Dark Angel (42 page)

"But you're thriving, Dolly. Will you take coffee or tea?"

"I can't," Dolly said with a little moue of regret. "I have a fitting and I daren't be late, dressmakers have grown so demanding. Caro, love, you're much too pale and much too thin." She glanced around the small room, little bigger than her father-in-law's study. "I'm sure you're comfortable here, but I do wish you'd come to us."

"Thank you, Dolly, no."

Dolly shrugged, looked frantically for her gloves and reticule, then got to her feet. "Very well, I understand. At least I think I understand. Your life these past few years is utterly beyond my comprehension. But you must know that I'm determined to do something for you, Caro. You can't be allowed to wilt here in Red Lion Square."

Caroline laughed. Dolly's bubbling good nature always made her think of champagne. "Dolly, I'm in mourning."

"Nonsense," Dolly said, drawing on her gloves. "I was at a reception last night and at least three people told me Lord Sheriton was driving Mrs. Rawley in the park. One of the most eligible partis in London and you've already made a conquest. So you're not mourning all that deeply."

Caroline knew Dolly was not being callous. Dolly had known exactly the state of affairs between Caroline and Jared long before the scandal that sent them out of the country.

Dolly had now finished with her gloves. "You must come to dinner. Let's say this Friday. A very small party, just the family. You know, Caro," she added with the first hint of seriousness she'd shown during her visit, "it doesn't matter a fig what Jared did. I never cared at all, and Edward has long since forgiven him."

Caroline looked at her friend with gratitude. She was not completely alone. "Thank you, Dolly, I'd love to come."

They walked toward the door. "There," Dolly said, giving Caroline a hug. "I'm so glad I thought of it. We'll be ever so jolly, just like old times. I know that Granby regrets your leaving so quickly yesterday and Edward has talked of nothing but your return. Oh, and I have the greatest surprise. We expect Talbot to be with us as well."

Chapter Eighteen

Emily leaned against the dressing table and looked up at her mother. "I want my hair to look like that."

There was a hissing sound as Elena set down the curling tongs. "After your mama leaves, we'll come back up here and turn you into a fine lady," she promised.

Emily, who had been rather subdued at the prospect of her mother going out for the evening, smiled. She studied Caroline again. "You look like that picture in the book we have at home, Mama. Nelly."

"Nelly?" Elena asked, brushing loose strands of hair from her fingers.

"Nell Gwyn. She was an actress and a—a favorite of Charles II." Caroline rested her chin on her hands and studied her reflection in the looking glass. A stranger stared back at her, part the fashionable Mrs. Rawley of five years ago, part Emily's mother, part neither. With Elena's help she had coaxed her hair into a tangle of ringlets about her face and twisted the back into a loose knot anchored with her silver comb. Emily was right, it resembled the hairstyles of Restoration beauties like Nell Gwyn. When she lived in London Caroline had frequently worn her hair this way. But though her cheeks and lips were delicately tinged with rouge, her face bore the legacy of Lisbon and Acquera. Her skin was no longer as dry and chapped as it had been in Spain, but it would never again have the freshness of twenty-two.

Caroline smoothed the tiny lines round her eyes. Her hands smelled of Pears Soap. She smiled. There were times, in the bleakness of Acquera's winter, when she had thought she missed proper soap more than any of the more extravagant luxuries she had left behind.

A crystal bottle of scent, rescued from her trunks, now stood on the dressing table, looking ridiculously grand amid the simpler appointments. Caroline removed the stopper and sniffed experimentally. The scent of hyacinth and roses had endured. On impulse, she dabbed on a generous amount.

Emily watched her intently. "May I have some?" she asked, holding out her hands.

Caroline laughed and touched the stopper to Emily's wrists, then stood, telling herself she was too old to sit staring in the mirror. The gray dress she had worn on the
Sea Horse
was laid out on the bed, the wrinkles carefully smoothed away by Jessie. Caroline slipped off her muslin dressing gown and carefully eased the cool, light silk over her head.

"I don't see why you can't wear pretty colors just because Papa died," Emily said, kneeling on the bed.

"Your mama's lucky to have her coloring," Elena said, doing up the tiny, innumerable strings on Caroline's dress. "If I wear mourning colors they make me look dull. Not that I ever did wear them," she added, fastening the last string. "You don't, with the army."

