The Best Man's Bridesmaid (3 page)

Sophia Gibson regarded her nephew with more knowledge than he appreciated, and he mentally squirmed under her piercing look. “Of course, my dear, I’ll get some Madeira and cake, shall I?”

“That would be lovely,” Caroline said with what he could only describe as a charming smile. “I am now resigned to drinking the awful stuff,” she whispered to him and rolled her eyes.

“Actually, Aunt, it brings her out in a rash.” Charlie winked at Caroline, making sure his aunt didn’t see him do so. “Better give her a whiskey. Shall I pour one for you as well?” For his aunt was also partial to a dram.

“What a good idea, Charlie. Now although I will deny it, I’m taking mine with me to my room,” his aunt said with a wicked grin and a salacious wink. “I was about to dress for dinner. I’m going to Marion Rushworth’s for cards tonight.” With a wink at Caroline, she left the room.

“Your aunt,” said Caroline with appreciation, “is in a class of her own. A one off.”

Charlie nodded. “She may have left us alone—though will deny it—but wouldn’t condone what I’d like to do with you at the moment. Or,” he said mendaciously, “I don’t think she would. With Aunt Sophia, one never knows.”

Caroline peered at him from under her lashes as she sipped a very fine whiskey. “I hesitate to ask what that it is you wish to do, but I suggest you stop and think, my lord. Would I condone it?”

“Well, you’d bloody well enjoy it,” he reposted. “And, by Gad, so would I!”

“Mmm, what exciting thoughts that brings to mind. I shall definitely look forward to later. When later, remains to be seen.” She put down her empty glass. “Now, my lord, before you, er, spoil those oh-so-elegant pantaloons in any of several ways or I spill out of this rather form fitting bodice, I suggest you call for the carriage to take me home.” She gave a pointed look at Charlie’s once again rock-hard erection, which pushed against the fabric of his pantaloons, and then at her swollen breasts, threatening to spill over the top of her dress.

As there was no chance of relieving any of the pressures on them, he agreed.

***

As she entered her parents’ London town house the following evening, Caroline was prepared for an inquisition. The previous night, with the help of her parents’ major domo, a stanch supporter of hers, she had managed to evade them. With the servants help, she did not leave her bedchamber that morning until she knew each parent had departed the house. A picnic ride to Richmond had kept her busy all afternoon, and for a few hours she had forgotten her predicament to enjoy the company of the few true friends she had in the capital. At last, she conceded she had no option but to return to the house to prepare for the evening’s activities, and she braced herself for an inquisition. To her surprise, her parents were absent. “The countess is at Lady Croker’s, my lady, and your father at White’s. They hope you had a good day. Do you have any engagements this evening?” Her maid knew the answer as well as Caroline but observed the proprieties and helped her out of her gown and into a dressing wrap.

“Primmy, you have been with me since forever,” Caroline retorted truthfully but ungrammatically. “You know as well as I do my social calendar. So, I am thankful, I have no engagement tonight, but I do need to slip out later. And it won’t be as easy here as at Chattels, so I will need your help.”

“I thought you’d given up all that stuff since Lady Amanda became betrothed?” her maid said as she shook out Caroline’s gown before she put it over a chair to be tidied away later. She pursed her lips. “And now she is married, she’ll be too busy for any such nonsense, I’ll be bound. Surely you’re not carrying on that lark without her?”

Caroline smiled and shook her head. “No, this is something else, but it needs to be done. Please, Primmy?”

The older woman snorted.

“You’ll be the death of me, young lady, how much longer do we need to keep up all this pretense? You’ll be exposed sooner or later, and then where will we be, eh?”

Caroline giggled at her choice of words.

Primmy shook her head. “You know what I mean. Is it all worth it?”

