Stop. She didn’t want to think about that.
She rested her hand on top of Lavinia’s head. Lavinia had raised her muzzle and sniffed coming into the room but had stayed at Caroline’s side. She had been good and had not gone and nosed at Phineas’ bulge even though the tension in her neck showed she wanted to.
How alike we are, La.
Phineas bowed. “Lady Caroline. Miss Lavinia.”
She curtsied. She looked around. Her brother was not in the room. Of course he wasn’t. He had told her this was the day and time when he went to fence at Antonio’s Academy. And she thought Edmund had said Phineas usually went with him.
She started to edge toward the open drawing room door.
“Lady Caroline, I will be just a moment, and yes, please do stand there, in the doorway, where your butler can see you. I will speak softly, but if I am overheard, I will cause you no embarrassment. I noticed I may have prompted some upset for you yesterday, and for that, I am most apologetic.”
His eyes had the same hurt look they had held months ago in her bedchamber. The adorable, sad look she was sure made scores of women want to reassure him. To kiss him. To stroke him. His hair. His skin. His—
Stop.
“I deliberately did not go to the theater last night because I wanted you to enjoy yourself there and not worry about my presence. But I found out this morning my box was used in my absence.” He swallowed. “And Edmund may have told you something of those who were in my box. But your brother has been many months from town since your father’s death, and he has not been privy to changes in my life. Indeed, changes made after my visit to your house in Sudbury. I want to assure you—”
She held up her hand. “No.”
He took one step toward her. “What do you mean byno, Lady Caroline? You must believe me.”
She took a deep breath. She must choose her words very carefully. “You owe me . . . n-nothing.”
She had done it.
But again, his eyes were hurt. What a riddle he was. Much less of a rogue than she had thought.
Or maybe even more of one. Because would he have rather had her react with anger? Is that what he had expected?
“I thought, I hoped, Caro, darling, our one night together was as enjoyable to you as it was—”
She darted forward and clapped her hand over his mouth. Their bodies were close together. His beautiful hazel eyes looked up at her. Now the eyes were sparkling with some kind of naughty joy. And his lips were warm against her palm.
And she wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him.
Phineas wanted Caro vexed. He wanted her jealous. He wanted the imperturbable woman who dominated his most wicked thoughts injured by the knowledge of his previous lovers so he had evidence she felt something for him. And so he could soothe her with the honeyed words which came to him so easily. She might even permit a caress or a kiss or two, so he could show her even further how much he thought of her, how much he desired her. And that kiss or caress might slake his lust for her. A little.
Or would a kiss act as a bellows and fan the flames of his ardor to the point where he might take her in this room, butler or no butler, brother or no brother?
After all, Phineas had been months now without female companionship. No other woman could hold his attention. No one could touch the beauty of his Caro, spare in speech, spare in flesh. So reserved when he came to speak to her in her bedchamber but then so passionate with her kiss. And so desirous of him during their one night together.
He had been able to restrain himself from returning to Sudbury only because he had had Edmund’s word that he would bring Caro to London. Otherwise, Phineas would have been in Sudbury, stopping on his way back from Burchester to London, hat in hand, breaking all rules of propriety within two weeks of her father’s funeral.
But had it really been restraint? Or had it been nerves?
Because Phineas had also delayed coming to see Caro when she and her brother had finally alighted in London. The day after Epiphany, he had stood at the far end of their street in Mayfair and watched the Sudbury carriage come to a stop. And then he had seen her—oh, my God,her—be handed down by the footman.
She had tilted her bonneted head up to look at the house. Then a small horse had gotten out of the carriage. No, not a horse. An enormous dog. A bloodhound. What did Edmund mean by bringing a hunting dog to London?
Caro had touched the animal on the head and looked down as if she were speaking to it. Edmund had gotten out of the carriage next, and the three had disappeared into the town house.
Phineas had turned away, feeling like he might retch. No, not today. He would not call on her today. Showing up her first day in London would seem overly eager and . . . needy. Let her settle into the house. He would call tomorrow.
But, surprisingly, he had not felt equal to seeing her the next day either. He had waited five long days after he had already waited more than three long months for her.
Phineas Edge was not a man who waited for anything.
