Chapter 10
If a man is determined to reach for the moon, he needs to stretch toward it with all his might.
A thing is only impossible if I believe it so.
—Mr. Lawrence Sinclair, who’d never believed he could reach much of anything before now.
The tingles running up and down her arm turned from pleasurable to panicky. Didn’t he know what he was asking? Caroline pulled away from him and took a step back. It didn’t make her feel one whit safer. “I couldn’t possibly teach you to waltz.”
“You don’t know it?”
“Of course I do.” The dance may have had a scandalous reputation at first, but once Countess Lieven introduced it to Almack’s, all of Polite Society embraced it with a passion.
“Then if you know how to waltz, why not teach me? I shall try not to tread on your toes.”
That was the least of her concerns. “It wasn’t your fault you stepped on Horatia’s foot. In truth, she fell behind the beat. Her foot was simply in the wrong place.”
“Then what’s to hinder you and me from waltzing?”
If they waltzed, his hand would be upon her waist. She’d rest her palm on his shoulder. They’d be gazing into each other’s eyes for the whole dance while they dipped and turned around the room. They’d be so close to each other, she’d be able to feel him draw breath.
But Caroline couldn’t say that. If she did, she’d have to explain why it would be difficult for her to be so tangled up with him.
Not that she was afraid of Mr. Sinclair. Not exactly. She was more afraid of the way her pulse jumped when she was around him.
So instead of telling him she couldn’t possibly waltz with him for fear he’d realize how unsettling it would be to have him so near, she looked pointedly at the stairs down which Ben had just disappeared. “We’ve no music.”
“We can manage without. I’ve no talent for singing,” he said with a self-deprecating grin, “but I’ve been known to hum on occasion.”
“That wouldn’t help.” Dear heaven, but there was something about the man that made her want to give in. She felt…soft all of a sudden. Soft in resolve, soft in body, soft in the head. It was not at all like her. Her will was usually iron, and she propped herself up with it now. “I couldn’t teach you here. Not at this time, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Lawrence,” he corrected.
“Lawrence,” she repeated. His name felt so right on her lips, but that still didn’t mean she should give in to this request. “You know as well as I that we ought not to be alone like this.”
“I ask your pardon. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, of course not,” she said, relieved that he understood. “I didn’t think you did.”
“And I would never disrespect you.”
Caroline was certain that wasn’t in his nature. “I doubt you’re capable of being disrespectful.”
“Just improper.”
“No, I didn’t mean to suggest that—”
He gave her a devastating, slightly crooked smile. “Then you don’t believe I’m capable of having improper thoughts about you?”
“No. Yes. I mean…how should I know what you’re thinking?” Caroline said, suddenly understanding why Freddie had left the room in such a flustered rush. “Besides, even if you do have improper thoughts, you’re too fine a gentleman to act upon them.”
“If you truly believe that, you’ve nothing to fear in continuing our dance lesson.”
“But that’s not the point.”
“Ah!” he said. “Now I understand. You don’t wish for us to be alone because you have improper thoughts about me.”
“What? No,” she said with force. He was far too near the mark. “Heavens no. Of course not.”
“Why not?”
No one would blame her if she did. Lawrence Sinclair was handsome, possessed of fine sensibilities, and had far more determination than she would have credited him with. Who knew what other surprises she might discover? Even at first blush, there was plenty to like about the man.
But she couldn’t like him.
Caroline fell back on the cutting wit that had scared off so many other would-be suitors. “Clearly you’re so enamored of yourself, any admiration I might hold for you would pale by comparison.”
Lawrence chuckled. “Of all the things I’ve been accused of, thinking too highly of myself has never been listed. But before we return to my original request, let us stipulate that neither of us harbors improper thoughts about the other.”
“Agreed.” Surprisingly enough, the idea that he wasn’t having such thoughts about her rankled Caroline even more. But she couldn’t very well say so.
He spread his arms in a fair approximation of a waltz hold. “Then where’s the harm?”
“If someone should come—”
“They’d catch us engaged in a dance lesson, nothing more.”
“That would be more than enough for most tongue-waggers.”
“Do you honestly think your brothers or your friends are going to spread gossip about us?”
“No.” She wasn’t worried about Freddie, but Horatia might let something slip without evil intent. Whatever was rattling around her brain always seemed to find its way out of her mouth. Caroline edged closer to the head of the stairs. “But Freddie and Horatia are surely wondering why I haven’t come down already.”
“I’ve found most people are so concerned with their own small doings, they haven’t time to spare for anyone else’s.”
Caroline scoffed. “Have you met Horatia? She lives for other people’s doings.”
“But surely a waltz lesson wouldn’t take that long.”
Her mother’s voice rarely sounded in her mind, but Caroline heard her now, clear as a clarion call.
A reputation takes years to build. Seconds to destroy.
“I must go.”
“Then go if you must.” As if to belie his words, he caught her by the wrist. “But know that you are only leaving because you’re afraid.”
“Of you?” She pulled her hand free before he could feel she was indeed trembling. “I assure you, sir, I am not.”
