Chapter 3
THE ROOM WAS already crowded when the Brooks family arrived, the music bright and cheery, and conversation filled the space. Daisy and Lydia immediately split from the family group to find their friends and begin procuring dance partners.
Or making themselves available to become dance partners, as it were.
“Am I required for any reason at all?” Caro heard her father ask their mother in an already bored tone.
She bit back a laugh when her mother whacked her father on the arm with a fan. “Yes! We have not yet seen the Sheffords, and we must greet them appropriately!”
Caro’s father rolled his eyes without shame. “Then why were they not there to greet us at the entrance? Honestly, it is most inefficient.”
Caro tuned him out; his complaints were nothing out of the usual for him when it came to social occasions. Instead, she turned her focus to Susannah, who was practically vibrating beside her, despite her somber expression.
She looped her arm through Susannah’s and gently pulled her away from their parents. “You absolutely love this,” Caro said softly.
Susannah gave her a curious look. “Love what?”
Caro gestured broadly to the room. “This. A ball. The music, the dancing . . . I can feel it; you are so excited.”
Her sister blushed and lowered her eyes. “I do. It does not seem to matter if I dance much or not. I just enjoy the experience. The atmosphere. Not necessarily the company, but perhaps someday.” She smiled at Caro a little, shrugging a shoulder.
Caro chuckled and rubbed her sister’s arm as they walked. “That’s all right. We enjoy what we enjoy. And I intend to do my best to see that the evening lives up to all of your grandest wishes, since your expectations seem to be rather low.”
Susannah giggled softly. “It is only past experiences that give me those expectations.”
“I know.” Caro winked and began looking about the room. “So let us walk, hmm? See who we see.”
“Caro . . .” Susannah said slowly, suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
Caro fought a smile, shrugging pointedly. “Nothing. Walking with you.”
“You’re looking around.”
“I am taking in the general ambience,” Caro protested.
Susannah narrowed her eyes at her. “You don’t do that. You barely tolerate any of these. You attend because it is expected, and when . . . he . . . was here, you spent the entire time dancing with him or talking with him. It was an excuse to be with your best friend in fancier clothing.”
Now Caro barked out a delighted laugh. “Susannah Faith, that is the driest your tone has ever been in your entire life. If I were not walking beside you and watching you say those words, I would think it was Lydia speaking.”
“Hmm,” Susannah hummed almost musically in thought. “I think Lydia would have used more sarcasm and hyperbole.”
“Absolutely true.” Caro nodded in agreement, still letting her eyes sweep across the guests.
“Surely you aren’t looking for him,” Susannah said in an almost whisper. “It’s been three years, Caro, and he’s never—”
Caro shook her head before her sister finished. “No,” she managed around a tightening throat, the lump of disappointment rising and the desperation of years of lying coursing through her veins.
Of course she was looking for him. She was always looking for him, even when she did not mean to. Even when she was looking for something else.
Even when she knew better.
Yes, she was looking for his brother at the moment, but she hoped, secretly, that somehow Silas would be with his brother this time.
It had never happened before, though the occasions of seeing Sebastian Darby had been nearly as minimal as seeing Silas.
But Samuel, the third brother, was often around, and though he never said anything about Silas, he was always good company.
And it was a weak sort of balm for her wounded heart.
“Please, Caro,” Susannah pleaded suddenly, gripping her hand almost painfully tight. “Please tell me you are not looking for Lord Ellison for me.”
Caro scoffed too loudly for polite company, but shook her head. “No, indeed. I think he has quite enough to be getting on with this evening, especially with his parents hosting.”
Susannah’s shoulders sagged with relief, her steps faltering just a little.
“You were that worried about him?” Caro asked with real concern. “Susannah . . .”
She cleared her throat. “He is very nice and polite, but I always get the sense that he is . . . annoyed by me? Not in a cruel way, but in a disappointed sort of way.”
Caro scowled at that. “He is in no position to think anything of the sort. And if I have time this evening, I will tell him exactly what I think.”
“Caro!” Susannah shrieked in a shocked gasp. “You cannot!”
