“This fire screen is most becoming.” Mama started toward the far side of the room. “I think I should like to admire it more closely.”
Mr. Dennison watched her walk away with confusion, then looked at Caroline. “Please, be seated.”
She obeyed, perching on the edge of a blue tufted chair. Once Mr. Dennison had sat across from her, she clasped her hands together on her lap. “It is no secret now that I am not fond of horses.”
His frown deepened.
“I believed it would not matter. I could still marry youand put my attention into the house and all it entailed. But it has become clear to me in recent weeks that while that is certainly possible, it is not the way I would like to live.”
Mr Dennison watched her, waiting for her to continue.
“If you will forgive me, I thought it best to inform you that your efforts in courting would be better served elsewhere.”
“A pretty speech, Miss Whitby,” he said dryly.
“An honest one, if it is not pretty,” she countered.
He glanced at her mother, then back at Caroline, his frown deepening. “I appreciate your candor. I cannot say it is unexpected, nor that I am happy to hear it, but I will accept it graciously.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dennison.” She hesitated, then added, “I do hope you will find someone quite as horse mad as you are.”
His answering smile was indulgent. “As do I.”
“I hope you don’t mind,”Mama said later that day, coming into the parlor to find Caroline reading. “I invited the Shepherds to tea.”
“Mind?” She closed her book. “That’s wonderful news. Has James returned from the Fieldings’ yet?”
“No.” Mama let out a worried sigh. “He’s been gone so long, I fear it cannot be good news. He might be off at his club, drinking his disappointment away.”
“Or the Fieldings are celebrating together,” Caroline offered. “And he remained with them.”
“Perhaps.”
“When are the Shepherds arriving?”
“In an half hour. I thought you might want a warning.”
Caroline stood. “I shall look through my gowns.”
“You look lovely, darling. That shade of green becomes you well.”
Caroline pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Thank you. Still, I would like Lottie to look at my hair.”
Mama appraised her, laughing slightly to herself.
“What is it?” Caroline asked.
“You have never once cared for your appearance before greeting a guest in as long as I can recall. Not even for Mr. Dennison.”
Caroline blushed, recalling how tightly she used to lace her stays for him. Never once had she altered herself for Tristan. “This feels important.”
“It is, but you’ve nothing to worry about. It has been obvious for many weeks how enamored he is with you.”
“You must say that. You are my mother.”
“I think I showed great restraint, standing back and letting you decide for yourself which of the men suited you better. For my part, I always liked Tristan for you more.”
Caroline pulled her mother in for a hug. “We must hope Father feels the same.”