She spoke matter-of-factly, as she always did when talking of her dead husband, but there was a bleak note in her voice. Caroline turned and looked sharply at her friend. She had thought Elena and Hawkins had begun to work out their differences on the
Sea Horse,
but she had sensed a strain between them these last few days though outwardly they were still on amicable terms. The Wellstones had had dinner guests yesterday evening, but Elena had not worn the earrings Hawkins had given her. Now Caroline saw more evidence of strain in Elena's usually animated face. But there was nothing she could say with Emily in the room.

Caroline moved back to the dressing table and opened her jewel case. Emily jumped off the bed. "Will you see Bella and Ned tonight?" she asked, running over to look at the treasure trove. Dolly had brought her children to Red Lion Square two days ago and Emily had taken to them as quickly as she'd taken to the Fentons.

"Probably not." Caroline clasped her pearl necklace round her neck and hunted for a pair of earrings to go with it. "I expect they'll be asleep by the time I get to Granby House."

"Suppose they wake up?"

"Then their nurse will look after them." Caroline selected a pair of pearl and diamond earrings. They had been an early gift from Jared and she wondered with a pang how much they had contributed to his mountain of debt.

"But wouldn't you hear if they called?" Emily persisted, puzzled by this image.

Caroline fastened the second earring. For the first time she realized how much she would have missed if she'd still been living in London when Emily was born. "The nursery is at the top of the house and the dining room is on the ground floor," she explained.

"Granby House must be very big," Emily said solemnly.

Caroline grinned. "Enormous." She leaned forward and kissed Emily on the nose. Then she stood, shook out the folds of her dress, and pulled on her gloves. Her evening cloak was lying over the back of a chair. Caroline hesitated as she touched the soft black velvet. It was the cloak she had worn the night she had gone to Adam's lodgings five years ago. To her surprise, she found she welcomed the reminder of Adam. She laid the cloak over her arm, smoothing the fabric with care, and turned to her daughter and Elena. "Well? Do I pass muster?"

"You look like a princess," Emily said with an earnestness which brought a lump to Caroline's throat.

"You look ten times better than those stuffed-up ladies in the park," Elena said. Hawkins had taken her walking in Hyde Park one afternoon and she hadn't been impressed by British fashions.

The three of them walked downstairs together. Margaret and Hawkins were waiting to see Caroline off, which didn't surprise her. So was Adam, which did. She turned the corner from the first floor landing and saw him standing at the base of the stairs. For a moment his eyes were lit with something far more intense than admiration. Then it was gone, replaced by a calm detached gaze that she found inexpressibly painful.

Hawkins let out an admiring exclamation. "If you'll forgive my saying so, I'd never know it was the same woman we fished out of the Carrión."

Caroline laughed. Then, without meaning to, she looked at Adam again. Their gazes locked. "Every bit the lady of fashion, Mrs. Rawley," he said. "I congratulate you."

The words were light, the edge to them so subtle that probably only Caroline could hear it. "Thank you." She paused at the base of the stairs, one hand on the polished banister. "Elena and Emily did all the work."

Adam moved toward the stairs. "A talented household." Suddenly his hand closed over hers, not gently. "Be careful, Caro."

It was the first time he had touched her since that night on the
Sea Horse.
A tremor ran through her, sharp and disturbing. Her fears about meeting Talbot welled to the surface. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to walk into Adam's arms. "He won't do anything in his father's house, Adam," Caroline said, snatching her hand away. "I'm safer there than any place in London."

"That's no reason not to be careful." Adam held her gaze with his own for a moment longer, then turned to Emily. "How about a game of marbles while your mother's out?"

"Elena's going to make me look like a lady," Emily said.
"Then
we can play marbles."

Adam gave a rueful smile. "First things first."

Caroline moved down the last step and carefully smoothed her gloves. It was Hawkins who helped her into her cloak, walked her down the front steps, and handed her into the Wellstones' waiting carriage. She waved out the window at Margaret, Elena, and Emily. There was no sign of Adam.

