlestick makers began to give way to law firm establishments.
“There seem to be a lot of solicitors’ offices hereabouts,” she remarked as they disembarked from the cab.
“Yes, they’re predominantly found here, as it’s the legal district,” he replied, a firm hold on her arm as he steered her along the pavement.
“What say you to this place,” he said, pointing his walking cane at a coffee house with a natty frontage of black and gold.
Instead of looking, Caroline found her attention caught by a green circular sign across the street proclaiming Forsters, Carlton, and Roxby. Why did the lettering look so oddly familiar? It seemed to jostle some recent memory that hovered on the edge of her conscious mind.
“Caroline? What is it?”
“Oh nothing! Just that sign,” she said slowly. “I feel as though I have seen it before.”