Historical Trio 2012-01 (11 page)

‘I do not even know where “here” is!’ she snapped caustically.

‘Blackstone House is in Mayfair,’ he elaborated. ‘And as soon as you are dressed, and the seamstress has gone about her business, I will be only too happy to take you out for a drive in my carriage.’

‘Accompanied by the maid I do not have?’ she came back derisively.

‘We are believed to be cousins, Caro,’ he reminded her drily. ‘Making such a fuss about the proprieties would be a nonsense.’

‘In that case, if you would send the dressmaker up to me now I should very much like to go out for a drive.’

Her tone, Dominic noted ruefully, was almost as imperious as Osbourne’s Aunt Gertrude’s. Further evidence, if he should need it, that Caro Morton was a woman used to instructing her own servants and having those instructions obeyed. Because she was, in fact, a lady of quality?

He crossed the room to once again stand beside the bed. ‘Have you considered the possibility, Caro, that I might be more…amenable, if you did not constantly challenge me?’

‘I have considered it, my lord—and as quickly dismissed it.’ Her expression was defiant as she glanced up at him. ‘It goes completely against my nature, you see.’

Dominic could not prevent his throaty chuckle as he looked down at her admiringly. No, he never found himself bored in Caro’s company, even when he was not making love to her! ‘I will arrange for the carriage to be brought round in an hour’s time.’ He gave her a brief bow before taking his leave.

Caro did not move for several minutes after he had left the bedchamber, still slightly breathless from the transformation that had overcome his austere features when he laughed. Those silver eyes had glowed warmly, with laughter lines fanning out at their sides, the curve of those sculptured lips revealing the white evenness of his teeth. Even that savage scar upon his cheek had softened. The whole rendered him so devastatingly handsome that just looking at him had stolen her breath away…

‘Relax, Caro,’ Dominic drawled softly as she sat tensely beside him as he controlled the reins of his curricle, his two favourite greys stepping out lively in the sun-dappled park. ‘By this time tomorrow, all of society will be agog to know who was the beautiful young lady riding in the park with Blackstone in his curricle.’ And she looked every inch a lady of quality in her rose-coloured gown and matching bonnet, with several golden curls framing the delicate beauty of her face, and her hands covered in pale cream gloves.

‘How disappointed they will be when they learn it is only your impoverished and widowed cousin up from the country,’ she came back tartly. ‘And the last thing I desire is to become the talk of London society,’ she added with a delicate shudder.

It was rather late for that, when to Dominic’s certain knowledge the male members of the
ton
, at least, had been avidly discussing the masked woman who had sung at Nick’s for the past week! Not that any of those men would recognise the blonde woman sitting so demurely beside him in his curricle as the same masked and ebony-haired siren who had entertained them so prettily at Nick’s; several of those gentlemen had already greeted Dominic as they passed in their own carriages, with no hint of recognition in their gazes as they’d glanced admiringly at the golden-haired beauty at his side.

‘A beautiful woman, impoverished or otherwise, is always a source of gossip amongst the members of the
ton
,’ he said.

Caro glanced at him beneath long golden lashes, noting how easily he kept the two feisty greys to a demure trot as he drove his elegant curricle through the park. She had also noted the admiring glances sent his way by all of the ladies in the passing carriages, before those covetous glances had shifted coldly on to Caro, no doubt due to the fact she was the one sitting beside the eligible Earl of Blackstone in his carriage.

Wearing a beautiful gown, and being driven through a London park in a fashionable carriage, with a wickedly handsome man at her side, had long been one of Caro’s dreams. But in those girlish dreams the man had been totally besotted with her, something she knew Dominic would never be with regard to her.

Admittedly, the circumstances under which they had first met had been less than ideal, but if Lady Caroline Copeland and Lord Dominic Vaughn, Earl of Blackstone, had met in a fashionable London drawing room, he would certainly have behaved more circumspectly towards her.

Except she was not, at this moment, Lady Caroline Copeland, and the earl’s casualness of manner towards her was reflective of that fact. ‘I believe I would like to return to Blackstone House now, if you please,’ she said stiffly.

Dominic glanced down at Caro, frowning slightly as he saw the way her lashes were uncharacteristically cast down. ‘There is a blanket beside you if you are becoming chilled?’

‘I am not in the least chilled; I would just prefer to leave now.’ Her voice was huskily soft, but determined.

Dominic transferred both reins to his right hand before reaching down with his left to lift Caro’s chin so that he might look into her face. Far from invigorating her, she seemed to have grown paler during the drive, and, unless he was mistaken, the glitter in her eyes was not due to her usual rebellion. ‘Are you about to cry?’ His voice sounded as incredulous as he felt.

