Caroline followed her mother’s line of sight toward the family making their way across the room. They were late, but it seemed they had been speaking to Mr. Fielding and now had spotted Caroline and her mother.
Tristan appeared to be trying to steer his parents toward the Whitby women. When they were close enough, Mrs. Shepherd’s wide smile was evident.
“Deborah, I did not realize you had intended to come to Town,” Mama said, putting her hand out to clasp Mrs. Shepherd’s.
“It was not planned.” Mrs. Shepherd looked toward her husband, her eyes twinkling. “But we missed Tristan dearly.”
Tristan gave a dry smile. “Or was it merely to reassure yourself I am making progress toward matrimony?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Mrs. Shepherd turned sharp eyes on Caroline. “My, but you look beautiful tonight, Miss Whitby. You must have hordes of men vying for your dances.”
“You’re too kind.” Caroline shared an amused look with Tristan.
“I am one of them,” he said. “Will you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me, Miss Whitby?”
She bit back a comment about the formality of his using her surname, but his timing could have been better. She had meant to help Kitty achieve her goal soon…but perhaps it would be easier for Caroline to play her role if she had a reason to walk toward Kitty. “I would be honored.”
“Splendid!” Mrs. Shepherd said. “Oh, can you believe our children are dancing?”
Mama nodded. “They have many times over the last month.”
“Many times?” Mrs. Shepherd turned an appraising eye on her son. “That is quite interesting to hear. Perhaps this is the woman who?—”
“Darling,” Mr. Shepherd said, putting an arm around his wife. “I think I will fetch a glass of madeira. Would you care for one?”
“I would, thank you.”
“And you, Mrs. Whitby?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mama said.
He squeezed Mrs. Shepherd’s shoulder and disappeared.
Tristan put out an arm for Caroline. “Shall we make our way toward the floor? The waltz has ended.”
She put her hand on his arm and ignored the overbearing smile from his mother, allowing him to lead her away.
“Their visit is unexpected,” Tristan said. “My mother hasalways been something of a matchmaker. She thinks of little else but weddings and marriages.”
“I am fully aware,” Caroline said. Though in the past she had not been the recipient of such attention, she had seen Mrs. Shepherd extol the greater virtues of her sons on many occasions.
Caroline kept watch on Kitty and James, subtly steering Tristan toward them as they walked. Kitty was searching the crowds. When she found Caroline, a broad smile lit her face. She gave a slight nod, confirming that they ought to proceed as planned, which did nothing but send a volley of anxious butterflies through Caroline’s stomach. This scheme was mad. Everyone would see through it.
When they neared each other, Caroline brought her foot down hard on Kitty’s hem, holding it in place as Kitty continued on. A tearing sound rent the air, and Kitty gasped, turning to look over her shoulder at the ripped seam along the bottom of her dress. She tried to trip forward into James’s arms, but he was not in the proper position to catch her, so she righted herself before she could fall to the floor.
“Oh, no! Kitty, forgive my clumsiness!” Caroline said.
“My gown!” Kitty wailed. “You’ve torn my gown!”
Caroline’s eyebrows lifted slightly. That was not how they had rehearsed this.
“Oh, but what will I do?” Kitty cried. “It’s ripped!”
“Can it not be sewn?” James asked, coming around to see the offending hem.
Kitty turned grateful eyes on him. “Yes, I suppose. But oh, what a mess!”
“I will sew it,” Caroline said, less apologetically than before. “James, perhaps you ought to find Mr. Fielding and inform him that Kitty will be in the drawing?—
