Chapter 10 #2
The third woman in the trio had hair darker than Caro’s, and her participation in the conversation was more subdued. The cut of her dark violet gown was simpler than those of the other two, but no less elegant. The frock hung on her easily, as though she could go for a brisk walk if she chose.
Her muted colors indicated that she, like Caro, was a widow. Their fair-haired friend, on the other hand, dressed in bright pink, was obviously an unmarried miss.
The pink-clad lady rapped Caro on the arm with her fan and indicated Eamon and his companions, who were all staring intently at the three women. Caro started, her eyes widening.
Did Caro’s surprise turn into delight, she happy to see Eamon? Not at all. She mastered herself after her slight jump and bathed Eamon in a disapproving frown.
“Is that your duchess?” McCormick asked with great interest.
“Not my duchess,” Eamon corrected him. “At least, not yet,” he finished under his breath.
“They seem to be debating about whether to speak to us,” McCormick said.
Eamon had no intention of waiting until the coy choreography of a society ball let him meet with Caro as if by chance. That might take an hour or more, and he didn’t have the patience.
“Let us settle the question, shall we?” Eamon said. “Are you with me?”
“Not the thing to approach ladies uninvited,” McCormick answered, though he did not sound alarmed at the prospect. “Even I, a rough-hewn islander, know that.”
“We haven’t been introduced,” was Wolfe’s tight-lipped contribution.
“I know the duchess, and I can make your introductions,” Eamon said. “Fortune favors the bold, gentlemen.”
“It favors you,” Wolfe muttered.
McCormick nodded. “Aye, every time you say something like that, Stony, disaster follows. But lead on.”
Both men fell into step behind Eamon as he began his journey across the ballroom.
Caro’s countenance did not grow any more welcoming as they approached. Her polite expression became fixed, but her eyes held vast annoyance.
Caro’s friends, on the other hand, turned interested gazes to Eamon and his companions. Sizing them up, Eamon understood. Caro must have told the ladies about him, possibly even including their frenzied kiss. Eamon warmed at the memory, but Caro looked full of regret.
He halted courteously in front of the three ladies, and McCormick and Wolfe moved to flank him. Preparing for battle, even in a ballroom.
“Good evening,” Eamon said with a formal bow. “Please forgive my forwardness, but I wished to greet Her Grace.”
“Mr. Stone.” Caro’s voice evoked a chill she must have learned from the dowager duchess.
Eamon pretended to be undismayed at her coolness. “Allow me to present my friends, Mr. Hayden McCormick, who originally hails from the Shetland Isles, and Lord Dominic Wolfe, who kicks about Berkshire when he is not in London. We were thrown together as lads and now continue the habit.”
McCormick bowed his tall body, while Wolfe favored the three ladies with a stiff nod.
Caro returned their greetings with a brief nod of her own. She could play the haughty duchess when it pleased her, Eamon saw. He only wished she weren’t pleased to do it now.
“Lady Heyford and Princess Josephine of Osagard.” Caro indicated the dark-haired lady and then the princess in turn with a flick of her fan in an elegantly gloved hand.
The two ladies made brief curtsies, and the gentlemen bowed once more. How agreeable they all were.
Eamon cleared his throat, unnerved at its dryness. “And how is His Grace?” he asked Caro. “Did Leo find anything intriguing while burrowing through the books?”
Caro became still more frosty. “My son expected you at every moment, all through the morning and the afternoon. Was most unhappy when you did not appear.”
A look into Caro’s eyes told Eamon she did not mean she had been waiting anxiously for him all day. She spoke the truth that it was Leo who’d been upset, which suddenly explained her unforgiving demeanor.
“Damn it all,” Eamon said with feeling. As Caro’s friends fluttered fans and his companions stared at him, he went on quickly, “Cheswell promised he’d send you word. He packed me off on another mission which took all blasted day. Please send His Grace my abject apologies.”
Caro drew back slightly at the explanation, as though she wanted to soften, but she held steady. “Leo made you his knight.”
“He did. I should have made certain Leo knew of my detainment today and never left it to Cheswell.” Cheswell had obviously not thought sending a message to Caro important. “I do most humbly apologize, Duchess—I mean, Your Grace.”
The other two ladies listened to the exchange with interest, and Eamon felt the same from his friends, even Wolfe.
“Well.” Caro’s wall of ice thawed slightly but not completely. “I suppose you could make it up to him.”
“I will, indeed. Please tell me what I can do.”
Eamon had mouthed such words before, especially in his school days when he sought to lighten punishment from his tutors. Against the pain and anger in Caro’s eyes tonight, Eamon’s offer was the most sincere it had ever been.
Before Caro could answer, the princess spoke up.
“You can request a dance, Mr. Stone,” the golden-haired woman said. “There is a set forming even now.”