It was less than two miles from Red Lion Square to Granby House, but the press of carriages made the going slow. Caroline had forgot how crowded Mayfair became in the evening. The sight of the innumerable carriages in the streets brought memories of countless minutes spent waiting to reach a ball or reception, only to spend countless more standing in line in the entrance hall, before finally reaching a crowded room. It had once seemed a perfectly sensible way to spend her time.

Granby House was brilliantly lit. Caroline was greeted by the same footman who had admitted her on her earlier visit, but this time with unfailing courtesy. He led her up the carpeted marble staircase to the crimson salon which was three times the size of Margaret's drawing room, though Caroline knew it was reserved for intimate gatherings. The scent of sweet-smelling wax tapers filled the air. Utrecht velvet, mellowed by age and candlelight to a deep rose, covered the walls. Gilt paint, worn to a fine antique lustre, glinted on chairs and tables and picture frames and the heavy molded ribs which outlined the grisaille paintings in the ceiling.

The company were disposed about the room with the casual ease of those perfectly at home in such surroundings. Caroline took them in at a glance while the footman announced her. Dolly was sitting on a sofa beside a pretty, dark-haired woman in a blue satin dress who looked vaguely familiar, though Caroline could not remember her name. Four men were grouped round them. Caroline saw Talbot at once. Her pulse quickening, she avoided his gaze and looked at the other three. Edward. An attractive man she did not recognize. And Sherry. Caroline was not sure whether his presence made her feel more or less at ease.

As Caroline stepped into the room, Dolly rose from the sofa and came toward her with a rustle of yellow silk and beaded lace and a waft of expensive scent. "My dear, you look ravishing," she said, taking Caroline's arm, "I never could wear gray."

Edward walked forward as his wife drew Caroline into the room. His sandy hair was thinner than Caroline remembered and the furrow between his brows seemed to have deepened, but his serious face was lit by a smile. "Caroline. It's been far too long." He took her hand and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.

There was no trace of animosity or bitterness over the past. Caroline felt some of the tension drain from her. But as Edward released her, she saw Talbot standing just behind his brother's shoulder. She barely had time to be nervous before Talbot put a cousinly arm round her and kissed her cheek as well. "My dear girl, thank goodness," he said. "I've been so worried."

Caroline forced herself not to stiffen, not to withdraw from his embrace too quickly. She pulled back and looked into Talbot's eyes for the first time since Freneda. He was smiling, his face relaxed by laughter. He looked just as he had at their last meeting, when she still thought of him as a friend. For a moment Caroline was convinced it was all a mistake. The man standing scarcely three feet away from her, the man she had often talked with in this very room, couldn't possibly have hired men to have her killed.

"I must tell you I feel quite slighted," Talbot said. "What the devil were you about running off like that in Freneda?"

Caroline tensed, recalling Emily's frightened voice, Hawkins's account of the thin man's words to Colborne, Adam's warning before she left Red Lion Square. "I'm so sorry, Talbot," she said with one of the bright, artificial smiles that were as much an accessory of London life as gloves or a fan. "I didn't feel I could impose on you. And Mr. Durward was in a great hurry."

Talbot drew in his breath. "Durward—"

"Yes," Dolly said quickly, "you can talk to Caroline later, Talbot. You must meet the other guests," she continued, drawing Caroline toward the sofa. "Emily, you remember my cousin Caroline Rawley, don't you?"

"Of course." The dark-haired woman smiled. "I always thought you were one of the prettiest women in London. I was quite horribly jealous."

Caroline laughed, recognizing the woman as Emily, Countess Cowper. "I find that difficult to believe," Caroline said truthfully. With her luxuriant hair, large dark eyes, and aristocratic features, Emily Cowper was an unquestionable beauty. Her mother, Lady Melbourne, was one of London's most influential hostesses and Emily was following in her footsteps. Dolly and Emily were good friends, but Caroline and Jared had always been on the fringe of the Cowpers' exclusive set.

"And this," Dolly said, nodding toward the attractive man who was standing beside the sofa, "is Lord Palmerston. And of course you know Lord Sheriton."

Sherry was smiling as if he was absurdly glad to see her. Caroline smiled back, but her attention was drawn to Palmerston. Here was the third of the men sitting in judgment on Adam. He was younger than she had expected, no older than Adam himself. His smile was friendly and his eyes intelligent. He did not look like someone who would be swayed by the opinions of others, let alone by Talbot.