Page 13 of An Icy Christmas Engagement
Thatwasn’t what Caroline was worried about.
Her old life had been unfulfilling. Long, seemingly endless days of her hiding who she truly was, trapped in an arranged marriage with an older gentleman whom she could barely conjure up a friendship with. The thought of ever going back to that, of losing who she was in another loveless union, made it feel as if her chest was caving in.
Elizabeth kept going, clearly taking Caroline’s silence as agreement to this plan. Caroline stared at her mouth as she talked, remembering how tiresome her days had once been as a married woman. This blissful taste of freedom she had as a widower wasn’t something she was willing to give up just yet. If she was going to remarry, Caroline would only do it for love.
Suddenly, the Earl of Colenhurst popped into her mind. She remembered the sensation of being pressed against his chest, albeit for the purpose of saving her from potential disgrace and harm. Her heart had raced, skipping several beats as a rush of warmth flooded her cheeks. For a brief moment, she found herself captivated by his presence, her gaze lingering on his undeniably handsome features, searching for any flaw but discovering none. If ever she were to fall in love, it would surely be with a man of such remarkable gallantry—a man who could make her feel like the most beautiful and cherished lady in all of England.
But that wasn’t likely. So the only thing she truly wanted was to live out the rest of her life with her best friend and her quill. She had to tell her mother she couldn’t remarry. Caroline braced herself, gathering the strength, knowing the battle she would have on her hands the moment she voiced her concerns.
In the end, she simply sat in silence.
***
Mr. Ambrose Sinclair surely knew how to display his wealth. He’d managed to secure a good spot on the outskirts of Piccadillyand his townhouse was draped in gold. Gold gates, a giant gold door-knocker, the gold outlines on the bay windows. Cedric hated the sight of it.
It was too gaudy, too showy. Obviously Mr. Sinclair wanted everyone passing by to know that he was not only rich enough to secure a spot in one of the most prestigious communities in London but had the ability to show off his flashy decorations.
Or perhaps Cedric was only viewing the house with such disdain simply because he didn’t want to be present. The dinner party he had been dreading all day was set to begin shortly and here he was considering turning around even though he’d already arrived. Manners be hanged, he had no desire to pass the evening in the company of Mr. Sinclair and his daughter.
But he would only be returning to his own house, where his ledgers still sat in his office, taunting him. He’d made some headway in sorting through the mess, but that fixing his ledgers wouldn’t help him get to the bottom of who was behind it in the first place.
He needed to know what Mr. Sinclair knew. That was his reason for being here. Cedric wouldn’t let himself forget that.
With a sigh, he trudged up to the front door and knocked. He waited for a few seconds and was very close to turning around when the door opened, revealing a tired-looking butler. He was admitted into a large foyer with shining gold and white floors and massive chandelier hanging overhead.
“Right this way, my lord,” the butler said to him before veering off to the left. “The party has already begun.”
Cedric sighed and followed. He was happy he chose to arrive a little later than the invitation said. Hopefully, he would not be noticed when he entered.
That hope flew right out the door when he was admitted into the opulent dining room. It was certainly under full swing. Chatter buzzed around the room and it seemed the main course had already been served. Despite the hubbub, a portly man who had been sitting at the head of the table shot to his feet.
“Lord Colenhurst!”
Cedric schooled his expression into a passive one, since he couldn’t quite manage a false smile. He watched as Mr. Sinclair ambled over to him.
“Here I thought you would not be able to make it, despite having accepted the invitation,” Mr. Sinclair said as he approached. There was a light sheen of sweat on his bald spot, the rest of his dark, wiry hair combed towards his neck. He had tiny eyes, a thin mouth, and a pointy nose. An unfortunate combination.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Cedric responded. “Though I should apologise for my lateness. It was unavoidable.”
He’d been sitting in his study with a glass of whiskey for a while before he finally decided to leave his house, but his host did not need to know that.
Mr. Sinclair accepted his apology with a nod. “Thankfully, we did not save your seat in vain. Come, sit up here, next to my daughter.”
Cedric had no choice but to follow Mr. Sinclair to the head of the table. He murmured his greetings to the others nearby as he sat, feeling a pair of eyes boring into him.
“Lord Colenhurst,” Mr. Sinclair said gaily as he reclaimed his seat. “Meet my daughter, Miss Alice Sinclair.”
Cedric looked at her at last. She was stunning, there was no doubt about that. Beautifully styled brown hair, lovely blue eyes, and a polite and demure smile on her lips. She bowed her head respectfully and said, “It is my pleasure to meet you, my lord. Father has told me much about you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Alice,” Cedric responded respectfully and left it at that. He had no intention of entertaining anything else.
She was lovely, yes. Lovely indeed. But, considering the fact that Cedric had met someone far lovelier this afternoon, he couldn’t help but compare them. The mysterious lady he’d saved during his walk hadn’t smiled at him once and somehow, he imagined she possessed one of those smiles that lit up an entire room. He’d thought about her all day, which made working through his ledgers a far more difficult task than it already was. But every time he set his pen to paper, working out another calculation, he thought of the way she stared at him as if she wastrying to commit every detail to memory. He’d found it fascinating then and was a little surprised at the fact that he still could not stop thinking about it—and her—even now.
“As I said, my lord,” Miss Alice spoke again. “I have heard much about you.”
Cedric began eating. If he was going to put himself through this, he might as well fill his stomach.
“Is that so:?” He drawled.
