Improper Ladies (16 page)

But they were not entirely alone. A few other couples had come outside in search of a cool breeze and stood along the marble balustrade talking and looking out at the sea. Justin and Caroline walked along until they came to the end of the terrace, where it was quiet and dark, except for the bars of light and faint music that came from the window.

Caroline stepped into the shadows and turned her face to the light breeze from the sea.

“Mother has been saying we should go soon to Waring Castle,” Justin said softly.

Caroline looked at him. His face was half in shadow, and he watched the water.

“Your country estate?” she said.

“Yes. She does not want to go; she is quite loath to quit Wycombe. But I have not been to Waring since I returned to England, and it is past time to see to my duty.”

“Of course. Will you go soon?”

“Perhaps in a fortnight; not sooner. The Bellweathers are thinking of going to Brighton then, and Mother won’t want to leave while they are still here.”

A fortnight. Caroline closed her eyes against the sudden rush of ineffable sadness. In only fourteen days the idyllic summer of picnics, boating, concerts, and suppers would be at an end. Justin and his family would be gone, vanished into their world of duty, and she and Phoebe would be at loose ends again.

She did not want to lose it all, she realized with a fierce pang. She didn’t want to lose that feeling of respectability, of belonging that the summer had brought. She didn’t want to lose dear Lady Lyndon’s friendship, or the chance to laugh at Harry’s ridiculous antics, or play at dolls with the little Bellweather girls.

Above all, she did not want to lose Justin. Their conversations, the times she was in his company, had come to mean so much.

They meant all the world.

She had done what she swore she would never do—she had fallen in love. With Justin. Lord Lyndon. The one man who could expose her for the terrible fraud she was.

“Phoebe and I will ... will miss you terribly,” she managed to choke out, when all she really wanted to do was run away and hide, to cry alone like a wounded animal.

“I know that Harry will miss your sister. To be honest, I think he means to make her an offer before we go. But I have been thinking he should go to oversee another estate of ours, Seward Park, and grow up a bit before he takes on such responsibility.”

Caroline nodded. “I did fear that. Not that you would send him away, that he would make her an offer.”

“Feared?”

“Yes. You are being honest, Lord Lyndon, so I will be as well. Once, all I could have wished for Phoebe would be to marry someone from a family like yours. It would be a great honor for her. But I see now that even though she is of an age to wed, she is too young in her feelings. I would be doing her a great disservice to let her make the same mistake I did.”

“You married too young?”

“Oh, yes. So I think you are wise to give Harry some task far away. Phoebe and I will travel for a year, maybe come to London for the Season. Perhaps then, if your brother were to meet us again, things would be different. If you had no objections?”

“How could I? Harry would be lucky to win your sister. Miss Lane is charming.” He paused, then went on in an oddly thick voice. “But not quite as charming as you.”

Caroline looked up at him, confused. Could he possibly? ...

No. He could not be feeling the same way she was.

But his gaze was intense as he looked at her, his eyes almost silver in the meager light.

Inside, the orchestra began a waltz, and its lilting strains floated out to them on the night wind.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked.

Wordlessly, Caroline nodded. The heat of the evening no longer seemed to matter, for she craved the warmth of Justin’s touch.

He slid his arm about her waist, warm and secure through the silk of her gown. She made the automatic motions of sweeping up her short train in one hand and sliding the other into his.

His fingers closed about hers tightly, and they began to move. Unmindful of anyone who might be watching, they swayed and turned about their small patch of marble.

Closer than was strictly proper, their bodies moved together as if they had been dancing thus for years. His legs brushed against the silk of her skirts, and the fabric clung to him, as Caroline longed to do herself.

Slowly, they twirled to a halt at the edge of the terrace, alone in the darkest shadows. Caroline stared up at him, as breathless as if she had run a mile. Her heart was full, so full she feared it might burst.

He looked down at her, his lips parted as if he were about to say something but could not find the words. Then he
did
find the words.

“Mrs. Aldritch,” he whispered, “I do believe I love you.”

And Caroline’s heart
did
burst. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and falling down her cheeks, but she could not let go of him to brush them away. She had been alone, lonely, for so long. She needed his closeness, his touch. Only his. Justin’s.

“I think,” she whispered back, “that you should call me Caroline.”

Caroline,
Justin’s mind sang.
Caroline, Caroline.
He looked at her in the moonlight and thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight. She almost glowed, as if she were made of the finest marble, the most expensive alabaster.

“Caroline,” he whispered. Only that. But all his heart was in that one word.

She must have heard all the ache, all the longing in his voice, for her lips parted in an expression of wonder. “Justin,” she whispered. “Justin.”

He glanced quickly behind them. Everyone who was on the terrace had gone back inside to join the waltz, but the windows all stood open.

“Walk with me in the garden,” he urged.

“I ...” She looked around uncertainly. “I should look in on Phoebe.”

“My mother is no doubt watching her. It will only be for a moment. Please.”

She nodded and walked with him down the terrace steps into the small garden adjacent to the sea. Once they were outside the light, he slid his arm about her waist. She leaned against him, her pale hair brushing against the shoulder of his coat.

They stopped beneath the sheltering branches of a tree, and Caroline turned to face him.

“Did I shock you with my words of love?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It has been a long time since I was shocked by anything. Though I was rather surprised. We have not known each other very long.”

“Does that mean that you do not return my feelings? You know you need only say the word and I will bother you no more.”

She gave him a little half smile. “Bother me? Silly man. Don’t you know that I love you, too?”

Joy unlike any he had ever known blossomed in Justin’s tired heart. Joy and another unfamiliar emotion.

Hope.

Hope for the future, for a happy life, a family of his own. With this woman, who was so unlike anyone he had ever met before, all things seemed possible.

