The door swung open before she could reach it. A large personage, who must be Lady Carmichael, barged inside, while Merry danced in agony behind her.
“Good heavens, it’s Caro Aylesmore,” Lady Carmichael announced in her sergeant-major tones. “What on earth are you doing in here?”
Lady Carmichael tried to push her way around Caro to scan the room, but Caro, Eamon’s lovely lady, marched purposefully out of the chamber, all but forcing Lady Carmichael to back out with her.
“Having a little sleep, if you must know,” he heard Caro say in her best duchess tones. “I haven’t been to a gathering this large since poor Leopold …” She faltered with a perfection that Eamon wanted to applaud.
“Oh.” Lady Carmichael sounded both sympathetic and disappointed. “You poor darling. Come with me. We’ll find a withdrawing room and put you to rights, then I will take you under my wing. No one will overtax you this night, I promise.”
Commanding her thus, Lady Carmichael led Caro away, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Eamon let out a breath, relieved the lady hadn’t insisted they use this room to straighten Caro’s hair and clothing. He remained on his back behind the couch, emotions racing through him faster than he could remember them doing in a long while.
Footsteps pattered into the chamber. “She’s gone,” Merry announced in the loudest stage whisper he’d ever heard. “Mr. Stone?”
Eamon thrust his arm up and waved over the back of the sofa. “Go on, lass,” he instructed. “Don’t give me away.”
Merry let out a satisfied giggle and retreated.
Once it was quiet, Eamon told himself to rise and make his way downstairs and out of the house. Better to disappear altogether than for others to notice that he and Caro had both been out of the ballroom for the same length of time.
But Eamon’s mouth tingled from her kisses, and his limbs held fire. His longing manifested itself in other ways, as well. Though the bare wood floor behind the sofa was cool, he remained still for a very long while, wishing Caro was there to warm him.
“I am a dreamer,” he told himself sternly, but his imagination did not care one whit.
Caro found herself Lady Carmichael’s captive. The woman quite literally took Caro under her wing, linking arms with her so firmly Caro could not stray a step from her side.
Caro was still aflame from Eamon’s fierce kisses, and her equally fierce ones in return. The sensation of his mouth on her bare flesh wouldn’t fade, igniting reactions she’d never experienced in her life.
Leopold had been a polite lover, cautious and gentle, as though he feared every touch would hurt her. Caro had appreciated his tenderness, but Eamon had given her a taste of what passion could be.
She shook from it and could scarcely focus on Lady Carmichael’s commands.
Lady Carmichael took Caro to a withdrawing room on the ground floor and instructed her own lady’s maid to restore Caro’s hair. The maid was only partly successful, distressed when Caro told her that more effort would be in vain.
Caro, however, became grateful for Lady Carmichael’s attentiveness when they reentered the ballroom. The lady shunted away questions of where Caro had run off to and what she’d been doing, telling anyone they encountered to leave the poor woman be.
Lady Carmichael even turned aside Jo and Louise, who were both agog to know if Caro had encountered Eamon again. Caro was not ready to discuss so intense an experience, when she wasn’t yet certain of her own feelings about it.
Lady Carmichael also prevented other gentlemen, young and aged, from seeking a dance. Though Caro and her son were in straitened circumstances, Leo was still a duke, and many a gentleman would be interested in forging a connection to him. Lady Carmichael deflected them all with a flip of her fan, keeping both ambitious dandies and middle-aged, heirless gentlemen away.
When Caro murmured that she wished to leave, Lady Carmichael loudly declared that the poor duchess was growing weary and should retire home.
“Thank you,” Caro said to Lady Carmichael with sincerity when the prince’s coach, which the family had lent her for the evening, rolled to the door to collect her. “You have been very kind.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Lady Carmichael returned. “I well remember what it was like to reenter society when I was newly widowed. Most people mean well, but the hounds do come out of the woodwork. They wish to use you to influence the young duke for their own benefit. You must take care who you let near your dear Leo.”
“I agree.” Caro thought immediately of Rudyard, though she knew Lady Carmichael would also warn her against Eamon.
“Good girl.” Lady Carmichael kissed her cheek, bathing Caro in a wash of French perfume. “Greet your mother-in-law for me. I must call ’round and have a grand chinwag with her.”
Caro promised to pass on Lady Carmichael’s regards and climbed into the carriage, assisted by one of the prince’s correct footmen.
The short ride home did not give Caro a chance to sort out her thoughts. They were jumbled with images of the ballroom and so many watchers, the pleasure of seeing her friends again, shock when Eamon arrived, the joy of the dance, and the wild desires stirred by his kisses.
When she arrived home, still agitated, Singleton told her that the dowager was already asleep, and Leo tucked up in bed. Caro climbed to the nursery at the top of the house, wanting to at least smooth Leo’s hair and whisper a good night.
She found her son sitting up, awake and brimming with the energy of small boys. Caro seated herself on the edge of Leo’s bed and explained to him why Eamon hadn’t arrived that day. She conveyed his profuse apologies—Caro had seen that Eamon truly felt wretched about it.