“Then if it truly is only your friends’ censure you fear, say you’ll meet me for a waltz later.”
“Later?”
“Yes. When the longcase clock chimes three, your friends will be asleep and I will be here.”
“Then you’ll be here alone.”
“Nevertheless,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers. “I shall be here.”
She felt herself being drawn in, like a hooked perch on a line. Caroline broke away and made for the stairwell. Flying down the steps, she didn’t stop until she closed her chamber door behind her. Then she sagged against it, her heart still hammering. She’d come so close to staying there in the empty ballroom with Lawrence—
No, no, no. It’s Mr. Sinclair!
She had to start thinking of him that way again. It was beyond foolish not to keep the distance of formality between them. It was a thin shield, but it was all she had.
However, she’d worried needlessly that Frederica and Horatia would be concerned that she hadn’t immediately followed them down to her chamber. Her friends didn’t seem to realize anything was amiss.
They must have thought one or other of my brothers were still in the ballroom with me and Lawrence.
Unconcerned, Frederica and Horatia were chatting and giggling away, cooperating with, but mostly ignoring, the long-suffering Alice, who had assisted them out of their gowns and into their night rails.
“I do declare, this was ever such a jolly evening, Caro. Almost like a little house party,” Freddie said as she climbed into the big bed Caroline usually slept in by herself.
Whenever her friends stayed the night, she always gave up the big four-poster and took the small daybed tucked under her broad windowsill. Horatia was known to kick in her sleep and Freddie occasionally snored. Consequently, Caroline never felt giving up her bed was much of a sacrifice. She slept better alone.
As alone as Mr. Sinclair will be at three o’clock.
“Well, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” Horatia said, “but Mr. Sinclair acquitted himself…”
“Quite well?” Frederica supplied hopefully.
“More or less adequately,” Horatia finished. “In any case, Caro, your Mr. Sinclair will survive the ball.”
“He’s not my Mr. Sinclair.”
He’s my Lawrence. No, no, no!
She put a hand to her temple, as if that might drive the unwanted name from her mind. “Thank you for your help. The two of you made some real dancing practice possible.”
“We were glad to do it, weren’t we, Horatia?”
“You’d have been even gladder if you could’ve danced with Benjamin, I’ll warrant,” Horatia said slyly as she slid into her side of the bed and pulled up the coverlet. “Freddie’s a bit sweet on your family’s fiddle player, Caro. Always has been.”
“Oh, pish. Nothing of the sort,” Freddie said, the hot flush on her face giving the lie to her words. “I simply admire Ben’s…talent on the violin. That’s all there is to it.”
“Then why did you behave like an addlepated goose when he asked you about dancing at Lord Frampton’s?” Horatia said, a huge yawn distorting her voice.
“I’m not a goose. Am I, Caro?”
“Of course not, dear,” Caroline said reflexively. “You’re just high strung.”
“Well, if I am, it’s only because Benjamin is…well, he just…oh, dash it all! I’m simply not used to having so many invitations, you see,” Freddie said. “First Lord Rowley and now Caro’s brother.”
Frederica wasn’t bragging. There wasn’t a vain bone in her body. She was truly befuddled by the male attention that had come her way since her debut. When Horatia said nothing, Caroline assumed she must be fuming a bit that, of the two of them, Freddie had received the most masculine interest since they’d both come out.
But when the silence stretched into half a minute, Caroline realized Horatia’s breathing had turned slow and measured. She was already asleep.
“Good night, Freddie,” Caroline said.
Frederica waggled her fingers in good night to avoid disturbing their friend’s slumber. Then she tucked the coverlet up to her chin to join Horatia in sleep.
Alice pulled back the coverlet on the daybed and plumped the pillows for Caroline. “Did you have a fine evening then, my lady?”
“Yes, we did.” Caroline couldn’t very well tell her maid that she’d barely escaped the fine evening with her reputation intact.
“Well, you would have had a fine evening, wouldn’t you, because you were with that Mr. Sinclair—”
“And my brothers,” Caroline said, then added for good measure, “and my friends.”
“Oh, yes, and a grand party you must have made of it, too. That’s nice, then. My Dudley—you’ll remember him, my lady—he’s been first footman for ever so long, only now he’s valet to young Mr. Sinclair since he came to Lovell House. Remember Dudley, do you?”
“Yes, of course.” Who could forget a footman clumsy enough to drop a serving spoon down a guest’s gown? Caroline was certain her father would have let Dudley go a long time ago if the young man hadn’t been Price’s nephew. Even her father didn’t want to tangle with the butler over questions about the staff. Price was Lord Chatham’s right hand in matters domestic. Lovell House would surely run aground without Mr. Price at the helm.
But the butler would do well to keep his nephew on a very short leash.
“In any case,” Alice went on, “Dudley says as he’d like to be promoted to valet full time.”
“There’s no reason for a permanent promotion; Mr. Sinclair is only here as a temporary guest of Lord Bredon.” Then again, after the spoon debacle, keeping Dudley far from the table was something devoutly to be wished.
