Caro faced Eamon. She hadn’t missed his surprise when Leo had hugged him, plus the gratitude mixed with melancholy that had flitted across his face.
“The lad was in no danger, I assure you,” Eamon said before Caro could speak. “I’d never have let him fall.”
Caro believed him. Eamon had shown so far that with Leo, he was gentleness itself.
“Sliding down the banister?” Caro arched her brows, trying to sound severe.
“Yours are perfect for it.” Eamon patted the railing that led to the next floor. “Wide and flat, for a swift, smooth ride. Unlikely you’d fall.” He grew serious. “I promise you, I had hold of him all the time, Caro. I’d never let him be hurt.”
Again, Caro believed him, and it gave her a cozy feeling that she could.
“Why on earth did he want to do something so bizarre?” Caro demanded. “Leo’s never shown a longing to use the railings as a means of descent before.”
Eamon’s cheeks reddened. “Because he saw me do it first.”
“Oh?”
She enjoyed watching his discomfiture. Eamon tried to look dignified but dissolved into shamefaced laughter.
“I was a champion banister-slider as a boy. As I said, when my father dragged me to various country houses, I had little to do. I could only read or look at paintings so long.” Eamon shrugged. “No one was about once McCormick departed, and I thought I was unobserved. But Leo saw, and he begged me for a lesson. I couldn’t say no.”
“You could have tried,” Caro said.
Eamon shook his head. “Impossible. He makes such a sad face when he’s disappointed. It breaks my heart.”
“I know.” Caro found it difficult to resist Leo anything when he was crestfallen. The dowager claimed he’d be spoiled beyond redemption. At the same time, the dowager slipped him an extra bit of cream in his tea or a penny from her pocket when she thought Caro wasn’t looking.
Eamon opened his hands in a helpless gesture. “He had me cornered. I had to surrender.”
“Show me,” Caro said on impulse.
Eamon’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“Show me how you were a champion banister-slider. You shouldn’t make such claims unless they are true.”
Eamon stared at her, then sent her an impish grin before he dashed up the stairs to the floor above.
He lifted the tails of his coat, giving Caro a view of a trim backside and muscular thighs in close-fitting trousers, before he hopped to sit on the banister, his right leg crooked over it.
He glided down with grace, picking up speed as he descended. Just before he reached the newel post at the flight’s end, he leapt off, landing agilely on his feet next to Caro. Eamon executed a bow, and she applauded.
“I admit, you do it grandly,” Caro said.
Eamon drew a deep breath, hands on hips. “I am out of condition. Going soft, taking my ease after army life.” He gestured to the railing. “Try it.”
Caro started. “Try what? Taking my ease after army life?”
“You amuse me, Duchess. I mean sliding down the banister.”
Excitement tingled through her. Caro hadn’t felt such an impulse since her debutante days, when life stretched before her, all things possible. Before the ton had censured her for marrying above her, before life had taken away the illusion of stability in which her husband had cloaked her.
“I could not,” Caro said, but hesitantly. “I am a widow, elderly and dignified.”
“You are a young woman who confines herself too much. Your visitors are gone, Singleton is downstairs with Leo, and the dowager is upstairs. Who is to see?”
“What about the gentleman we hired from Cheswell’s gallery?” Caro asked. “He is here before me. What would he think?”
“He’d be happy you were at last taking some pleasure in your life.” Eamon held out his hand. “I will steady you all the way, as I did your son.”
