Both of them stared at him, mouths slightly open.
“Not if you betrayed me toThe Times,” Caroline said from the doorway. “In which case, I shall have nothing to do with you.”
Geoffrey felt a shard of warmth slice through him like summer sunshine, simply from seeing her. Moreover, he couldn’t help smiling.
“How dare you grin at my daughter?” Lady Chimes said.
“How can I not?” he asked. “She is perfection.”
“What poppycock!” Mangue muttered. “If Diamond doesn’t want a dowry, he’ll probably be miserly with his wife, keep her in rags, and not give her any pin money.”
“Nonsense. My wife may have all my fortune,” Geoffrey insisted. “I will rest it at her feet.”
Instead of garnering a smile in return from Caroline, she frowned.
“I want to hear the answer. Didyouspeak withThe Times?”
“No,” he said firmly.
She looked at Mangue. “Didyoutalk toThe Times?”
“Indubitably not,” he said, sounding sincere. Even Geoffrey couldn’t doubt him.
“Then I am entirely bewildered for I know it was not I nor my mother.” Caroline looked at Mangue. “Only know, my lord, I think it the height of kindness that you would still offer for my hand.”
“I want your hand,” Geoffrey interrupted, “and not out of kindness.”
They stared at one another.
Her mother bristled. “You will leave, Lord Diamond, or I will have our butler toss you out.”
Geoffrey tried to imagine the Chimes’s butler achieving such a feat, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t create such an ignominious scene. That was, not unless Caroline asked him to stay.
“I came to see you, Lady Caroline, to pledge my troth and to ask for your hand.”
“You are out of line,” Lady Chimes said, but Geoffrey didn’t turn his gaze from her daughter’s exquisite face.
“I will gladly help your butler get rid of this rascal,” Mangue offered.
Geoffrey heard him but ignored his words, waiting only for an answer from Caroline.
She stared at him a long moment before glancing at her mother.
“Don’t you dare respond to this scoundrel,” Lady Chimes directed. “His behavior is beyond the pale!”
Caroline bit her lower lip, which he found not only charming but incredibly arousing.
“I don’t believe I shall marry either one of you,” she said finally.
While he was digesting that odd statement, she turned heel and left.
Geoffrey had to endurefirst one week and then two of missing Caroline. He had not simply enjoyed each of their brief, furtive encounters, he had relished them. She’d become a necessary part of his existence, even if he’d had to hide his affection and disguise his admiration. Yet she disappeared from the events on the Season’s social calendar and cut off all contact.
He sent notes on three occasions, left his calling card twice, and even demanded to see her to an utterly impassive butler — all to no avail. Either she had lost interest, or her parents were keeping her on a tight rein.
And then one day, she appeared again. He was at the theatre with a young lady whose mother was a friend of his own mother. His companion was attractive, soft-spoken, and had a sweet smile, but she wasn’t Caroline. It wasn’t the lady’s fault that he couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm to even sniff her hair or do anything more than politely smile.
While he was looking out over the audience from his family’s box during the intermission, having been a terrible escort and declining to go to the lobby for wine and jabbering prattle, he saw a head of glorious red hair. Paired with another equally coppery-headed female, he knew in a heartbeat it must be Caroline and her mother.