“Still, Dudley says as he’s never served such a fine, kindhearted gentleman as Mr. Sinclair,” Alice said with persistence.
“Dudley’s never been valet to anyone before, so that’s hardly a ringing endorsement,” Caroline said.
“That’s true. Only it’s just that when you’re in service, well, you get a sense about people. How they are in their hearts, mind. There’s those you serve because it’s your job, and you try not to care when they treat you like a piece of furniture. Then there’s those you serve because they appreciate what you do for ’em and it makes you feel your work means something. I know it may not seem like much, but for the likes of us, it makes a difference.”
“A difference between dignity and drudgery,” Caroline said thoughtfully. Lawrence, who noticed frost sparkling on the grass and his horse’s breath ghosting the air, would be the sort to notice Dudley’s efforts, even if they were less than skillful. “I hope I’ve never treated you like furniture.”
“Oh, no. You’re always kind, my lady. Not at all like some I could name.” Alice rolled her eyes toward Horatia’s sleeping form. Caroline smiled at that. Alice was always adept at speaking her mind, even when she didn’t come right out and say it with words.
When her maid started to help her disrobe, Caroline waved her away. “I’ve already kept you up too late. When did you start work this morning?”
Alice shrugged. “My days all start with the sun, my lady.”
“Go on to bed then, Alice. Dancing keys me up. I believe I shall sit awhile.”
“But, my lady—”
“This gown is easy enough to remove. Just a tab or two to untie. Go. You’ve more than earned a rest.”
The maid mumbled her thanks, curtsied, and left. Caroline turned down the lamp and settled into the small rocker by the fire. She hoped the hypnotic flames would soothe her, but something Mr. Sinclair had said kept tumbling around in her mind. Frederica wasn’t snoring yet. Even at the risk of waking her friend, there was something Caroline needed to say.
“Freddie?”
“Hmmm?” From the drowsy tone, it was clear Frederica had been almost asleep.
“I wonder if it would be better not to accept Lord Rowley’s request for the supper dance.”
“Why?”
She couldn’t very well tell her that Mr. Sinclair had urged her to convince Freddie to turn Rowley down. She’d only ask why again, and Caroline had no reason to give her.
Only the honest concern in Lawrence’s eyes.
“By giving him the supper dance, you’re granting him most of your evening,” Caroline said. “What if you should meet someone at the ball you fancy spending time with more than Lord Rowley?”
“I doubt I’ll do that.”
Caroline hadn’t expected meeting Lawrence would unsettle her plans either, but whether she wanted to admit it or not, it had. “What about Ben?”
“Before you came down, Horatia said Benjamin was just teasing me. She’s probably right. She often is,” Freddie said, as if trying to convince herself. “Ben has always teased me.”
“That was when you were just a little girl. You’re a young woman now,” Caroline said. “Ben’s a bit slow about noticing things, always caught up in his music or one of his other passions, but even he is aware of how you’ve blossomed.”
“Well, perhaps,” Frederica whispered.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if my brother sent you some posies.”
“I would. I fear he’s just as likely to come at me with that foul insect collection of his again. Do you remember when he tossed a small black thing at my head and yelled ‘Cricket’?”
“I’m sure Ben regrets that now.”
“He should. I tore out a good deal of my hair before you calmed me down enough to show me it was only a bit of yarn.” Frederica sounded more indignant than Caroline had ever heard her, but she suspected Horatia was right about one thing: Freddie wouldn’t protest this much unless she was a little bit sweet on Ben.
“The cricket incident happened a long time ago. It’s your Christian duty to forgive him,” Caroline reminded her. “I know. Why don’t you give Ben the supper dance at Lord Frampton’s? It would be a lovely way to show that you aren’t holding a grudge.”
“I can’t do that, Caro. I’ve already accepted Lord Rowley’s request. I can’t very well tell him no now, can I?”
“When did you accept him?”
“He sent around a lovely note the day after we spent that time together at the Academy of Arts. He repeated his request for the supper dance and told his man to wait for my reply. So I wrote him back on the moment,” Frederica said. “Was that wrong?”
“No, I suppose not,” Caroline said, wishing Mr. Sinclair hadn’t put such doubts in her head. She knew Oliver much better than she knew Mr. Sinclair. Oliver’s family and hers had been friends for generations; their country estates butted up against each other. It had only been a few weeks since Lawrence Sinclair first stepped into the Lovell House parlor. By those lights, she didn’t know him at all.
Discover his tragedy, her dressmaker’s apprentice had advised. Then you’ll know the man.
Caroline crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe she didn’t want to know him.
What little she did know cut up her peace quite enough, thank you very much. Mr. Sinclair made her stop thinking about the independent life she was sure she wanted. For days at a time, she’d forgotten about packing a trunk and sailing away and having adventures. She’d stopped pining for the foreign and unusual and found herself swamped in the everyday.
She couldn’t allow that.
Besides, Rowley had only asked Frederica for a dance, only the pleasure of her company at the supper to follow. Where was the harm? Mr. Sinclair would simply have to get over it.
Just as he’ll have to get over finding himself alone at three o’clock.