Page 70 of The Hired Hero
There was no longer any reason to go on deluding himself throughout the long, lonely evenings with only the bottle for company that he preferred it that way. At least he could now be honest with himself about that. He missed her more than he could ever have imagined. Life seemed sadly flat without the dimension she brought to his existence. But there was little use in pining over what could never be.
All he could hope for now was that his recent behavior had ensured that Lady Caroline Alexandra Georgina Talcott, heiress and daughter of one of the most powerful men in the country, would not want to even acknowledge the presence of the ill-tempered, penniless earl who had treated her so badly.
Even now, he had to wince at the memory of his cold words, her wounded expression. Surely, she would stay well away from him. And, surely, he could keep up the charade of not caring for one more evening.
But it was going to be a very long evening.
* * *
The grand ballroomwas awash in the flickering light of countless candles. The soft fragrance of tuber roses wafted through the trill of laughter, the buzz of conversation and the lilting notes of a violin as the musicians began the first notes of the opening dance. It was quite a crush, as one turbaned matron had remarked to another over their glasses of ratafia punch. Nobody wanted to miss the opportunity to meet the gifted young artist whose praises were being trumpeted throughout town.
It did not do the young man’s reputation any harm that a vague hint of intrigue concerning certain affairs of state had attached itself to his name. Half the young ladies of thetonhad abandoned their allegiance to a certain poet and proclaimed their fascination with the even more romantic young painter.
Caroline had to repress a smile at the sight of yet another gentleman seeking to introduce his giddy sister to Jeremy Leighton. After the requisite small talk, her friend managed to extricate himself from the crowd and take a brief respite in leading her out for a waltz.
“As you see, you had little cause for worry,” she murmured as the melody began in earnest.
Jeremy’s expression appeared glazed, but at least he managed the steps of the dance without a major mishap. “I cannot fathom…” he began.
Caroline laughed out loud. “Don’t try. Why not just enjoy the moment? We all know how quickly things can change.”
He shook his head. “I hardly feel comfortable here. I wish I were back in my studio…”
“You soon will be, though I imagine you’ll be able to work in a good deal more comfort than before. No doubt you will be having to turn away commissions from now on.”
His eyes still roamed the room. “You know, my parents are here. They have become reconciled to the notion that their son is a painter and not an officer of the Royal Navy. I have you to thank for making this dream of mine come true.” His one good hand tightened on hers. “I wish I could help make a dream come true for you.”
Her lips trembled imperceptibly. “Why, Jeremy, how kind of you, but I have no need for dreams.”
His brows drew together slightly.
“I believe you are engaged for the next set with Miss Allston,” said Caroline as the music came to an end and they moved off the dance floor. A petite blonde dressed in an expensive gown of figured white silk embroidered with cornflowers was staring with a rapt mooncalf expression at the young artist.
Jeremy blanched. “Lud,” he muttered under his breath and darted a pleading look at his companion.
Caroline checked the urge to laugh out loud as she left him to his fate. Ducking a bevy of her own admirers, she pleaded the need to absent herself in order to check with her father’s major domo that everything was running smoothly. Yet as she neared the door to the card room, she paused for a moment, half-hidden by an arrangement of potted palms. Her eyes scanned the vast ballroom, searching carefully among the shimmering silks, glittering jewels and impeccably tailored evening coats. She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until it came out in a sigh of disappointment.
He wasn’t here.
She had caught a glimpse of Davenport earlier, at the opening of Jeremy’s exhibition, but their paths hadn’t crossed. It was almost as if he were avoiding having to exchange even the simplest of greetings with her.
To her chagrin, Caroline felt the sting of tears. Jeremy might have possessed an artist’s rare gift of being able to quickly discern the true emotions of a person, but in the case of a certain individual, his observations were way off the mark. The earl might unhappy, but it had little to do with her—or at least, not in the way Jeremy imagined. Clearly, Davenport had no wish to further their…
Their what?
Did she dare call it friendship? Whatever it was, it was something so special to her that she missed it with an ache infinitely worse than all the physical punishment she had endured.
But this was neither the time nor the place to brood on such thoughts. Mustering all of her considerable will, she pasted a smile back on her face and turned for the corridor. A short stroll to check on the quantity of champagne was an excellent idea. Perhaps she would even help herself to a glass in hopes of adding some effervescence to her flat spirits.
It was only out of the corner of her eye that she suddenly caught Davenport’s intense gaze. He, too, was alone, his dark coat and pantaloons allowing him to blend into the shadows cast by the swaying trees. He had been observing her, and for just a fleeting moment, she saw the look in his eyes before his face once again took on a familiar scowl and he turned away.
Her heart caught in her throat.Was it possible?
But Caroline had no time to think, for in the next instant, a hand reached out for hers. She scarcely heard Lord Appleby remind her that the pleasure of the next country set was his. The steps seemed to go on interminably, and it seemed like an age before the final note was struck.
Thankfully, a waltz was next—a waltz promised to Lucien. As her cousin approached, she took his arm and quickly led him away from the dance floor.
“You must release me from this dance,” she said in a low voice. “I must tend to a pressing matter with one of our guests.”
