Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I t was two days later, and Caroline was as confused now as she had been then. Perhaps even more so, as so much had changed in such a short amount of time. Still wondering what she needed to do, still knowing that she could not keep lying, for every day that passed only made things harder, and tonight promised to be a test like no other.

Her mind was fractured, but she needed to stay focused because for the first time in two whole years, since she had fled home and never looked back, she was being thrust into the public eye once more.

The Westchester Ball was the event in question, and Caroline was given no choice but to attend. Her fate, her secret identity, balanced itself on a knife's edge, and her nerves were slowly eating away at her so that she could hardly breathe.

"You look rather nervous," His Grace whispered in her ear as he came in beside her. Careful not to touch her, his hand stayed a mere inch from her waist.

"I am not," she said with little conviction. Nervous, yes. Terrified, certainly. Unable to concentrate when His Grace stood this close, when she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck… obviously.

"Good," His Grace said, flashing her a cheeky grin. "Because someone as beautiful as you are tonight has no right to be nervous. Unless the thought of being the most stunning woman in the room is not one that is to your liking."

She laughed awkwardly with a quick glance about them because she sensed that people were starting to notice her arrival. "Oh, I am hardly that."

His Grace continued to smile. "Look around, see how everyone stares. What other reason could it be, except jealousy and wonder."

"Wo - wonder?" she choked on the word, again looking about, indeed noticing the odd pair of eyes watching her. This had her heart racing, her chest turning red, that desire to turn and run mounting…

"Wondering who this angel is that has seen fit to grace them all with her presence," he crooned, walking beside her, bent over, so he could speak to her and her alone without anybody else hearing.

"Oh… stop it." Nerves mounting, she hoped His Grace mistook it for simple modesty.

"And I must say…" Gently, his hand rested on the small of her back, and she stiffened at his touch. That hand… the things she knew it could do were they alone. She felt herself begin to sweat for reasons that went beyond panic. "I have never seen you look so tasty. " He breathed the final word, letting it drip from his tongue and into her ear. She shook from it, wanted it.

"Is that so?"

"But you already knew that?—"

"Frederick!" Esther called suddenly. "Your Grace!" She stood just a few feet away, already among friends. "Will you come here a moment!"

His Grace sighed. "Will you be all right on your own?' he asked her.

"Somehow, I think I will manage."

Again, his hand traced her back lightly. "Do not go too far." He looked right at her; she felt her heart seize, for she thought he was about to kiss her… a most dangerous act. But then he winked and pulled away, stalking to where Esther stood waiting.

The group of lords whom she was with did not look too pleased at having to meet His Grace. In fact, they looked terrified! Caroline chuckled at the sight, knowing the reputation His Grace had while knowing it was far from reality.

Once she was certain he was busy, however, Caroline acted quickly. Head down, one hand covering the side of her face, she moved through the busy ballroom, heading for the corner where there was a small alcove. It was hidden and remote, a perfect spot to hide without it being obvious that she was doing so. With any luck, she might spend the rest of the night there and make it out of here in one piece.

Caroline had not wanted to attend the ball tonight, and if she had not wanted to draw attention or cause a fuss, she might have stayed home. Alas, Esther had insisted—demanded, more like—complaining nonstop that it was expected of them until His Grace eventually relented and agreed to go.

Funny that if this was three days ago, he might still have denied his grandmother, not caring one way or the other about what was expected. But his mood had soared these past two days such that it barely took any convincing at all. If anything, he seemed to look forward to it!

The irony was bitter to swallow, and Caroline could not escape the realization that she was the reason for this good mood, and thus she was the reason that he seen to her agreeing to come, and that she was thus the reason that she was here at all. Fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

Through the ballroom she moved, not daring to meet faces. It was a mass of colorfully dressed bodies only, swirling and dancing and moving to and fro, music playing, drinks flowing, laughter had by all. Hopefully, the cacophony of people packed into the small room would be enough that she would go unnoticed.

She made it to the alcove unmolested, ducked into it, pressed herself against the wall, and took a deep breath. Although this ball was smaller than those she had attended in her old life, it was still busy enough that there was bound to be somebody here from London who might recognize her. The hosts, Lord and Lady Westchester, were names that she recognized but did not know well which meant that her father likely knew of them which meant?—

Her chest began to grow tight. Her breathing became labored. Surely, her father would not be here? He hated balls. And without a daughter to parade about as he used to do, there was no reason for it. But what if…

Despite herself, Caroline found her head peeking out from around the alcove, glancing quickly, searching the mass of faces to make sure that indeed her father was nowhere in sight. If he was… that was not something she wished to?—

"Hiding from someone?" A voice spoke from right behind her.