‘Certainly not!’ She wrenched her chin out of his grasp and turned away. ‘I merely wish to return home, that is all. To Blackstone House, I meant, of course,’ she added awkwardly.

Dominic had known exactly what Caro meant. Strange, in all the years he had been the Earl of Blackstone, he had never particularly regarded any of his houses or estates as being his home—how could he, when all of them were a reminder of the parents who had both died when he was but twelve years old?

Or how, along with those memories, came the nightmare reminder of the part he had played in their deaths! Memories that were usually kept firmly at bay, but had haunted him this past few hours…

‘Of course.’ Dominic gave a curt nod before turning the greys in front of the curricle back towards Blackstone House. ‘Perhaps you should go to your bedchamber and rest before dinner?’

‘I am simply grown bored of driving in the park, Dominic; I am not decrepit!’

He gave an appreciative smile as Caro answered with some of her usual spirit, all trace of what he had thought were tears having disappeared as she glared up at him. ‘I assure you, Caro, I would not have brought you out driving with me at all if I thought you decrepit.’

‘Is that because only women you consider beautiful are allowed in your curricle?’ she asked, regarding him with a scornful purse to her mouth.

Dominic dearly wished to kiss that expression from her lips. Damn it, he had wanted nothing more than to kiss her again since she had appeared downstairs earlier looking breathtakingly beautiful in the rose-coloured gown and bonnet!

‘No woman, beautiful or otherwise, has ever been invited to accompany me to the park in my curricle before today,’ he admitted after a moment of silence.

She eyed him curiously. ‘Should I feel flattered?’

‘Do you?’ Dominic asked.

‘Not in the least,’ she said with a return of her usual waspishness. ‘No doubt, as far as the gentlemen of the
ton
are concerned at least, it will only add to your considerable reputation if you are believed to have the ebony-haired masked lady from Nick’s in your bed at night, and a golden-haired lady in your curricle by day.’

Dominic gave her a mocking glance. ‘No doubt,’ he agreed.

Caro’s eyes flashed deeply green. ‘You—Dominic, there is a dog about to run in front of the carriage!’ She reached out to grasp his forearm, half-rising in her seat as the fluffy white creature ran directly in front of the hooves of the now-prancing greys, quickly followed by a young girl in a straw bonnet who seemed to have the same disregard for her own welfare as the dog as she narrowly avoided being trampled under the hoofs of the rearing horses before following the animal across the pathway, and on to the grass, and then running into the woodland in hot pursuit without so much as a glance at the occupants of the carriage.

It took Dominic several minutes to bring the startled greys back under his control, by which time the dog and the girl had both completely disappeared, leaving Caro with the startled impression that the young girl in the straw bonnet had looked remarkably like her younger sister, Elizabeth!

Chapter Seven

‘B
ring brandy into the library, would you, Simpson?’ Dominic instructed the butler as he kept a firm hold of Caro’s arm, unsure as to whether or not she might faint away at his feet if he did not.

Admittedly, the near-miss in the park had been of concern for several seconds, but even so he had been surprised to see Caro so white and shaking after the event. Damn it, she was
still
white and shaking!

His hand tightened on her arm. ‘At once, if you please,’ he said to the butler briskly before taking Caro into the library and closing the door against curious eyes. He led her gently across the room and saw her seated in the chair beside the fireplace.

Ordinarily, he would have been impatient with a woman’s display of nerves. But having already witnessed Caro’s fortitude several times—when faced with the ribaldry of three young bucks, in the midst of a brawl, and then again when Osbourne had received a beating by those four thugs—Dominic could only feel concern that a minor incident, such as the one that had happened in the park just now, should have reduced her to this trembling state.

He moved down on to his haunches beside the chair in which she now sat, before placing one of his hands on top of her clasped and trembling ones. ‘No harm was done, Caro. In fact,’ he continued drily, ‘I believe that young girl to be completely unaware of the near-accident that she caused.’

The young girl who had reminded Caro so much of her younger sister, Elizabeth…

For it could not really have been Elizabeth, could it? No, the young and ebony-haired girl in the blue gown and spring bonnet could not possibly have been Elizabeth, only someone who looked a little like her—because Elizabeth was safely ensconced at Shoreley Hall with their sister, Diana.

Caro had been reminding herself of that fact for the ten minutes or so that it had taken Dominic to drive the curricle back to Blackstone House—all the while shooting her frowning glances from those silver-coloured eyes, at what he obviously viewed to be her overreaction to the near-accident.

An assumption she dared not refute, for fear he would then demand an explanation as to what had really upset her.

