Caroline made no reply; she felt that if she did she might say something rude, and therefore it was best to say nothing at all.
‘Did you hear me, Caroline?’
‘Yes, Aunt, of course.’ Caroline folded her hands primly in her lap.
‘Indeed,’ Louisa Taunton said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘I do hope you are not sulking. I cannot abide gels that sulk.’
‘No, Aunt, I am not sulking.’ Caroline held on to her temper by a thread. If she was forced to endure much more of this, she would rather go home and never marry! She was fuming inside, and found it difficult to produce more than a polite smile when she was introduced to her hostess. However, as she followed her aunt’s progress through the reception rooms, her mood began to lift.
Music was playing in the furthest room, which was the ballroom, and there was an atmosphere of excitement that communicated itself to Caroline. She looked about her, admiring the lovely gowns some of the ladies were wearing, and the flash of costly jewels. Overhead, a shower of sparkling light fell on the company from the massive chandeliers.
‘Caroline, pay attention,’ Lady Taunton said, recalling her thoughts sharply. ‘This gentleman is Sir Henry Forsythe and he has just asked you for the honour of the next dance.’
‘Oh…thank you,’ Caroline said, relieved that the gentleman was in his middle years and quite attractive. She dropped a curtsy. ‘How very kind of you.’
‘No, indeed, Miss Holbrook,’ Sir Henry said with a smile of approval. ‘It is my pleasure and my privilege.’
Caroline gave him her hand, feeling a little spurt of excitement as he led her through to the ballroom. The black cloud that had hung over her dispersed as she was swept into the throng of dancers, and suddenly she was feeling wonderful.
The feeling continued after the dance ended, because she was besieged by gentlemen begging for the favour of a dance and her card was filled in no time at all. She laughed as she gazed up at her partners, for most of them were young and some were rather handsome.
The hours seemed to fly by with never a dull moment. She was the centre of a small group of ladies and gentlemen for the whole evening. It was not until the dance before supper that she was claimed by a gentleman she had rather liked when he asked for the privilege earlier.
‘George Bellingham,’ he told her, making his bow. ‘You were kind enough to grant me the pleasure of this dance, I believe?’
‘Yes, I remember,’ Caroline said, giving him a dazzling smile. ‘I have been looking forward to it, sir.’
‘Have you?’ Bellingham raised an eyebrow, a quizzing look in his eyes. ‘But you have danced with all the young bucks, Miss Holbrook. I fear I cannot compete with the likes of Brackley or Asbury.’
‘Indeed, I disagree, sir,’ Caroline said at once, forgetting her aunt’s strictures not to be too free in her speech. ‘I do not think you need fear either of them—they are young rattle-heads, are they not? Charming, of course, but interested only in horses and sport.’
‘But one the heir to an earldom, the other to his uncle the Marquis of Northbrooke.’ Bellingham’s mouth twitched, for she had described the pair of young bucks to perfection.
‘Oh, that!’ Caroline made a face at him. ‘As if I cared for such things. I think a gentleman of your mode might possibly take an interest in poetry and reading, as well as sport, of course. Do not think I have anything against such pursuits, for my brother Nicolas is a rare goer at many things and I have enjoyed fishing for trout with him.’ Her face sparkled up at him as she recalled her childhood adventures with pleasure.
‘Have you indeed?’ George was intrigued—she was not quite in the ordinary way. He recalled his wager with Freddie Rathbone and smiled inwardly. ‘You must tell me more…’ He was disappointed as the music ended. ‘Oh…it has seemed but a minute…’
‘Do you not think time always flies when one is enjoying oneself and drags when one is forced to do something utterly tedious?’
George disguised his laughter as a cough. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to have supper with him, but as soon as they left the floor, she was surrounded by four splendid young bucks dressed in the height of fashion, and all with the same question in mind.
‘Miss Holbrook, may I take you in?’
‘Ignore Brent, Miss Holbrook. I am sure you promised the privilege to me.’
‘Oh, Asbury, she damned well said nothing of the kind—she is promised to me,’ another gentleman claimed entirely falsely.
‘No, no, gentlemen,’ Caroline said and laughed, her eyes dancing with mischief. ‘I have promised no one, but I shall yield to the gentleman who can quote Richard Lovelace to me—accurately, mind.’ She looked at them expectantly.
There was stunned silence for a moment, their faces falling as they struggled to bring a word to mind; though most had subscribed to books of more modern authors, they were unable to remember the lines of the seventeenth-century poet.
‘Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
I’ll have freedom in my love,
And so in my soul am free;
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.’
‘Oh, well done, sir!’ Caroline clapped and turned as the deep voice finished his quotation. ‘That was excellent…’ Finding herself having to look up at the newcomer, she discovered that he was the most devastatingly handsome man she had yet met. His hair was the colour of a raven’s wing, almost blue-black where the light from the chandeliers touched it, his eyes very dark, just now mocking her, his mouth strangely enticing as it curved in a smile that made her heart jerk and then race on at frightening speed.
‘Good evening, Miss Holbrook,’ Freddie Rathbone said and offered her his arm, a glint in his eyes as a murmur of protest came from the other gentlemen when she took it. ‘The honour is mine, I think. Better luck next time—George, gentlemen.’ He inclined his head to them, his mannera nice blend of mockery and arrogance, as if he had claimed the prize by right.
Caroline laid her hand on his arm. She was laughing inside, though she did her best not to show it. ‘I do not believe we have been introduced, sir?’
‘Sir Frederick Rathbone at your service,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘I came late and was reliably informed that your card was full—young Asbury supplied the details. You must be aware that you have made a hit with that gentleman, and a few others, I dare say.’
‘They have been amazingly kind,’ Caroline said, a faint blush in her cheeks. She did not often blush, but there was something about this man’s gaze that made her a little uncomfortable. He seemed to demand her thoughts, and she was not sure that she wished to share them with him. There was something about him that seemed to challenge her. To accept that challenge might prove dangerous.
‘Come, now, no false modesty,’ Freddie said, his eyes seeming to dare her to respond in a way that was not at all fitting. ‘You must know that you are a sensation. I might almost say you are the belle of the evening, perhaps of the Season, though it is early days yet, I think.’
‘This is my first ball,’ Caroline said, her enthusiasm bubbling over. ‘I have been lucky enough not to sit down for one dance as yet, but I do not think I am the only lady to have been popular this evening.’
‘True enough, but people are talking about you. Everyone wishes to know where you came from—perhaps you were wafted here from some distant paradise? You are a siren come up from the depths of the sea to weave your spell over us poor mortals…’
‘You