Page 51 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
Naturally, Caroline told her everything. That’s why she’d come, after all—to unburden herself. She told Hollis about Beck’s new determination to see her married, and how he’d been lecturing her in his study, and how she hadn’t seen the prince in the room until it was too late. How she accused the prince of meddling and how he’d called her Caroline. She didn’t tell Hollis that when he said her name in that low, silky voice of his, it had curled around her like a warm silk wrap and held her there. She explained to Hollis that the act had been so impetuous, that it was almost as if someone else entirely had taken over her body, and she hardly realized what she was doing until she did it.
Hollis sat back, grinning with wonder at Caroline.
“Stopgrinningat me,” Caroline groaned.
“That was bold, even foryou, Caro. Do you think you’re in love with him?”
The question jolted Caroline. “For God’s sake, Hollis! Ofcoursenot.”
“Smitten, then. You must admit it, it was very kind of him to bring you flowers while you lay ill.”
“He didn’t bring flowers forme, he brought them for Ann. Honestly, I can’t abide him. He deserves Lady Eulalie, if you ask me. I can’t imagine why she’d want to bind herself to him.”
Hollis laughed. “Can’t you? She is binding herself to him for wealth and privilege, and he to her for political alliance.”
“But that’s not what marriage is for,” Caroline complained. “One should marry for felicity and companionship, not to keep from being murdered.” She plucked irritably at her sleeve. “I would avoid that sort of arrangement with all that I had.”
“You’re not a prince and you don’t believe in marriage in the best of circumstances,” Hollis said.
“That is not true,” Caroline insisted.
Hollis shrugged. “All right. You fear marriage.”
“I don’tfearit. Contrary to what you think, I should very much like to be married. But...” She winced. “I want to be wanted for me. Not for my looks. Or the size of my dowry. Those things can’t sustain a marriage.”
“You bring to mind Mary Pressley,” Hollis said thoughtfully. “She fell very much in love with Malcolm Byrd, and he supposedly with her, and she’s been terribly unhappy ever since.”
“He treats her like a dog,” Caroline said flatly. Mary was a childhood friend of Caroline’s. A sweet girl, who’d never wanted anything more than to be married and be a mother. She was courted by Mr. Byrd, who had charmed her down to her toes. She fell very much in love with him. She and Caroline would lie on Caroline’s bed and spend hours talking about Mr. Byrd, and what her wedding dress would look like and how many children she might have.
But the reality turned out to be quite different from the daydream. Malcolm Byrd was nothing like what he’d presented to Mary while courting her. He was a beast, he was cruel and he didn’t hesitate to strike Mary if she failed to please him.
Once, after Mary had given birth to her first child, Caroline had begged her to run from him, but Mary had laughed sourly. “And go where, Caroline? My elderly parents? I have no money, nothing to my name. He would never allow me to take our son. This is my cross to bear.” And then she had taken Caroline’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “You never know a person until you’ve shared a bed and a house. It’s impossible to know their true nature. Mind you, have a care.”
That stark warning had stayed with Caroline. Gentlemen would come to call, perfectly pleasant and polite gentlemen. But invariably, she would wonder about their true nature, and they certainly never inquired after hers. For every marriage like Hollis and Percival’s, or Eliza and Sebastian’s, she knew a story of another, darker marriage.
But she would concede that she did very much want to be loved.
“I think you should tell the prince how you feel,” Hollis said.
“How I feel about what? You’re mad, Hollis,” she said, and Hollis giggled. “I didn’t come here for that sort of advice.”
“You came because I am your confessor and your conscience. Want to go round and see Papa with me?”
“I’d love nothing better,” Caroline said, and sighed. “But I can’t today. Beck and I are to Arundel on the morrow. I promised Augusta I’d call. She’s terribly worried about being lonely. She has no one but her children to entertain her, you know.”
“Ooh,” Hollis said, her eyes rounding. “They may be the least entertaining children I know. Wild little beasts. Always carrying on about a pony.”
Caroline stood. She walked around the table to bend over Hollis and give her a hug.
“Farewell, darling! My love to Beck. See you next week, then?” Hollis asked as Caroline started out of the room.
“If not before!” Caroline called over her shoulder.
She grabbed her bonnet from the console where Donovan had placed it and walked out into bright sunlight. She looked up, blinking at blue sky. She didn’tlovePrince Leopold. Just because he was theonlyman in a very long time to have filled her imagination, or to have failed to notice her facade, or had seen past it, didn’t mean she lovedhim or held him in any sort of particular esteem. So why did the thought of him leaving England unsettle her so? Why should she feel a little bit bereft, a little bit remorseful and a little bit heartsick?
Because she was a fool, that was why, with a terrible habit of being attracted to rakes. She would think of the kiss often, but she would not miss him a moment after he’d gone.
She convinced herself that was true and even believed it...up until the moment he climbed into the coach that would ferry them to Arundel.