Caroline sighed. The last few months had been very dull. “It was, and it is. Alas, it is now to all intents and purposes over, as well you know. We have so much perhaps to look forward to, but this is something else to be done.” Primmy’s scandalized look made her want to giggle again. Her maid was loyal, loving, and well able to curb any excesses Caroline may feel like exploring. “No, not that. Nothing too underhanded. I need to meet Charlie.”

“Your fiancé? Why? Weren’t you with him all day?”

“And a hundred others,” Caroline said in a voice she knew showed her frustration. “He is not at all as I remember him. Not in looks or personality. I need to understand more.” She forebode to mention the other times she had been aware of him, when there had not been a hundred others in close proximity and aware of every nuance, every word that passed between a couple. “I need to see him alone, and”—she grimaced and shrugged, her frustration uppermost—”I am now independent of my parents. Well provided for with my own home, my own fortune, albeit nowhere near as large as his. Therefore, I do not need to marry if I do not so desire. Primmy, I am three-and-twenty, an old maid almost. I missed my first two seasons, due to Eugenia not taking and then Grandmamma passing on. I had one season, during which I was told I would marry Charlie, and then…well, you know.”

Primmy nodded. Caroline smiled. Primmy had been the recipient of many a bout of confidence and doubt.

“So,” Caroline continued, as she was propelled into a chair and her hair brushed with long soothing strokes, “I declare, Primmy, I am not going to be coerced into something abhorrent to me.” Not that she thought marriage to Charlie
would
be abhorrent, but she needed time and encouragement to find out.

“Well, be careful, missy. You know it’s what both yours and his parents want. Think on, you don’t want to be alone for ever, now do you?” The caress of the brush as it moved with gentle precision through her locks was reassuring and familiar. Caroline gave into the almost sensual feelings the brush strokes evoked and considered Primmy’s words.

“Yes, if it is the only option. Might it not be better to be alone, but happy and unafraid, not having to sacrifice my inner self for a man? I think so. What would you say to me?”

Primmy shook her head.

“I’m sure you’ll do exactly as you please, and I swear you’ll be the death of me. What your parents would ever do if they find out just what you’ve been up to this last while I shudder to think. To either of us. Turn me off without a penny or references, I have no doubt. We’ll just have to hope they don’t.” She sniffed. “All right. I’ll help as usual.”

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

Charlie wasn’t sure how he felt. True, he knew he was aroused and interested, and why. However, apart from confused, his other emotions were indefinable. How had a shy, quiet, and yes, retiring young lady, who previously had difficulty looking him in the eye, never ventured an opinion of her own, and did not speak unless spoken to become a vibrant, glowing, sensual woman? One who was outgoing, outspoken, and he admitted with an inward grin, darn right outré? As he dismissed his valet and tried without much success to calm his jittery nerves, he wondered how much of it was for show and how much was true knowledge. He admitted to himself that although he had enjoyed their repartee, he wanted her not to
know
certain things—and he wasn’t really sure just what he meant by ‘things’—but to
want
to know them. And he was going to be the one to give her that knowledge. It was not good enough to be able to impart everything he desired in a wife and partner. To his mind, Caroline had to thirst for knowledge. He had to be the one to provide the where with all for her to imbibe it.

As he poured a glass of brandy, he stood in front of the window and idly watched a few carriages wend their way around the square. Somehow he didn’t think Caroline would herald her arrival in such an obvious manner.

He sipped the spirit and enjoyed the fiery taste as it slipped down his throat. The hints of apples and spice had a smoothness that never ceased to amaze him. He frowned as he tried to remember a comment Caroline had made earlier. What was it? Ah, yes, something about him being the only one there would be—or had been—for her. Had been? What the deuce did she mean by that? Well, at eleven o’clock he’d be sure to find that out. It was only one thing among many he had a need to discover. Like were her breasts as luscious as he imagined? How would they feel when he took them in his hands? What enticing noises would she make as he suckled each delectable nipple in turn? How would she react when he began to stroke those downy curls that showed the way into her warm honeypot? Even more, what irresistible moans and sighs would she give as his fingers delved farther? He groaned. Yet again, his staff had stiffened and was rock hard. There was nothing for it, he couldn’t stay in this state for the next few hours, or he would spill his seed like a randy schoolboy the minute he touched her. Resigned, Charlie walked with a stiff gait into his dressing room and took matters in hand.

