Thwack. The sound of her knife hitting its mark was satisfying. The knife handle still vibrated where it stuck out from the middle of a black crow. The murder of crows she’d painted on the side of the woodshed spanned a ten-foot radius. Some were large, painted in the foreground, and some were tiny specs flying away into an imaginary sky.
She picked up another knife. Grasping its slim handle, she took in a deep breath and imagined the crows were instead a group of overdressed, perfumed bachelors. Their smug faces laughing as they discussed their latest exploits at the club. So what if it was gratifying to give them a taste of their own medicine. Did that make her a bad person? She launched the knife at her target. She had a purpose; she would stir up some talk and then…what? Her hand that held the knife dropped to her side. How could she help women who wanted to change their circumstances? What did they need?
“Hello there. Am I interrupting?” a deep voice called out from behind her.
Morgan. She’d hoped to have exorcised some of her anger before she saw him this afternoon. The man was impossible. He never did what she said. Caroline let her knife fly.Thwack!The man continued to infuriate her and arouse her whenever they spoke. He was so irritatingly handsome.
“Very nice.”
She gained some satisfaction from the admiration she heard in his voice. Taking a cleansing breath in through her nose, she turned to face him. “Thank you. I see you received my note.”
He nodded. “I did not know knife skills were taught to ladies of the quality.” He gestured to the painting. “Why crows?”
“I hate them. When I was small, I went berry picking with my nanny, and on our way home, several crows attacked my basketand would not leave me alone. Filthy scavengers.” She flipped a knife in the air and caught it in her left hand. “Vivian taught me how to use a knife. I was accosted at a house party by a guest who became a little too friendly when he came upon me alone. Vivian saved me by whacking him behind the knees with her pall-mall mallet. Later, she showed me some basic defensive moves. The target throwing became an extension of my increasing skills.”
“Ah, that makes more sense.”
“Why is it no one is ever surprised when they learn that Vivian has skill with a knife?”
“Well, I have seen her shoot a gun with deadly accuracy, and I’ve met her father, so…” he shrugged.
Caroline grinned. Anyone who had met Captain Jamieson would have no doubt that he taught his daughter everything she would need to protect herself among sailors. Caroline pulled her stiletto from its sheath at her waist. “This was a gift from the captain. He said it was perfectly proportioned for a lady’s hand. And lethally sharp.” She held it out on one flat palm for Cage to see.
“It’s beautiful.” His gaze met hers, and his eyes darkened, smoldered. He ran a finger down the ornate filigree that covered the handle. The move felt as intimate as if his finger had caressed her skin. She closed her fist around the handle. The cool metal never ceased to comfort her. She dropped her gaze and placed it back into its sheath.
“Are you ready to go shopping? Your sister needs a new wardrobe. She simply cannot subsist on the three dresses she owns.”
“I said as much to her yesterday evening. But do you want me hulking along next to you ladies on Bond Street?” He grimaced.
“Yes. I did promise you that I would create opportunities for you and Grace to spend time together. Plus, the news of ourengagement will be circulating by now. It will be good to be seen out and about together.”
Cage winked. “So that everyone will believe you have actually said yes to someone?”
She smacked his arm.The rogue. “Something like that. Come on, let’s go find Grace.”
****
Two hours later, Cage followed Grace and Caroline down Bond Street. The avenue bustled with well-dressed patrons. The weather was unseasonable warm for mid-May, and droplets of sweat gathered on his brow and dampened his shirt underneath his navy-blue jacket. He carried several wrapped packages under one arm. The ladies had been into the draper, the haberdashery, and the milliner. He’d sat patiently among rows of fabric, made the ladies laugh by trying on bonnets, and generally watched the two women smile and have fun while organizing a new wardrobe for Grace.
Caroline’s skill in making everyone around her comfortable and amused was astounding. Not just with his quiet sister, but with every shop employee as well. Everyone seemed to fall effortlessly under her charms. As they entered the dress shop, the quiet hush of the place surprised him. The other shops had been busy and loud with the chatter of shoppers. But this place was empty. A woman in a simple dark blue dress hurried across the carpet to greet them.
“Bonjour, Lady Caroline.”
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Chaumont. This my good friend, Lord Wrotham, and his sister Lady Grace Blakely. Lady Grace is in need of a whole new wardrobe for London.”
“Right this way, ladies, please have a seat. Can I bring you some tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” Caroline said, shooting Cage a pointed look and nodding to a set of chairs by the front window.
Cage sat down gingerly on the delicate wooden chair, not entirely sure it would hold his bulk. He shook his head. What had become of his life? After a few minutes, Mademoiselle Chaumont led Grace down to the end of the store, and the two women disappeared into the next room. Caroline came to sit next to him. She closed her eyes and released a sigh. For the first time this afternoon, he saw her without her smile, and she looked tired.
“This place is much quieter than the others,” he commented.
Her eyes popped open. “That’s because I booked us a private appointment. We have the dressmaker exclusively for the next hour.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“I would normally have her come to the house for the appointment, but it’s more fun to spend the afternoon shopping. Tiring, but more fun.”