In a burst of emotion, he pulled her closer to him and lowered his lips to hers.

Her mouth was soft and cool, and it yielded so sweetly, so perfectly beneath his. He felt her rise up on tiptoes and slide her arms about his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair.

The kiss, so gently begun, caught fire. Justin drew her even closer, urged her lips to part under his passion.

She responded, clinging to him, mingling her sighs, her soft moans, with his.

Suddenly, he knew that if they went on this way he would not be able to stop with a kiss. He would not be able to let her go all night.

He pulled away from her slowly and dragged in long, ragged breaths of warm night air. Her forehead fell to his shoulder, and he felt her slim frame tremble under his hands.

He held her away a bit and saw tears on her cheeks, shimmering in the moonlight. “Caroline!” he cried, shocked at this reaction to his kiss. Was he so terribly out of practice, then? “What is wrong?”

She shook her head and wiped away the teardrops with her gloved hand. “It is just that I am so happy. I have never felt this way before, ever. It is too wonderful. Too wonderful to last.”

He drew her back against him, holding her very tightly. So tightly he could vow he felt her heart beat against his chest. He rested his cheek against the silk of her hair and closed his eyes.

“Of course it will last,” he said firmly. “Of course it will.”

Her grip tightened, crushing the fabric of his coat. “Justin, promise me that, no matter what, you will always remember this night, this perfect, perfect night. And remember that I love you with all my heart.”

“I shall have to remember it, won’t I? To tell our grandchildren someday.”

She gave an oddly hysterical little laugh and answered, “Yes.” Her voice turned suddenly sad, as if she knew a secret that he did not. “Yes.”

 

 

Late that night, after the assembly was over and everyone else was abed, Justin sat in his library, staring out the window at the waning moon.

The same moon he had kissed Caroline Aldritch under.

It had been a glorious kiss, the most wonderful, the most intimate of his life. It had felt almost as if he held the very essence of her in his arms and shared himself with her in a way he had never done with anyone else.

And she had seemed to feel it, too. But then she had pulled away, her face sad and strangely bitter.

She said she loved him. But did she then change her mind?

He longed to see her again, right that moment. The wild boy he had once been would have gone to her house and climbed up to her window, demanded to know the truth of what was in her mind, in her heart.

The respectable earl he was now knew he would have to wait until the next day to see her, to talk to her. But it felt like a hundred years until daylight.

 

 

Caroline also lay awake in her bed, listening to the distant sounds of the sea whispering through her open window. Her scarred ankle itched, and as she reached down to rub it she thought about the moments in the garden, going over each one carefully, minutely.

They had been the most perfect moments of her life, and she wanted to memorize each one, tuck them close, and hold them forever. For she knew it could not last.

Justin truly loved her. She did believe that. He understood her, understood her struggles, as she understood him. But she could not be with him. Once he knew the truth about the Golden Feather and Mrs. Archer, he would look at her very differently. He might understand the forces that had led her along that path, but he had a family, a title, and a position to uphold.

Yes, he might now be talking about the grandchildren they would have together, but he would not be after he found out about her past.

And she knew, as surely as she knew she loved him, that she would have to tell him. Soon.

“What shall we do today, Caro?” Phoebe asked, stretching out on a chaise set in a patch of morning sunlight. She looked like a satisfied little cat, lazy after the dancing and talking of the night before.

Caroline looked up from the book she was ostensibly reading. In truth, she had not turned a page in fully fifteen minutes; she was too caught up in thoughts of Justin to concentrate. “Whatever you like, I suppose, dearest. We have no engagements until the Westons’ supper this evening. Would you want to go to the shops?”

Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “It is too warm to shop. Last night I thought I would faint for lack of air in the assembly rooms.”

“You seemed to be having a fine time.”

“Oh, I was! Anytime I can dance is a fine time.” She slid Caroline a sly glance. “I noticed you quite vanished before the supper.”

Caroline looked back down at her book. “I was in need of some air.”

“Ah, yes. Apparently so was Lord Lyndon.” Phoebe leaned forward eagerly. “Is there anything you want to tell your sister, Caro? Anything at all?”

Tell Phoebe that she kissed Lord Lyndon in the moonlight, but she couldn’t marry him because she had once been the proprietor of a gaming hell? Caroline thought not.

“I did happen to stroll with him on the terrace for a while,” she answered carefully. “But there is no need to act like this is scene from one of your novels, Phoebe. There were many other people there, and ... and nothing of any consequence happened.”

“Nothing at all?”

She just lost her heart, that was all. “Nothing.”

Phoebe fell back with a disappointed little huff. “How very vexing. I was hoping this would be a
romantic
summer.”

Caroline laughed at her pouting expression. “I believe you have enough romance for the both of us. This house is flooded with bouquets from your admirers every day.”

Phoebe tried to shrug carelessly, but she looked too pleased for it to be effective. “But that is not really romance!”

“It isn’t? Then what is?”

“Grand emotion! Passionate declarations! Embraces under the stars!” She peered closer at Caroline. “Did you and Lord Lyndon embrace under the stars?”

Caroline laughed harder. “Phoebe!”

“No? Well, you should have.”

Caroline decided that a small fib might be in order. “We did not ‘embrace under the stars.’ And you and young Mr. Seward had best not have done so, either.”

“Oh, Harry Seward. All he has talked of these last few days is ‘making a name for himself and ‘having adventures.’ Nothing romantic at all. I don’t know what has gotten into him.”

Caroline nodded. She remembered Justin saying he wanted to send Harry to manage one of the family’s smaller estates, but she would have thought Harry would not be very enthusiastic about it. Perhaps she had been wrong, and he liked the idea of his independence.