Page 11 of Awakening a Lord's Desires
Of course, she and her father had an open, teasing, unique relationship. But other than that, all her conversations with men had been very stoic, feeling more as though she was being questioned rather than really listened to. And she knew all the men who had interacted with her over the Season had been interested to hear her answers only in one way.
They wanted her to be a perfectly well-behaved young woman, with all the proper and decent accomplishments befitting a young woman of means. But with Lord Spencer, it seemed he almost took great amusement in the fact that she did not claim any of those typical activities.
“He is Lord Charles Spencer. His father is the Marquess of Queensberry. Surely you heard him introduce himself.”
Matilda was looking around her, obviously at Lord Spencer, wherever he might be in the room. Caroline did not look around. She did not want him to notice the way he made her heart skip or that she felt completely strange inside whenever he was near. It was not the sort of thing a gentleman ought to know about a woman.
“Yes, yes, I heard him,” Matilda said with a smile, returning her eyes to Caroline. “He’s very handsome. You seemed to be enjoying yourself wholeheartedly while you danced.”
“Oh, were you watching me?” Caroline asked. “Come, let us get some refreshment. I was not able to finish my champagne before someone asked me to dance.”
Arm in arm, they walked to collect a pair of glasses of lemonade.
“Of course I was watching you,” Matilda said. “Everyone in the room was watching you. It was hard not to notice when there are only about fifteen or twenty people here this evening, and the two gentlemen were strangers to the room.”
Caroline dreaded to know what Penelope thought of the whole situation, for surely she had watched her with a hawk’s eyes the entire time. And she would surely have comments later that night.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said with a shaky breath. “Well, he was very interesting, and it was nice to speak to a gentleman one does not know. We’ll have a few months out here in the country, and we all know each other so very well. What does this mean? You did not dance with Alexander?”
The lightest bit of colour touched Matilda’s cheeks, but she did not look at Caroline, instead perusing the room over her lemonade glass. “We did eventually. But first, we apparently had to finish our debate.”
“You two are endlessly debating. What was it this time?” She wished that in one of their debates they would discuss about how much they loved each other and when they wished to get married.
“About which romantic poet’s writing is the most beautiful. He says Byron, and I say Wordsworth to the end.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. She smiled as well. “I suppose you both could just agree to disagree, for both poets have their merits. Of course, it would be hard to decide who was the best overall. Poetry is rather a relative taste.”
“I quite agree, Caroline,” Alexander said, making them both jump as he approached them.
“Oh, you do,” Matilda said, turning on him, her hands on her hips. “And yet earlier you were vociferously debating me, claiming that Byron was ultimately the best, and that it was easy to see in all his poetry.”
When Caroline could see that she would not get another word in edgewise between the two, she backed away with a smile and her lemonade glass.
The rest of the evening was uneventful. She spied on Lord Spencer out of the corner of her eye. He danced with a few other young ladies, but most of the time he was in conversation with various guests. She knew everyone would be excited to meet him since he was a stranger in the countryside. And everyone would be eager to have him for a visit, especially since he was an earl and his father a marquess.
Eventually, when it got late enough, her father collected her, and all three of them left the ball. Caroline, tired as she was, was not eager to hear Penelope’s assessment of the evening, although she hoped she would be full of other gossip instead of reprimands.
“Well, the two new young gentlemen caused quite a stir,” Penelope said, folding her gloved hands in her lap as the carriage began to roll away from the house.
Caroline could feel her cheeks heating again, and she stared out of the window into the darkness. It was always so entirely dark in the countryside. When the moon was full, it was bright, and the stars were certainly also bright. But without the lamps and torches of London, the darkness was heavy, almost like one could feel it. She had always rather liked that about their time in Kent, while others might find it a bit too frightful.
I suppose that is why a Gothic romance always takes place in country estates rather than in the busy, vibrant centre of London.
“Well,” her father said, pulling her attention away from the window, “what do you have to say for yourself, Caroline?”
The torchlight was rather dim in the carriage, but she could see the slight smile on her father’s face, and she could hear it in his tone. He was amused.
“What do you mean, Father?” she asked. “I’m afraid I am so tired that I’ve let my mind wander.”
He chuckled. “I’m certain you have much to think about. But I see you were dancing with the new gentleman, Lord Charles Spencer. I believe it was his first dance as well.”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” she replied, trying her best to keep her confidence.
“Everyone will be asking you what he is like over the next few days,” her father teased. “You will be the talk of the town.”
“Hardly,” she replied with a breathy laugh, turning to look out of the window again.
But before she did, she noticed Penelope looking at her oddly, and the dread weighed heavily in her belly.
