Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T he short carriage ride to the evening event might have been more uncomfortable than the carriage ride from the church to Harewood Court, which felt like a lifetime ago. Max had not responded to Caroline's remark about an annulment, but she did not trust the silence. Indeed, she thought she could hear the cogs turning in his mind, considering her suggestion.

Why should I care if he does think about it? Would that not be the ideal solution to this farce of a marriage?

Her thoughts were bitter, but her insides were in a different, more nuanced sort of turmoil, ricocheting back and forth between what the old Caroline had wanted and what the married Caroline wanted.

For one thing, she had begun to believe that their marriage was not a farce, seeking out his companionship at any opportunity, seeing him in a new light with every new morning, discovering that his handsomeness was not the only charming thing about him. The past few weeks had been some of the most relaxed and happy of her entire life, and it was not merely because of the cat.

But he does not want me. He is trying to foist me off on some other man. He cannot wait for the two months to be over.

It was her debut night all over again. She had started the evening as giddy as could be, looking forward to what was to come, excited to be stepping out into society in her new position in a gown she had been waiting to wear, and then Max had ruined it in a single conversation.

Worst of all, for just a second, she had been so certain that he was going to confess to her. Not love, necessarily, but a declaration of some affection at least. And she, in her apparent naivety, had willed it, had wanted it, would have welcomed it, in that fleeting madness of her romantic mind.

If the first gown I see tonight is… green, then he will request the annulment. She held onto that thought with some trepidation as the carriage came to a standstill outside a grand townhouse, far larger than either Daniel's or Max's. It was positively palatial, a snaking line of carriages moving slowly as they let out their passengers.

"Anna had to intervene on this gentleman's behalf?" Caroline gasped, not meaning to speak out loud.

Max mustered a hollow chuckle. "Albert is not what one would call socially adept. A pleasant fellow, but when he came within fifty paces of a lady, he would freeze, turn alarmingly red, and all of his intellect would abandon him, turning him into a babbling fool at best, a mute at worst." He gestured up at the townhouse. "He had a lucky inheritance, too. Elevated from a reverend's son to the title of Viscount, as he was the last male heir with any claim to it."

"And the lady Anna found for him?" Caroline saw no reason not to keep the conversation going, for it was easy territory for the pair.

"A governess. She worked for a family in his father's parish and was just about the only woman he had ever spoken to without tripping over his tongue," Max replied. "He enlisted Anna's help, he told her that he had loved the governess for many years, but she had gone elsewhere to join a different family, and Anna did the rest. As it turned out, the governess loved him too."

Caroline smiled wryly. "Before or after she found out he was a Viscount with a London residence twice as large as a duke's?"

"She did not know he was a Viscount. Anna and Albert constructed a ruse, arranging several meetings before Albert proposed, where he made no mention of his new fortune and title," Max explained. "She thought she was marrying the reverend's son she had adored for years, so it came as quite a surprise when he revealed the truth at the wedding. That she had also been elevated, from a simple governess to the Viscountess of Mowbury."

"I find that hard to believe," Caroline murmured, as the carriage eked along to the porch steps of the townhouse.

"I thought you were a great champion of love emerging from all situations and circumstances," he replied, his voice neither teasing nor serious, but somewhere in between.

Caroline leveled a stern gaze at him. "I was."

"Well, it is the truth. They are known to be one of the most nauseatingly besotted couples in the ton . Unusual, and not to everyone's tastes because of how they attained their positions, but at least they have one another to weather any gossip and their unwavering love to withstand anything that may come." Max shrugged and sat back, humming to himself.

"And I thought you did not believe in love," Caroline pointed out, still embarrassed that she had thought she might get a confession from him.

She should have known better than to let herself be wooed by soft eyes, a caressing touch, the flit of his gaze to her lips, and a closeness that she had inflicted on him . Indeed, she should have known better than to think that he was actually hers when he mentioned at least once every few days that he was still endeavoring to find a residence for her sole use.

He looked at her then, with something akin to regret in his eyes. "When it is undeniable, I cannot deny its occasional existence. It is there between Percival and my sister. It is there between your brother and his wife. It is there between the ladies of the Spinsters' Club and all their husbands. That is why I call them witches; to have so many exceptions cannot be coincidence."

"So, it must be sorcery?" Caroline scoffed. "You are ridiculous. Love is rare in many ways, but common in many others. Why, you are like someone who does not believe lightning exists because they, themselves, have never been struck by it."

He did not laugh but kept staring at her until a footman appeared at the carriage door and prevented her from ever knowing what he might have said to that.

"Shall we?" he said instead, offering his hand to help her out.

She accepted, steeling herself for the evening to come. Indeed, there was one small mercy in the awkwardness of their journey over; she had not thought about what gossip she might be forced to hear, what scorn she might face, what unkind remarks might be tossed in her direction.

They headed up the porch steps and through a set of white double doors, Max passing his invitation to the footmen at the entrance before they were allowed to step into the marvelous foyer of the Viscount Mowbury's residence.

But before Caroline could pay any attention to the exquisite crown molding and ceiling roses above or the three-tiered chandelier or the unusual but very appealing light oak wainscoting or the gorgeous tiling on the floor, she looked for the color of the first gown to greet her eyes.

