“Her name is Miss Crane,” Jo corrected her. “Her new governess,” she explained to Caro.
“I don’t need a governess.” Merry’s brow furrowed. “I have no intention of becoming a young lady and catching a husband. What a beastly idea. But we’re listening to Aunt Caro tell us about her new young man. She’s a widow, so she can have an affaire de coeur without censure.” Merry’s blue-eyed, piercing gaze was much like Jo’s. “Confess, Aunt Caro. Is he handsome?”
Caro’s face burned to the roots of her hair. She ought to command Jo and her niece to cease this interrogation and mind their own business, and then she’d rise and coolly quit the house.
Which would tell the two ladies all they needed to know.
“Yes,” Caro whispered.
Jo and Merry erupted into squealing laughter. They hugged each other, then Merry squeezed her way between Caro and the arm of the settee.
The two proceeded to bombard Caro with questions from both sides. What did Mr. Stone look like? Where did he come from? Why was he examining old paintings if he’d been an officer in a regiment? Did he have any brothers or close friends?
This last came from Merry, with emphasis, as though it was the most important point.
Caro supplied them with every detail she could, knowing she’d never leave this room alive if she did not.
“He did mention two fellow officers,” Caro answered Merry. “They were together at Waterloo, trapped behind enemy lines. Mr. Stone made light of it, but from the story he told Leo, I gather it was quite perilous. They were lucky to escape unscathed.”
“A dashing officer surviving a dangerous mission,” Merry cooed. “Better and better. Ripe for an affaire de coeur.”
“You should not even know what that means,” Jo said severely. “She is right, though, Caro. It is time you enjoyed yourself.”
Caro thought she’d never cease blushing. “My dears, it will hardly come to that. And you should not know of such things either, Jo. You’re an unmarried miss.”
“Spinster, you mean,” Jo said with a grin. “Unmarried, but so very wise. The things my sister has told me about ladies of society would shock you senseless. You are a paragon of virtue, Caro, which is one reason they took against you when you married Leopold. They expected you to be a hussy, not an angel.”
“I would be exactly that if I follow the path you are suggesting,” Caro pointed out.
She strove for indignation, but a sudden image took her breath away. She saw herself entering a bedchamber where Mr. Stone, undressed for some reason, turned to confront his intruder. He’d start at her entrance, but quickly pull her into his arms, stifling Caro’s apologies with a scalding kiss.
Heat pooled in Caro’s belly, and she inhaled sharply.
Jo and Merry went off into laughter again. “I vow, Caro, you are lost,” Jo declared. “I must meet this gentleman.”
“And so must I,” Merry declared. “And his friends.” She pointed behind her hand at Jo and mouthed to Caro, For her.
Jo ignored the gesture. “Not you, child. Not until I assess him and decide whether he is good enough for our Caro. We must consult Louise as well.”
“No, no.” Caro said hastily. “Louise has her hands full with her boys. No reason to disturb her.”
“Nonsense. I will write her this evening. We’ll think of an excuse to bring your Mr. Stone somewhere we can meet him.”
“Or we’ll simply turn up in Grosvenor Square,” Merry suggested. “Calling on our poor, lonely Aunt Caro.”
“That is enough.” Caro finally dredged up some firmness. “If you three arrive to stare at the man, he’ll flee, and I’ll never know if there’s anything of value among Leopold’s things.”
“If Mr. Stone survived being penned up on a ridge by the French army, he will stand ladies asking him questions,” Jo said. “Merry will either keep silent or shan’t be allowed to come.” She glared at Merry, who rolled her eyes but subsided. “Why do you say anything of value?” Jo asked Caro. “I thought your Leopold’s collection was priceless. Enough to keep you in splendor the rest of your days if you and the dowager can bear to part with any of it.”
Caro wiped away the rose-tinted dreams of Eamon Stone in a bedchamber and returned to her present circumstances. “Mr. Stone has found some very convincing fakes Leopold’s father and grandfather must have been tricked into purchasing. I’ve written to Mr. Clive about them but have had no answer.”
The explanation of Mr. Stone’s discoveries started Jo on another series of questions about Mr. Stone, Cheswell’s, and how reliable was Mr. Stone’s appraisal.
Jo rang for tea and cakes, and the conversation lasted well into the evening, Merry neither growing weary nor uninterested in the topics that so absorbed the adults.
By the time Caro departed, she was both exhausted and exasperated. A hug from Leo, a warm bed, and a good book was what she needed to comfort her, but in all of this, she was to be disappointed.
“Who the devil are you?”
