Almack’s had not changed. It was the same stuffy room with the same orchestra perched on a balcony in the corner. The cake was still dry, the company still flat.
And Mr. Dennison was still absent.
What troubled Caroline most was the small measure of relief she felt at not yet being forced to face him. How would the rest of her life feel if she was this glad he had a cold and remained far away from her?
She pulled at the tips of her gloves, debating how much it mattered. Many husbands and wives led fairly separate lives. He could manage his horses, and she could manage the children. Both of them would be satisfied.
But…she would still need to face him in the evenings at dinner. Stand on his arm at parties. Be his partner in life.
The very notion sent a wave of gloom through her.
“I was hoping to see you tonight,” Kitty said, sidling up beside her and pressing her shoulder into Caroline’s. “When I learned Mr. Dennison was still sick, I wondered if you would remain home.”
“His cold is not as trifling as Lady Tilbury led me to believe.” Caroline searched the nearby group of matrons and found her mother chatting with them, her tranquil smile not revealing any of her trepidation.
James approached with two glasses of lemonade. When he noticed Kitty, he offered one to her.
She tittered. “You could not have meant that for me.”
“It is fortuitous you are here. I took it for myself, but I can’t stand the stuff.”
Kitty accepted the glass, but shot him a disbelieving glance. “You are very chivalrous.”
Caroline took her glass of lemonade, watching the conversation unfold between her brother and friend as though she was not there. She sipped her drink with amusement, the bland lemonade not very citrusy nor very sweet.
“I am only doing what any man would, Miss Fielding: offering my drink to a beautiful woman who looks thirsty.”
Kitty blushed prettily at that. When she raised her glass to her lips, she did not take her eyes from James.
He seemed to recall himself and straightened. “May I have your next dance, Miss Fielding?”
Kitty pouted slightly. “I’m afraid I’ve given them all away.”
“I am not surprised to learn that.”
“But you will attend my ball on Saturday, I hope. I haven’t promised any of those dances yet.”
James’s eyes flicked to Caroline.
“Yes, of course we will,” she said. “We would not miss it for anything.”
“Except a trifling cold?” Kitty quipped.
“Goodness, I hope not.” Caroline gave James a meaningful look.
He seemed to sense what she was prodding him to do. “May I have your waltz on Saturday, Miss Fielding?”
“You may.” The instruments in the loft started to play in earnest, and a line formed between Kitty’s light brown eyebrows. “I must go. I’ve promised this dance already.” She finished her lemonade, then curtsied to them and left.
Once she was gone, Caroline looked at her brother. She tried to see him as Kitty might, his dashing golden hair styled neatly, his cravat high and well-tied, his coat closely fitting. He was handsome.
“You should stop looking at me like that,” James said.
“Like what?”
“In a calculating manner. I cannot tell what you are planning, but I have a feeling I won’t like it above half.”
“You are being ridiculous. I was merely wondering how long you and Kitty have carried feelings for one another.”
