“Asleep. You shall see him in the morning.”
“That is wonderful,” Caroline said.
“Yes.” Mama hesitated, looking at Kitty, before pasting a smile over her lips. “Well, good night.” She walked away, leaving Caroline with a distinctly uneasy feeling.
Chapter Thirteen
Caroline woke to an elbow pressed between her shoulder blades. She shifted, allowing the pressure to ease, and turned over to find Kitty with her mouth hanging open and a deep, heavy snore rattling her chest. Her light brown hair trailed over her pillow and across her face, most of it having fallen out of the plait Lottie had fastened last night. The woman could sleep quite deeply for one who had endured a shocking event the evening before.
Or perhaps that was part of the reason for her heavy snoring. She was safe now.
Caroline slipped from the bed quietly, careful not to disturb her friend, and pulled on her dressing gown. She untied her long plait and ran a brush through her hair. If she had the right of it and Tristan meant to propose again, she would accept him this time. He had told her he meant everything he’d said, and she felt she could trust him. He had recalled details that proved he had been paying attention to her for years.
Could she trust that his flirting was authentic?
She hadn’t seen him flirt with others recently as he did in their youth, it was true, but perhaps that was merely because his focus was on helping her with Mr. Dennison.
Letting out a long breath, she pulled on her slippers and snuck from her bedchamber. Lottie could help her dress in another room if Kitty needed to sleep longer. But when she went into the parlor to ring the bell, she found her father sitting on the sofa with a cup of steaming tea. His face was tanned, like James’s, his hair gray and receding. Long, thick side whiskers trailed down his cheeks, and when he lifted his eyes to her, he was immediately familiar. The changes from the previous five years were drastic, but he was still her father.
Her breath caught. She’d not seen her father in so long, and she’d missed him. The sense of rightness in having her entire family restored to one house was overwhelming.
“Caro,” he said warmly, setting down his cup and rising with outstretched arms. “Have I been gone for so long? Last I saw, you were practically a child. You have grown into a beautiful young woman.”
She returned his hug, inhaling the familiar scent of tobacco and Bay Rum. “How was your journey?”
“Uneventful, blessedly. There was a slight storm, but we avoided the worst of it.”
“It is good to have you home.” Caroline sat on the sofa beside her father and reached forward to pour herself a cup of tea.
“Pomfrey can bring a meal if you’re hungry,” he said.
“This will suffice for now.” Caroline took a sip, nearly scalding her tongue. “Tell me of your adventure.”
“Oh, no,” he said, laughing. “I would far rather hear about you. Mother tells me you have young Dennison dangling after you.”
“Not exactly. He has yet to make up his mind.”
Father chuckled. “Horse-mad, isn’t he? His father had a decent set of studs. Made a business out of it. You would be comfortable, Caro.”
Would she be comfortable in a home built on horses, surrounded by them? She had believed her disinterest in the creatures would hardly matter, but it was becoming plain Mr. Dennison would likely value his steeds above his wife. The conversations surrounding her would forever be about equine matters.
Tristan, however, had a healthy appreciation for the beasts, but no obsession. When she spoke to him, it was clear his attention and focus was on her.
If she was forced to choose a suitor today, it would not even be a competition.
“Tristan Shepherd has been spending time with us recently, as well,” she said.
“Hm.” Father sipped his tea, his mouth bent in a frown. “Is he the older of the brothers?”
“Younger, but he is set to inherit the Shepherd house here in Town.”
“That won’t do. You would be better off accepting Dennison, my dear. He has enough money for the both of you and an estate in the north country.”
Her stomach dropped, the finality in Father’s tone speaking to things he was not saying aloud. His preference was clear. She might have been in her majority, but he was still her father and his blessing mattered to her. His opinion as head of the household still carried weight.
James pushed the door open and crossed to join them, a heavy look on his face. “Good morning.”
“Tea?” Caroline asked. He nodded, so she prepared the cup as he liked it. It was not until she handed it to him thatshe realized he had not particularly greeted their father. She looked between them as James sat across from her and noted a belligerent set to his mouth. “What has happened?”