Later, he wondered once more just how she was to ensure she arrived at his home unseen. Or even manage to leave her parents’ house. Ah well, he would find out soon enough. Meanwhile, he arranged for champagne to be available with ease, told his valet not to wait up, and made sure the fires in the drawing room, his private sitting room, and his bedchamber were lit. Charlie intended to leave nothing to chance. By twenty minutes to the hour, he was pacing the drawing room. In deference to the fact she was a lady, he was almost fully dressed, all he had removed was his form-fitting coat, and discarded his cravat. Then, after careful considerations, he had used the jack to remove his boots. It had pained him to use it. His valet’s distress would be equal to his ire when he saw the scuff marks the jack has created. For not the first time he wondered why Stebbins opinion mattered more than his father’s? Perhaps, because he had a more honest relationship with Stebbins than he did with his parent? His valet certainly understood him better. Charlie looked once more at the clock; to his dismay a mere two more minutes had passed his last perusal. Idly he wondered whether to go into the games room and pot a few balls. The pictures conjured up by the words
games
and
balls
made him decide that wasn’t a good idea. Instead, he resumed his pacing as the grandfather clock in the hall struck the quarter hour. He hoped she wouldn’t be late.

For heaven’s sake, she has minutes still before she is tardy. Control your enthusiasm.

A tapping on the French window made him jump. He turned on his heel and strode briskly to it, to draw back the curtain. A figure in a black cloak, the hood drawn well over the face, stood there. Caroline? He hoped so.

In the back of his mind was a vague memory of another lady, dressed in a similar fashion. It teased at his memory as he unlatched the window and opened it wide to let her enter. As she removed the cloak, any thoughts he had been harboring immediately left him. All he could do was gape at the vision in front of him.

“Maybe you should,” she remarked as she gestured to the open window. He hurried to close it and the heavy drapes before he turned to rest his hands on her shoulders and take her cloak from her. And once more stared!

***

Caroline was well satisfied with his reaction. She had put considerable thought into what to wear, and it seemed her considerations had paid off. Her dress, simple in its design was of the palest pink, drawing out the russet highlights of her hair. That shone and shimmered in the firelight and as was her usual preference, lay loose and waving to her waist. The front was covered in a fine, skin-colored net, cleverly designed so that at first glance it was difficult to ascertain which was dress and which was skin. Her sole item of jewelry was a long strand of pearls, which reached past her waist and rested at the top of her legs, drawing his eyes downward. As she moved, the cut and color of her gown made it seem she was hardly dressed at all, although on a second look, her attire was decorous in the extreme.

“Clever,” Charlie admired. “You hint, you tease, you entice in that garment. You make me itch to see what is under it.”

“That, my lord, is its intention.” she said with a sang-froid she hoped he admired. “Whether your itch will be scratched remains to be seen.”

“Oh, it will very definitely be scratched,” he replied assuredly. “The single fact to be determined is when and where. But it will be satisfied. And by you.” He took her hand. “I think in the circumstances, we will remove to my private sitting room. Aunt Sophia is still out, and although it is normal for her to retire the moment she returns home, we will take no chances.
Her
sitting room and bedroom are in no way near mine. Come.” He led her not to the door, but to the paneling alongside the fireplace. As he bent a little to touch a rosette carved in the wood, the firelight glinted on his blond hair.
He really is handsome.
Caroline admired the way his buttocks fit in his pantaloons and the outline of his torso outlined under the fine lawn of his shirt. Not to mention the way his thighs moved as he walked. The words taught and tight entered her mind and stayed firmly put.