She pulled both her hands from beneath his much larger, enveloping one. ‘Do not fuss, Dominic. I assure you I am now perfectly recovered!’

Dominic straightened to step away and lean his arm casually upon the top of the mantel as he looked down at her; this caustic Caro was much more like the one he had come to know these past two days. ‘I am glad to hear it.’ He gave a mocking inclination of his head, giving away none, he hoped, of his own disturbed emotions with regard to the near-accident.

It was difficult, nearly impossible after all that had already happened this past twelve hours, for the incident not to have once again reminded Dominic of the carriage accident that had killed his mother sixteen years ago, and resulted in the death of his father, too, only days later. Especially when Caro had obviously been rendered so upset by it all.

‘Ah, thank you, Simpson.’ He turned to the butler as he entered to place the tray containing the brandy decanter and glasses down upon the table in the centre of the room.

‘I trust Mrs Morton is feeling better, my lord?’ The remark was addressed to Dominic, but the elderly man’s gaze lingered in concern on Caro as she sat so white and still beside the fire.

She turned now to bestow a gracious smile upon the older man. ‘I am quite well now, thank you, Simpson.’ She continued to smile warmly as she removed her bonnet.

Dominic listened incredulously to the exchange—when, by all that was holy, had Caro managed to beguile his butler? An elderly man who was usually so stiffly correct he was in danger of cutting himself from the starch in his collar. ‘That will be all, Simpson,’ he dismissed the servant curtly.

Caro waited until the two of them were alone before speaking. ‘I believe, Dominic, that you might find your servants were happier in their work if you were to treat them with a little more politeness.’

Brought to task by this little baggage, by damn! ‘And what, pray, would
you
know about servants’ happiness in their work?’ Dominic decided to attack rather than defend, and was instantly rewarded with the flush that coloured her cheeks. ‘Unless, of course, you were once a servant yourself?’

Her chin rose. ‘And if I were?’

Then Dominic would be surprised.
Very
surprised! ‘I will know the story of your past one day, Caro,’ he warned softly as he moved to pour brandy into two glasses.

She eyed him coolly. ‘I doubt you would find it at all interesting, my lord.’

He moved to hand her one of the bulbous glasses. ‘Oh, I believe that I might…’

Rather than answer him, Caro took a sip of her brandy, her eyes widening as the fiery alcohol hit the back of her throat and completely took her breath away. ‘My goodness…!’ she gasped, her eyes watering as the liquid continued to burn a path down to her stomach.

Dominic eyed her with amusement. ‘I take it that you have never drunk brandy before?’

She placed the glass carefully down upon the table beside her. ‘It is dreadful stuff. Disgusting!’

‘I believe it may be something of an acquired taste.’ He took another appreciative sip.

Caro gave a delicate shudder, her stomach still feeling as if there were a fire lit inside it. ‘It is not one I ever intend to acquire, I assure you.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ he smiled. ‘There is nothing so unattractive to a man as an inebriated woman.’

Caro wrinkled her nose delicately. ‘Really? In what way?’

‘Never mind. Would you care for some tea, instead?’

‘That will not be necessary—oh. Do you play?’ Caro had taken the time to glance about the comfortable library as the two of them talked, spotting the chess pieces set up on the table beside the window.

Dominic followed her line of vision. ‘Do you?’

‘A little,’ she answered noncommittally.

His brows rose. ‘Really?’

‘You do not sound as if you believe me?’ Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

He shrugged. ‘In my experience, women do not usually play chess.’

‘Then I must be an unusual woman, because I believe I play rather well.’

Dominic didn’t doubt she was an unusual woman; she had been the source of one surprise after another since he had first met her.

‘Would you care for a game before dinner?’ she challenged lightly.

He grimaced. ‘I think not. I was taught by a grand master,’ he explained as Caro looked up at him enquiringly.

As the undisputed chess champion in her family and that included her father, she felt no hesitation in pitting her own considerable ability against Dominic Vaughn’s or anyone else’s. She was certainly a good enough player that she would not embarrass herself.

She stood up to cross over to the chess-table. The pieces appeared to have been smoothly carved out of black-and-white marble, the table inlaid with a board of that same beautiful marble. She glanced back to where Dominic still stood beside the fireplace. ‘Surely you cannot be refusing to play against me simply because I am a woman?’

‘Not at all,’ Dominic drawled. ‘I simply prefer to play against an opponent I consider to be my equal in the game.’

Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know I am not until we have played together?’

He quirked a brow. ‘A game in the nursery with your nanny does not equip you to play a champion.’

Caro bristled. ‘You are being presumptuous, sir!’

‘Concerning your game or the nanny?’

