“Does anyone dislike riding as much as Caro?” James added unhelpfully.
Her body felt weightless, as if one more wrong comment would puff her away. She was losing hold on Mr. Dennisonquickly. Her brother’s testimony gave Tristan’s claims the weight they had been missing.
Neither of them could know how long she had been acting under the guise that she had no problem with horses whatsoever—neither did they understand the length to which Mr. Dennison cared for the creatures. It bordered on obsession.
Mr. Dennison looked at Caroline, shocked and distrustful. “Is this true?”
Blood drained from her face, the room growing cool. Mr. Dennison’s brow pinched unhappily, confusion clouding his eyes. Despite the subtle ways she had exaggerated, she had never lied to the man. Permitting him to speak ad nauseam about a specific topic was in no way proclaiming to love it herself.
Had sheallowedhim to believe she would love riding with him? Perhaps.
Again, not a lie exactly. She would love being married, and if riding was something she would have to do to keep her husband happy, she would do it.
“I am eager to see your stables, Mr. Dennison,” she said, meaning every syllable. Because seeing his stables meant seeing the house she would live in.
“That does not answer my question. Or…I suppose it does. You haven’t been honest with me.” He shook his head the slightest bit. “Forgive me, I am…I need a moment to think.”
Was he questioning everything she ever said to him? After the six weeks of courting she had spent molding herself into the perfect woman for him? Was a dislike of horses enough to disqualify her as a potential wife, even after all the time they had spent coming to know one another?
Of course it was. It was why she had let him think sheshared his affinity for the blasted smelly creatures. He did not likepeoplehalf as much as he liked anything of an equine nature.
Goodgrief,she could positively wring Tristan’s neck.
“Shall we remove to the garden and speak privately?” Caroline asked, touching Mr. Dennison’s arm briefly.
He stepped out of her reach, causing her hand to fall. The discomfort on his face was telling. “I believe I shall leave, actually.”
This could not be happening. The man could not earnestly mean to walk out that door and take his marriage proposal with him merely because she did not like horses. Or, she supposed it was also because he felt deceived. She was sick, her stomach swirling.
“I would welcome a visit tomorrow,” she said, perfectly aware of how desperate she sounded.
Mr. Dennison shook his head. “Tomorrow I am occupied. Perhaps another time.” He dipped a quick bow and turned on his heel, marching from the room.
She stood, mouth slightly agape as she watched him leave, the prospect of a marriage this Season disappearing with him. He had slipped through her fingers like a length of silk turned to mist, leaving nothing for her to grasp. Caroline felt immediate heaviness upon her shoulders, the disappointment of losing a man she had spent so many hours pleasing with her amiable attitude, all the boring conversations she’d had to endure. All an utter waste of time.
Inhaling through her nose, she turned to look at Tristan, unable to contain the fury broiling in her chest. His gaze was fixed on her, a slight line between his brows.
“Oh, dear,” Mama muttered. “That didn’t go as planned.”
An understatement.
“I should like to go home,” Caroline said quietly, doingher best to keep her heavy breathing at bay. It was unclear whether she would burst into tears or flame were she to be provoked, but knowing Tristan and James, there was no question of her being provoked were she to remain.
“Of course, darling. I will ask for the carriage immediately.” Mama squeezed her arm before slipping away.
“What the devil was all that about?” James said, pushing his blond hair back off his forehead. “You asked me here to provide my blessing to that man, did you not?”
Tristan’s attention whipped toward her. She continued to ignore him.
“It seems that is no longer the case.” Caroline ought to begin gathering cats, for they would be her only companionship moving forward—save for her mother.
“I can’t help but feel I’ve done something wrong,” Tristan said.
The anger in her chest only grew. Hot tension curled through her veins, clenching her fists and the bottoms of her feet. Engaging in a conversation with him would cause her to lose control of her carefully managed emotions. “I had better find Mama. I will see you at home, James.”
Without waiting for a response or bothering to take her leave, Caroline followed the direction her mother had traveled.
A warm tear gathered in her eye, but she dashed it away before anyone could notice it. When she made it to the edge of the room, the voice behind her stopped her at once.