“My reputation won’t suffer overly much, considering where it stands at the moment,” Caro assured her sister. “I am not quite a harridan, but I am approaching spinsterhood, so why should I not feed into the preconceived notion?”
Her sister stiffened on a harsh breath. “Caro . . .”
“Breathe,” Caro advised. “I do not intend to make a spectacle of myself this night or any other. Believe it or not, I have a plan for you this evening, and it is a very soft, very gentle plan that I have great hopes for. And the best part is that if it does not work out, no one will be hurt in the slightest.”
Susannah was silent for a moment before whispering, “Do you promise?”
Caro nodded once. “I do.”
Her sister nearly sagged into her, swaying so out of time with the music that it ought to have been laughable. But instead, it only encouraged Caro in her aims for the night.
The whispers began once the music lulled between dances, and Caro felt her skin prickle as though the words were spoken directly into her ear. A chill seemed to ricochet off several parts of her body, lighting them up with the same sense of shame and embarrassment she was used to.
Her cheeks began to heat, but she lifted her chin anyway and pretended otherwise.
She always pretended otherwise.
The next dance began, and the music and sounds of the shoes against the floor muffled the whispers enough to settle Caro’s body and mind.
Gossip came with social occasions, no matter what they were, and until something changed in her life, or in Silas’s, she would always be talked about in local circles if she attended.
Should the dreaded day come that Silas married someone else, the gossip about Caro would change, but always remain.
Pity and gossip.
“Will you dance tonight, Caro?” Susannah asked her, keeping her voice low and gentle.
Caro shrugged. “If I am asked, and if I can tolerate the man who asks. But mostly, I come to these things so it will look good for you and the girls, as well as reflect better on Mama and Papa. The dancing itself is inconsequential, as is the opportunity for conversation. If I want to talk with someone, I will find a way to do that without the fuss and frills and noise.”
Susannah’s nose wrinkled up. “There is a great deal of noise involved with a ball, isn’t there?”
“Which is why I prefer dinner parties,” Caro explained, nodding once. “Smaller guest lists, less noise, more sincere enjoyment.”
“I agree,” Susannah said immediately. “Though I do love the demonstration of dancing in greater numbers. There is something so satisfying about the neat lines and fluid movements of a group of people. It is not always perfect, but when it is? I find it to be akin to art.”
Caro did not argue against it, nor did she agree with it. Yes, there was something inherently satisfying about a well-done dance by a group, but she could honestly say that she had not paid enough attention to any dancing to dwell on it.
Perhaps that was a benefit of not being the wallflower that Susannah was. She was too otherwise occupied during a ball to think on such things.
“You know,” Susannah murmured, “if you would tell me who or what you are looking for, Caro, I might be able to help you find them. Or it, as it were. I study my surroundings often enough, as I have nothing better to do, and everyone finds themselves in roughly the same position at a ball, whether it is here or at the assembly rooms.”
Caro kept looking about the room in spite of her sister’s words, and then smiled when she spotted the object of her pursuit.
“Uh oh,” Susannah breathed, stuttering a step beside her. “I do not trust that sort of smile upon your face. Lydia learned that from you, even if she acts in a more blatant manner.”
“So you’re saying I behave myself better, but that’s about it.” Caro hummed in delight to herself. “I can live with that.”
“That is precisely what scares me.”
Caro slid a glance to her sister, checking each detail of her appearance—not to find a flaw, but to be the sort of supportive sister who would ensure that she was looking her very best when presented to a handsome and eligible man who might be perfect for her.
No one would live down the embarrassment of having something blatant stuck in their teeth under those circumstances, and it was the mark of true humanity to remove those embarrassments before the occasion arrived.
All appeared to be in order, and Caro felt a surge of energy begin to race through her body, pulsing most violently from the center of her chest. Her mouth grew dry, her throat grew tight, and her stomach bounced with every step she took.
How would Bas react when he saw them? Would he recognize Caro? Would he even remember Susannah? Had she been correct in presuming he might like her, or would this be a massive humiliation for her matchmaking scheme?
