Tristan turned his head and let out a frustrated groan.
When the sound came again, he ran his hand down Caroline’s arm until he found the mask she held, and he divested her of it. Once it was back in place, he took her hand and pulled softly. “Shall we finish that conversation another time? It sounds as though Miss…uh…Fox might need us.”
Drat Kitty. Caroline’s mouth was dry, so she nodded. Tristan looked back at her. “Are you well?”
“Quite well, yes.”
“You needn’t sound so confident, you know. It does not hurt to allow a man to believe he has undone you, just a little.”
If Caroline was a knitted blanket before, Tristan had unraveled her into a pile of yarn. But the man was confident enough without that bit of information. She did not reply, but hurried along the path beside him, looking for the rest of their party.
“No—I cannot…please!” Kitty called.
Tristan stopped immediately, looking toward the hedges where the voice had come from, then bolted in that direction.
“I told you to leave her be,” a dangerous, low voice said.
Caroline hurried behind Tristan, holding her hem above the gravel pathway and keeping pace as he ran through the row of shrubbery. They turned the corner as a man in a black domino—James, she imagined—cocked his elbow back and landed a facer to the side of Lord Bengard’s dog mask.
Kitty squealed in dismay, then threw herself into James’s arms, sobbing against his chest. He looked up, his wide eyes landing on Caroline. “Where the devil have you been?”
“Lost,” Caroline said. “There were so many people, we found ourselves separated from you…and oh, James, does that really matternow?”
“You know me,” he said, tearing off his mask. He inhaled deeply. “Good. We ought to leave before Bengard comes to.”
Tristan left her side, pulling his hand free. He crouched beside the viscount, pressing his fingers to the man’s neck. Evidently satisfied Lord Bengard still breathed, he stood. “My thoughts as well.”
Caroline was cold, missing his hand in hers, but that didn’t signify. “Kitty, are you hurt?”
Her soft crying abated slightly as she lifted her head. “Not badly, no. Only I am a trifle shocked.”
“Naturally,” Caroline agreed. “Was Lord Bengard?—”
“He’s a blackguard,” she said with feeling. “I had thought he meant to kiss me. That is why I let him sneak me away when Mr. Whitby wasn’t paying attention. It is not entirely unacceptable to permit a kiss if one is going tomarrya gentleman. But I…I had not imagined he would take such…liberties!”
“I will kill him,” James said darkly.
“Oh, no!” Kitty cried. “It is not so bad as that. You rescued me quite soon enough, Mr. Whitby. I did not come to any real harm. Only, his intentions were not…not honorable.”
James looked livid. “So he meant to set you up as his?—”
“That is quite enough, I think,” Caroline said, her voice abnormally high. “Can we leave this place now?”
“Yes.” James drew an arm around Kitty and started toward the pathway again. “Let us take Miss Fielding home.”
“Must you?” she asked. “I am afraid my father will not be pleased. If I could come toyourhouse, I could recover.”
“You may come home with us,” Caroline said in soothing tones. “We will see to it you are cared for and a note is sent round to your father telling him you have decided to sleep at our house tonight. We will return you home in the morning following breakfast.”
“That is just the thing, Caro,” James said approvingly.
Lord Bengard stirred, a moan slipping from his mouth.
“Should we do something about this?” Tristan asked, gesturing to the man lying on the ground.
“I would like to call him out,” James said evenly.
“You cannot,” Caroline reminded him. He had no connection to Kitty that would make it appropriate for him to do so—no familial relationship at all.
