Chapter 9 #2
Mr. Yorke gave a gracious bow, his eyes still sparkling with that confidence that pulled her toward him like a magnet. “I shall await the next set, then.” The way he regarded her made her pulse flutter.
Oswald smiled politely and led Caroline to the open floor, where several couples were waiting for the music.
As the dance began, Caroline tried to throw off the frustrations of the conversation and enjoy herself.
Before Oswald could bring up the discussion, she inquired after his family, who lived in Devon.
If they spoke of Lord Penrosset and reform—or Mr. Yorke—they would inevitably find themselves at odds, and that would not be conducive to the goal of the gathering.
Besides, Caroline had not been under any illusion that Oswald supported reform. She knew how he felt on the subject because it was how all the men she knew felt. So, while she disagreed heartily, she was too aware that her views were heretical amongst her peers to take it personally.
It was simply that, ever since her call upon Eliza, she had been feeling frustrated with Oswald. He had apologized profusely when she had confronted him over the lack of gate, and they had come to an understanding.
But today was evidence to Caroline that she had not entirely forgiven him for it, petty as it might be.
As the two of them moved along the set, her eyes found Mr. Yorke, who watched her from the side, a drink in hand.
A little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and ruffled her pulse.
She could not resist the responsive smile that rose to her own mouth—neither could she understand it.
When the set was over, she and Oswald made their bows and curtsies. Oswald offered her his arm, and Caroline willed herself not to look for Mr. Yorke.
“I rather think Mr. Pascoe would enjoy standing up with you for a set,” Oswald said.
“He will have to wait until I have claimed mine,” Mr. Yorke said, appearing out of thin air for the second time.
He put out his arm. His eyes always seemed to be on Caroline rather than Oswald. It was a circumstance she wondered at, for if his intent was to elicit a reaction from Oswald, she would have expected him to watch for such a reaction. Otherwise, what was the purpose?
Oswald’s arm was stiff beneath Caroline’s glove, but he gave a nod, and Caroline smiled at him before transferring her hand to Mr. Yorke’s arm.
“I was not certain you would grace us with your presence,” Caroline said, aware of his physical presence in a way she hadn’t been aware of Oswald’s as he led her to her place in the set.
“You insist on doubting me, my lady,” he said as she released her hold on his arm, his eyes sparkling playfully.
“There is no insistence,” Caroline replied. “It comes quite naturally.”
His smile grew, as though he enjoyed her reply rather than taking offense at it.
He took a few steps backward to his place.
Caroline was beginning to doubt she could wound him no matter how cutting she was. It was simultaneously infuriating and impressive.
The music began, and Mr. Yorke bowed deeply.
“I must thank you,” he said, as they met in the middle of the set, their palms pressing together.
“For what?”
“Defending my honor.”
Caroline gave a laugh. “I defended reform.”
He cocked a brow. “Did you?”
“Yes,” she said firmly as they turned and changed direction, circling one another.
“You could have easily done so without including me in the defense. You might have said, ‘Mr. Yorke is too stupid to support a cause as worthy as reform.’ But you did not.”
“I am glad to hear you find reform worthy.”
Mr. Yorke’s mouth drew into a grin. “Does that mean you will support me instead of Oswald?”
“Do you support reform?” She fixed her gaze on him, her tone more serious than before.
He met it, and their eyes held for a moment.
In that instant, Caroline wondered…if he did share her views, would she be tempted to put her support behind him? And if so, what would the repercussions be with Oswald?
But as Mr. Yorke held her gaze, her reason discarded such a ridiculous hypothetical.
Mr. Yorke’s express purpose in coming to Trelowen was to take advantage of what he had assumed an easy victory.
It would make no sense to reform the system of voting he relied upon to achieve his aims—indeed, reform was likely to deprive Trelowen of its MP altogether.
“I am quite moved by your defense of my good name,” he said. “I could see it in your eyes: pistols at dawn on the quay. Or perhaps swords in the drawing room.”
“How very lively is your imagination, Mr. Yorke,” she said with amusement.
“A more susceptible man might have swooned. Even I was very near to doing so when you called me a man who knows his own mind.” He fanned himself while Caroline silently swore never to defend Mr. Yorke again.
“And do you?” she asked. “Know your own mind?”
The way he regarded her for a few moments before responding made her heart stutter and tumble in her chest. “I believe I do.”
She broke her gaze from his, turning her head to the side. “There is no need for these theatrics, Mr. Yorke.”
“What theatrics?”
“You yourself admitted you have no real interest in me beyond how I can serve your goal to be elected, and as I have made it clear that I am not to be swayed by flattery, your insistence on dancing together and flirting with me are wasted effort—particularly as Oswald is not watching at the moment.”
His brows drew together, at odds with the hint of a smile on his lips. “I believe you misunderstood me, my lady.”
“I rather think not,” she said with a smile that felt as brittle as frost upon glass. “I believe your words were that you are not hanging out for—”
“I know what I said,” Mr. Yorke interrupted. “And I shan’t deny that Oswald makes the prospect of teasing him almost impossible to resist, but”—he fixed his eyes on hers—“I never meant that my only interest in you was in service of my goal.”
Caroline forced her breath to come evenly, though it revolted like a colt being saddled for the first time. “Oh?”
“I came here today with one intention and one intention only.”
“To make mischief.” She kept her voice as light as her thumping heart would allow.
The steadiness of his gaze made her pulse gallop and rear as the music drew to a close. “To dance with you.”