Their destination was clear now, the space between them and Bas open, and no other avenue was evident. Caro’s ears caught on the slight catching of Susannah’s breath beside her, and she did not bother to hide the smile at the very soft “Oh” that escaped her sister’s parted lips.
Bas had not seen them yet, for which Caro was grateful.
Surprise was the greater reward.
She gripped Susannah’s hand more tightly. “Trust me,” Caro whispered.
Susannah’s chin dipped in a tiny nod, her throat bobbing.
Caro cleared her throat. “Sebastian Darby, as I live and breathe!” she greeted as they came close enough.
Bas’s dark eyes flicked to her, then to Susannah. They widened markedly, darting down her frame and then up, then back to Caro. He turned his tall, lithe body toward them before bowing a very smart, very polite bow.
Very unlike the rascally elder brother he had always been with Caro.
“Caroline Brooks, how you have grown,” he replied, his voice as rumbling as ever but slightly rougher than she recalled.
How delightful.
Caro and Susannah curtseyed quickly, Caro more steadily than her sister. “Lovely to see you returned. Do you know my sister Susannah?” She gestured toward Susannah, just in case his mind was too discombobulated to comprehend her meaning.
He swallowed, his eyes going back to Susannah with an almost reverent light. “No . . . that is, I did not recall . . . It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Susannah. And I apologize if we have met before. I would think I would remember such a fortunate moment, but . . .”
Caro raised a brow, not that either of them saw it. Bas did not speak this much, but here he was, rambling away.
“I do not recall either, Mr. Darby,” Susannah murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I think your brother must have been at our house so often that I never considered his siblings even existing for a time. I know your mother, of course, and Mr. Samuel, but other than that, I am not certain I could have picked you or your sister out of a line of people.”
Now Caro bit down on her lip. Hard.
Susannah never spoke this much either, particularly to a stranger.
“But I would like to think I would remember meeting you as well,” Susannah went on, making Caro want to squeal in delight. “It might have . . . saved me.”
Well, that made Caro want to fan her face.
Bas smiled—smiled!—and took a small step closer. “Saved you from what, Miss Susannah?”
“Boredom,” Susannah said at once, still sounding shy but injecting enough humor into the word to make it clear. “I have been so very bored of late, Mr. Darby.”
“Then perhaps I might alleviate you of such a plague tonight,” Bas vowed. “I have it on good authority that I am very good company.”
“Who said that?” Caro asked with genuine curiosity. “I’ve never heard such a thing.”
Bas did not even spare her a glance. Instead, he offered an arm to Susannah, practically turning his back on Caro. “A turn about the room, Miss Susannah?”
Susannah blushed so prettily that an artist might have sought to paint a picture of it. “Yes, Mr. Darby. Thank you.”
Caro stepped back, releasing her sister and giggling to herself.
Bas glanced over his shoulder at her, a twinkle in his eyes. “Caro.”
“You owe me,” she mouthed.
One corner of his mouth quirked up.
“Bas,” she said aloud. “Susannah.”
Her sister bit her lip, and Caro winked in encouragement.
And then they were off.
Dusting her hands off, Caro nodded in satisfaction at her work.
Male laughter sounded from behind her, and she turned, belatedly remembering that Bas had been in conversation with someone, perhaps several someones, when she had interrupted.
And now he was away, without so much as a by-your-leave for his companions, which might have disrupted their time together.
Thankfully, the only man standing there was Mr. Sawyer, who was some sort of cousin of hers, and someone with whom she had no need for pretense, politeness, shame, or offense.
“Apologies, Mr. Sawyer,” she said with some sympathy. “I’d hoped he would react like that to meeting my sister, but I did not think he would be dramatic to that extent.”
Mr. Sawyer shook his head, still chuckling. “No need for apologies. I imagine you are feeling quite proud of yourself. I only wish Violet were here to see it.”
Caro beamed. “Yes, how is your wife-to-be?”
“Delightful,” came the reply. “Now that my conversation has been interrupted, will you dance with me? I’ll tell you all about her while we do.”
Nodding, Caro placed her hand in his. “Oh, why not?”