"Oh!" Caroline just about had a heart attack as she spun about, clutching her chest, and then scowling to see Lord Fernside standing there, grinning stupidly. "Lord Fernside! What do you think you are doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

He shrugged. "I would not have to sneak if you were not hiding."

"I am not hiding," she said, keeping the scowl. She liked Lord Fernside enough, even if he was a tad childish. "I am simply…" She clicked her tongue as she considered.

"I will wait," he said with that same grin, "until you come up with an answer."

"Getting some space," she finally managed. "It is rather crowded here, and I am not a fan of crowds."

"Ah… of course." His eyes flashed, an indication that he did not believe her. "So, you're not hiding then, let's say, from someone whom you would very much rather avoid this night…" A raised eyebrow, and Caroline felt her heart race.

Did he know? Had he somehow figured it out? Surely not! For if he had, he would tell His Grace as they were best friends. Unless he wanted something? Unless he meant to blackmail her.

"From Frederick," he chuckled. "Or His Grace as I should call him. Never much got used to the title though, truth be told."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh—I mean, oh. Ye - yes. How did you know?"

"I am perceptive like that," he said simply. "Although I must say…" He stepped in closer to her. A big man, much like His Grace, his presence made the alcove feel suddenly cramped. "… it hurts me that the two of you are still not getting along."

"It does?" She glanced over her shoulder, not sure if she was looking for His Grace or making sure they were not seen.

"He is a good man, His Grace," Lord Fernside said with an honest cadence. "A little rough around the edges but a good man, nonetheless. The best of men, in fact."

"I know it."

"Do you, though?" he sighed. "Would you be hiding here if you did—and I know, it is none of my business," he then hurried. "And I assume that the two of you are still fighting over that little quarrel from last week." A roll of the eyes and another forlorn sigh. "But I ask that you see it in yourself to look past that singular transgression. I know Frederick… His Grace would appreciate it if you did."

Caroline frowned as she began to understand what this conversation, and this ambush, was about. Lord Fernside had sought her out to ask her… to beg, just about… to forgive His Grace and give him a chance. Likely, with romantic implications.

It was so out of the blue and unexpected that Caroline almost laughed. She managed to stifle that notion, however, and tried for a smile instead. "I appreciate what you are saying, and I know…" She tittered. "And I understand what you are saying."

"Consider it, please." A soft, pleading smile. "Tonight, for example, is a perfect opportunity to put the past where it belongs and move on. Wouldn't you say? To better tidings."

"I could not agree more."

Of course, Lord Fernside had no idea about what had happened. Nobody did.

Caroline and His Grace had decided to keep their actions a secret for now, the reasons for such being obvious. No need to get Esther excited. And no need to get Isabella's hopes up. Best to keep things subtle until… well, they had not gotten that far yet.

But just because they were keeping their secret hidden did not mean they were avoiding one another as before. In fact, the opposite was true. To those watching, it would appear that Caroline and His Grace had made amends and had agreed to a sort of truce, happy to be in the same room together, prepared to speak pleasantly to one another, even being friendly and damn jovial. Not romantic. Not suggestive. Simply, companionable.

However, once they were alone… as they had been several times these last few days… that was a different matter.

"Thank you," Lord Fernside said with some relief. "In fact, let us go find His Grace? A drink, perhaps? It seems like you might need a buffer, and I am willing to provide said buffer," he chuckled. "The least that I can do."

Caroline actually felt herself smiling, for despite her insistence on hiding, she did very much want to see His Grace again. Why, the way they flirted secretly, teasing and testing the limits of what they could do, was half the fun, and she loved how His Grace took liberties with her once they were alone—the things he would make her say and do! Oh, how she relished it.

She cast her gaze back into the room in search… only to catch a quick glimpse of a face that made her stomach sink, her face pale, and the walls of the room seem to close in around her.

It could not be.

Surely, she was imagining it—seeing things!

She searched again, desperate to prove herself wrong. Eyes scanning from face to face, panic mounting, heart threatening to leap out of her throat. No! There was no way!

"Miss Dowding…" Lord Fernside touched her gently on the shoulder. "Is everything all right."

"Fre - fresh air," she stammered, stumbling forward. "I need fresh air."

"I will join you?—"

"No!" she cried, fixing Lord Fernside with an apologetic look. "I mean, perhaps if you find His Grace and let him know I will be there shortly? I just… I need a moment alone." A forced smile and a fluttering of her eyelashes.

"All right… I will?—"

She did not hear what he said, turning and stumbling from the room in search of the balcony, her mind racing as she tried to convince herself that she had just been seeing things. She must have been. There was no way he would be here. But the more she considered, the more she was forced to admit that among the crowd, meeting her eyes and seeing her as had been her fear now for two years, was her father.