“I was grateful to her,” Caro said. “She spared me much unpleasantness. She is another friend I now know is true.”
“You are evading the question with your usual adroitness. Tell me everything. Merry said she led Mr. Stone to the room where you were hiding and that you were alone together in there for quite some time.”
Caro’s face flamed so fiery hot that Jo burst into peals of laughter.
Caro knew Jo would not release her until her curiosity was fulfilled, so she tried to sketch what had happened in that room in a few short sentences while revealing as little as possible. In the end, however, she found herself leaning on Jo’s shoulder, confessing the elation that had seared her at Eamon’s touch.
“I am glad, darling.” Jo stroked Caro’s hair. Caro’s lacy cap, which she’d neatly pinned on this morning, had come all the way loose and now lay in her lap. “You deserve some passion in your life. Will you have an affaire de coeur with him, as Merry suggested?”
The question was put quietly, with no eagerness, a friend asking what decisions Caro would make.
Caro popped her head up. “An affair? It was only a kiss. Hardly worthy of an operatic drama.”
“Mr. Stone is a man,” Jo said in a reasonable tone. “A handsome one, yes, but a man all the same. A gentleman either wishes to marry a woman or be her lover. As Mr. Stone is not wealthy, he likely will not propose. But he might agree to a liaison.”
“You are very cool.” Caro regarded her friend in surprise. “When Leopold courted me, you couldn’t contain your excitement, saying you knew he’d marry me. He was in straitened circumstances as well.”
“Yes, but Leopold was a duke, and you were an unmarried miss. Now you are a widow, and Mr. Stone is an intriguing but penniless gentleman.”
“He has made no mention of a liaison,” Caro said, flustered. “It sounds quite temporary, in any case. What would be left of my reputation if he made me his lover and then disappeared?”
The practical part of her mind said this, but the emotional side was all aquiver. To be Eamon’s lover would be astonishing, glorious, a brief moment of happiness in Caro’s drab life.
“Nonsense,” Jo said with adamance. “We both know lovers who have been devoted to each other for years and years. There is Lord Carew and Mrs. Watkins, for example.”
Jo named two prominent members of the ton who, both widowed, had been together for so long that everyone thought of them as married, though they were not. They’d met when very young, had been forced into different marriages by ambitious parents, and still managed to be together in the end.
“They are in their eighties,” Caro reminded Jo. “It was more permissible in their day to carry on outside of wedlock.”
“They weren’t always in their eighties.” Jo grinned. “Mama remembers them from when she was a girl. They were quite naughty, she says, and I say, good for them. Then there is the Prince Regent and Mrs. Fitzherbert.”
“Who are highly scandalous,” Caro argued. “And the Regent has taken other mistresses besides her. Even though he’s married to poor Princess Caroline.”
“But they were still devoted, at first.” Jo waved gloved hands. “Never mind. I am trying to explain that a liaison needn’t be temporary. You could live out the rest of your life surrounded by admiration and passion, doted on by a handsome gentleman with very blue eyes. They are quite nice, his eyes.”
Jo’s tone turned appreciative, and Caro felt a puzzling dart of jealousy. Why should she mind if Jo thought Eamon attractive?
“This is all building castles in the air.” Caro pretended to revert to her sensible self. “It was one kiss. Well, a series of kisses.”
Jo’s smile deepened. “So you said. My question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing at all. What do you expect me to do? Follow Mr. Stone through the halls and entice him into more kissing?”
Caro’s imagination took flight even as she spoke. She pictured herself coming upon Eamon as he poured through a dusty book in the shadows of the gallery. He’d smile his warm smile, set aside the book and encircle her in his arms. His skilled lips would caress hers, and his hands would find the laces and catches of her bodice, as they had last night, his touch burning her once more.
Caro sucked in a breath, forcing herself back to the cool blue room and Jo’s knowing gaze.
“Ah, you are thinking of it.” Jo nodded. “Why not?”
“When have you become such a coquette?” Caro lifted her cap and fanned herself with the thin fabric.
“I have always been. But I am not allowed liaisons or flirtations or even a dance to satisfy my heart.” Jo’s words turned bitter. “I must live through you and Louise, and Louise is not likely to have a liaison for the rest of her life, she has retreated so far into her shell. So, you must enjoy yourself, because we cannot.”
“That is ridiculous.” Caro sprang up to pace. “Anyway, I cannot enjoy myself. I must be an upright, perfect mother to Leo, because his cousin will take him away from me in a heartbeat if I am not.” Her voice broke in the end, her worry crashing into her once more.
“What?” Jo rose, her levity falling away. “What has the diabolical Rudyard done now?”
Caro could not stop herself from pouring out her fears to Jo, her body tight, her throat aching. Her friend listened, as indignant on Caro’s behalf as she had been excited for her a few minutes earlier.