The trouble was, there was no single gown that she saw first. A trio and a cluster of ladies stood by the staircase and by the windows respectively, but Caroline noted them all at once, as well as the color of their gowns: pinks, yellows, blues, purples, and two shades of green among them.

What does that mean?

Her stomach roiled with nerves, for if Max truly did petition for an annulment, her reputation would be at risk of ruination yet again. He would have to take the blame and make it known in society that the blame was his, but glancing at him, Caroline's heart sank. After all he had done for her, it would be a final insult to his generosity.

"Is that Lady Caroline?" the woman in a lighter shade of green whispered to her friend in the darker green. A bitter irony.

The lady in darker green turned up her nose. "Quite wretched of her to show her face, I should say. Have they no shame?"

"It is hardly that surprising. Did her brother not begin courting one woman, only to end up marrying her older sister?" a woman in blue interjected.

A lady in pink nodded. " This is why one must never associate with any sort of group that champions spinsterhood, particularly one who takes patronage from the Silver Widow. It is improper, and can only lead to?—"

"Marrying extremely well?" a young woman in yellow chimed in with a chuckle. "And I did not see any of you denigrating the Spinsters' Club when you were desperately writing your letters to the Matchmaker, nor praying for an invitation to the Countess of Grayling's summer extravaganza."

Caroline caught the woman in yellow's eye and dipped her head in a nod of thanks. The woman nodded back, flashing a wink.

"That was different!" the lady in jade green protested. " They have not caused a scandal."

"Neither have they," the woman in yellow continued to defend. "They fell in love, they courted in secret, they married—where is the crime in that?"

The lady's friends had nothing to say to that, their loud whispers fading into under-the-breath mutterings.

"You are making new friends already," Max whispered, covering her hand with his where it rested on the crook of his elbow. "I told you; you have nothing to worry about."

Caroline peered up at him, forgetting that she was angry with him, forgetting that she had ever mentioned an annulment. "It feels… good to be back among society, but I do miss Harewood Court. I miss the apple tree; I miss the rose gardens; I miss the sun room; I miss the afternoon walks. I miss Powder Puff, though she is sulking in my bedchamber as we speak."

"Sulking? Wherever did she learn such a thing?"

Caroline rolled her eyes at him, hiding her amusement. "Did I tell you that she was quite adamant that I would not be leaving her tonight? She kept chasing my skirts all around the bedchamber, trying to claw at them. If it had not been for Lila, I am certain she would have shredded them to ribbons."

"Rather, I think she would have liked to come along," Max said playfully. "We could have purchased a little gown for her, put a tiara between her ears, and some silk gloves for her forelegs. She would have been the belle of the ball, and no mistake."

Caroline laughed brightly, imagining such a thing. "I could have set her upon anyone who said something unkind. They would not have gossiped again."

"If anyone could be such a persuasive warrior for your honor, it would be her."

Caroline gave his arm a light squeeze, shocked as ever by the prominent muscle that bulged beneath his tailcoat sleeve. "You are not doing too badly, despite how I might behave sometimes."

"That might be the nicest thing you have ever said to me," he replied, smiling. "We ought to find drinks so that we may toast to this momentous occasion, in case it never happens again."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "I shall set Powder Puff on you if you say such a thing again."

"And she would nuzzle against my neck and infuriate you twice as much," he said with a pleased look on his face.

She could not deny that he was right. Powder Puff adored him and had never so much as hissed at him. But she was not thinking about the beloved cat; she was thinking about his words, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle into his neck, losing herself in his unique perfume of woodsmoke, soap, and sandalwood.

How would it feel to have his arms around her, not as a gesture of thanks or comfort, but because he wanted to hold her the way a man held a woman? And what if he drew back slightly, his gaze flitting from her eyes to her lips as he had done in the carriage—only, this time, he would kiss her?

What is the matter with me?

She was supposed to be distancing herself, looking toward their separation, not imagining what it would be like to be closer to him.

Clearly, Harewood Court had done more to addle her mind than she thought.

"Are you sure you are not still unwell from the journey?" Max asked, touching the back of his hand to her cheek. "You look… rosy."

Caroline blinked. "I am quite well, though I would very much like those refreshments you mentioned. My throat is rather dry."

"Of course." He lowered his hand from her cheek. "Caroline, I feel like I keep upsetting you. You should know that it is not my intention. I really do want to ensure your happiness."

She missed his touch the moment it was gone. "I know. It is the stress of the evening, that is all." She mustered a smile. "Let us forget we ever quarreled."

"That would be a gracious relief." Gently, he rested his hand on the small of her back, and with a light push, he guided her through the crowd of guests.

It was not at all the proper way for a gentleman to behave, particularly one who was trying to fend off a scandal that did not exist, but Caroline would not have chided him for anything. She felt oddly safe with his hand there, as if he was her support, keeping her chin up and her shoulders back, to face whatever whispers might come.

And the whispers did, as the couple entered the ballroom of the grand townhouse with their drinks in hand.

Indeed, of the hundred or so guests in attendance, it felt to Caroline as if every last one had just halted their conversation and turned to stare.

"Set your drink down," Max said, his voice low as he leaned in close to her ear. "Look at me. Look only at me, and do not hesitate."

Her eyes widened as she obeyed. "Do not hesitate to do what?"

"This," he murmured, as he took her by the hand and led her straight to the dance floor.