Page 76 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
“But a dowry is not a substitute for love,” Lady Hogarth pointed out.
“Perhaps not always,” Lord Ainsley said.
Leo could see the amusement in Caroline’s eyes. She enjoyed starting this little fire.
When the meal was concluded and the guests invited to repair to the drawing room, Leo took his leave. He said a quiet good-night and thank you to Sir Walter. He stepped out of the drawing room door and almost collided with Caroline and another woman he’d already forgotten.
“Oh!” Caroline said, smiling up at him. “Are you leaving, then?”
“Je.”
“Excuse me,” the other woman said, and darted into the drawing room.
Caroline watched her flee with a laugh of surprise. “What do you suppose was the meaning of that?” She turned her smile to him again. “I hope you enjoyed yourself this evening, Your Highness.”
He wanted to kiss her. “Immensely.” He wanted to take her by the hand and lead her out of this place. He wanted to take her to his bed and remove her clothing one piece at a time.
“Shall I tell Beck you’ll come around?”
He didn’t answer. He had a sudden burn in his chest. He knew what she did not—that he would leave very soon, and with five women if he could manage it. And when he left, he likely would never return to England. At least not for a very long time. There didn’t seem much point going round to 22 Upper Brook Street again, except to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so much that his heart was beating like a drum in his chest.
Her smile turned brighter, almost as if she sensed the burning in him.
“I’ll come around. I must if I am going to enlist your help in gaining an invitation to the Pennybackers’ ball.”
“Oh dear. Has your invitation gone missing?” She leaned closer. “Are you a rake?”
“Guilty as charged.”
She laughed. She leaned forward, lifted her chin and murmured, “Find your own way to the Pennybacker ball.” With that, she moved away from him and in the direction of the drawing room. She brushed her fingers against his as she passed, and cast a smile at him over her shoulder before disappearing into the room.
He waited until he couldn’t see her anymore, then made his way to the door and received his hat and cloak from a footman.
Leo felt odd. Like his body didn’t fit his skin. He felt like something was blossoming in him.
He felt like he was falling in love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
One never knows what the sea wind may carry into London with it, but for a peacock with an eager wish to land a match, it has brought a gentleman who has been away from England’s shores for some time. Whether or not the gentleman desires a match remains to be seen.
Savile Row, a street for the most fashionable of addresses, has added a new clothier for fine gentlemen’s tailoring. Should one’s husband require formal evening wear, one simply must call on Mr. Henry Poole.
Ladies, perfume liberally scented with ambergris will mask the body’s unpleasant odors when the heat begins to rise.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and
Domesticity for Ladies
INTHEWEEKSthat followed the bad sea voyage and her terrible illness, Caroline had made some lovely dresses that were so well received that she’d gained a list of names wanting her creations. Dress forms and bolts of cloth and spools of thread filled her sitting room. Beck complained about it, but he stubbornly refused to hear any mention of her opening her own dress shop.
She was actively considering how she might maneuver around him.
“Fine ladies do not engage in trade, Caro,” Beck had huffed. “Leave that sort of thing to Mrs. Honeycutt.”
Caroline hadn’t argued with her brother—she’d learned that sometimes it was better to do and then seek his approval.
Today, on her way to pay her weekly call to Justice Tricklebank, she’d gone down Savile Row to have a look. Why should it be the street of bespoke tailoring only for men? She should very much like to have a dress shop with a lovely window on this street.