‘Both!’ Caro was all too well aware how determined Dominic was to learn more of her past. ‘But being a gentleman of the
ton
, perhaps you would find it more of a challenge if I were to propose a wager?’

He eyed her guardedly. ‘What sort of wager?’

‘Are you any further forwards in your enquiries concerning the attack upon Lord Thorne?’

Dominic’s expression became even more cautious. ‘I am hoping to receive news on the subject later today.’

‘But you are not sure?’ she pressed.

Dominic’s mouth tightened. ‘At this precise moment, no.’

Caro nodded briskly. ‘In that case, if I win, I would like for you to find me other accommodation sooner rather than later.’

Those silver eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘I do not have to state a reason, my lord, merely name a forfeit,’ she pointed out primly. ‘And if you win—’

‘Should I not be allowed to choose your own forfeit for myself?’ Dominic interjected softly, those silver eyes glittering in challenge.

She drew in a deep breath, not at all sure she had not ventured beyond her depth, after all; Dominic seemed utterly convinced that he would win any game of chess between them. But she could not back down now; she owed it to other females who played chess to defend their reputation against such obvious male bigotry! Besides which, she dearly wished to escape Blackstone House. And the disturbing Lord Dominic Vaughn… ‘Name your forfeit, my lord.’

‘Dominic.’

Her eyes widened. ‘That is your forfeit?’

‘That is only an aside request, Caro, and not the actual forfeit,’ he said. ‘I am sure you will not find it too difficult to do; you seem to have no trouble at all in calling me Dominic before launching yourself into my arms!’ Those silver-coloured eyes openly laughed at her now beneath long dark lashes.

Caro’s cheeks burned, not at all sure which occasion he was referring to—there had been so many, it seemed! ‘Very well, name my forfeit…Dominic.’

He seemed to give the matter some thought. ‘You will reveal something of your true self to me, perhaps?’

Caro looked at him warily. She knew of her own ability in playing the game of chess, but Dominic’s self-confidence could not be overlooked, either; he was so obviously sure of his ability that he had not even attempted to dispute the forfeit she would demand of him if she were the victor. To agree to tell him something of her true self was not something she had ever intended doing, either now or in the future. But then, neither did she intend allowing him to win this game of chess… ‘Very well, I agree.’ She gave a haughty inclination of her head.

Dominic lounged back in his chair, his expression one of boredom as the game began, sure that he was wasting both his own time and hers by playing at all.

After only a few more moves in the game he knew that victory was not going to be so easily won. Caro’s opening gambit had been an unusual one, and one Dominic had put down to her lack of experience in the game, but as he now studied the pieces on the board he saw that if the game continued on its current path, then she would have him in check for the first time in only three more moves.

‘Very good,’ he murmured appreciatively as he moved his king out of danger.

Caro could see that, instead of continuing to lounge back uninterestedly, she now had all of Dominic’s attention. ‘Perhaps we might play in earnest now?’ Her heart did a strange leap as he looked up to smile across the table at her. A warm and genuine smile that owed nothing to his usual expression of mockery or disdain, and instead leant a boyish charm to the usual severe austerity of his face.

‘I am looking forward to it, Caro,’ he replied, his attention now fully on the chessboard.

The maid, Mabel, had come in and attended to the fire, and Simpson had arrived to light several candles whilst the game continued, but neither opponent had even been aware of their presence as they concentrated completely on the chessboard between them.

It had become more than a game of chess to Caro; it had come to represent the inequality of the relationship that currently existed between the two of them. An equality that would not have existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Lady Caroline Copeland, but which most definitely existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Caro Morton. As such, it had become more than a battle of wills to Caro, and she played like a fiend in her determination not to be beaten.

Something that Dominic was well aware of as he studied her flushed and determined face between narrowed lids. Her eyes were more green than blue in their intensity, and the flush added colour to her otherwise porcelain white cheeks and down across the full swell of her breasts. Those rosy tips were no doubt deeper in colour, too, and were perhaps swollen and begging for the feel of his—

‘Check!’ Caro announced with barely concealed excitement.

Dominic’s attention was reluctant to return to the board rather than considering the taste of Caro’s breasts. He moved his own piece out of danger.

Irritation creased Caro’s brow before clearing again as she made another move. ‘Check.’

Dominic studied the board intently for several seconds. ‘I believe that we will only continue in this vein
ad nauseam
, and that this game, therefore, must be declared a draw.’

She eyed him mockingly. ‘Unless you were to concede?’

‘Or you were?’

She sat back in her chair. ‘I think not.’

‘Then we will call it a draw.’ Dominic said. ‘And hope that one of us will be the victor on the morrow.’

‘We could play again now—’