Page 9 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
He’d always been kind, had Henry, protective and generous to a fault. Never was Caroline more grateful that, of all the people who might have stumbled upon her in this desperate moment, it was her oldest and dearest friend.
But this Barnaby—Caroline studied him with growing unease. Yes, she knew him as the suitor of Henry’s sister, and Caroline’s friend Charlotte. Yet having had too much to drink, his true nature was on full display. The grip on her wrists had been unnecessarily brutal, and there was something cold and calculating in his eyes that suggested he was a man who enjoyed having power over those weaker than himself.
It seemed that he was not merely surly from drink, but genuinely cruel. She amended her assessment when he let out a harsh bark of laughter at her violent reaction to the strong spirits. The truth was, she’d never tried anything stronger than whatever had been used to flavor the Christmas cake, and the brandy burned her raw throat like liquid fire.
Her hands, mercifully released when Henry shot Barnaby a sharp look of disapproval, shook so badly that she had to bracethem on her knees while she coughed and spluttered like a drowning woman.
Henry straightened suddenly, his entire demeanor shifting. “We must go,” he said with startling abruptness. “Leave the lad to his own devices. He obviously belongs in these parts, and he’s caused us no real trouble. Someone must’ve been playing a malicious prank.”
Caroline stared in dismay. What? Henry was proposing to simply abandon her here? To leave her to fend for herself in the dark countryside? She glanced nervously at Barnaby, her instinctive dislike of his bullish neck and pugnacious expression intensifying. What was Henry doing in company with such a brute? Well, she supposed it was inevitable—if Barnaby was to marry Charlotte—that Henry would be obligated to accept him as family.
But with this bully at his side, Caroline dared not reveal her true identity. She had seen the cruel pleasure in Barnaby’s eyes as she’d choked on the brandy, felt the unnecessary force with which his large hands had gripped her wrists, leaving them red and throbbing. There was something deeply unsettling in his manner that went far beyond mere drunkenness.
“Please, sir, is there sumfink I can do to be of service to the fine gennelmun?” Caroline had always been an accomplished mimic, able to reproduce accents and dialects with uncanny accuracy. She’d often had Henry in fits of helpless laughter with her cockney slang or her imitations of their stuffy dancing master. Surely she hadn’t lost the skill, for he seemed completely taken in by her performance.
Thank the Lord for small mercies.
But he wasn’t taking the bait.
“Nothing I can think of, lad. We’ll leave you to find your own way home.”
“But… but…” Caroline looked about her with growing panic, her eyes widening as she took in their surroundings. The village was now nothing more than a distant speck of golden light, while all around them loomed the dark shapes of trees and empty fields.
As for poor Venetia, she had vanished completely, spirited away in that accursed carriage to God only knew what fate. When the sadistic coachmen had spotted Caroline in company with two gentlemen, they had obviously abandoned their cruel game and headed off towards the north road at top speed.
Now darkness was falling in earnest, bringing with it all the dangers that lurked in the countryside for the unwary and unprotected.
Caroline could under no circumstances be left to her own devices in such a precarious position, but how could she explain without revealing everything?
She cast a desperate glance toward the fading lights of the village. Even if she somehow made it back there safely, what then? Venetia was being carried away to an unknown fate while she stood here, helpless and utterly alone. The enormity of her failure was crushing.
Caroline frantically considered her options. If she revealed her true identity to Henry, he would be horrified. Oh yes, he’d certainly help her—of that she had no doubt. But at what devastating cost? He would be honor-bound to escort her home immediately, and any hope of rescuing Venetia would be lost forever. Worse still, if she revealed herself to both Henry and Barnaby, her reputation would be destroyed beyond any hope of repair. A young lady discovered in men’s clothing, unchaperoned in the night countryside with two bachelors… the scandal would be absolutely ruinous.
And Barnaby! The malicious pleasure she’d seen in his eyes when he’d bruised her wrists had confirmed every negativeinstinct she’d ever harbored about the man. In society, he managed to present a respectable facade, but here in the darkness, his true nature was emerging.
No, Caroline could never entrust Barnaby with such a dangerous secret. He seemed precisely the sort of man who would revel in holding such devastating power over a young lady of good family, and she shuddered to think what use he might make of the information.
Henry, however, was studying her more intently in the strengthening moonlight, his head tilted in that familiar way that meant his keen mind was working.
“Perhaps you are rather far from home,” he observed, his tone shifting to one Caroline recognized with growing alarm. “And that accent of yours seems to slip when you’re distressed.”
Caroline’s heart hammered against her ribs like a caged bird. She knew that particular tone all too well. It was the voice Henry used when he suspected mischief was afoot, the same one that had caught her out in countless childhood escapades. In all their years of friendship, he had always been the one to see through her schemes and stratagems.
Barnaby snorted with obvious impatience. “It’s enough. You’re right. Let’s leave the guttersnipe, Ashworth. We’ve miles yet to cover before we reach Gimley’s gathering, and you know how Charlotte bristles when we arrive late. She’ll have my head if I make her wait.”
The casual mention of Charlotte’s name steeled Caroline’s resolve like nothing else could have. If Barnaby was soon to become Charlotte’s husband, he would inevitably gain influence over Henry’s beloved sister—and, by extension, over Henry himself. Caroline had witnessed firsthand how marriage could alter the dynamics between old friends. Her own brother Frederick had become so absorbed in his wife and growingfamily after his wedding that he now allowed Caroline freedoms that would have been unthinkable merely two years before.
Now, she could not risk providing Barnaby with such dangerous ammunition against her—information that might one day drive an irreparable wedge between herself and Henry. Or worse, be used to manipulate and control her.
“I—I need to follow that carriage, sir,” she blurted out, desperation overriding caution. “The one that just departed. There’s someone inside who desperately needs help.”
Caroline held her breath, watching Henry’s face carefully. She could see his natural curiosity kindling, his ingrained instinct to help those in need warring visibly with whatever social obligations were pulling him towards this mysterious gathering with Barnaby.
If only she could speak to Henry alone, perhaps find a way to hint at the truth without completely exposing herself to Barnaby’s cruel scrutiny…
But the brute’s looming presence beside her dearest friend created an impenetrable barrier to honest communication. Under other circumstances, she would have trusted Henry with her life without a moment’s hesitation. But tonight, her beloved friend stood allied with a man she instinctively feared and despised. Until she could somehow separate them, her true identity must remain hidden at all costs.
Still, she could not—would not—remain here on this dark and dangerous country road, alone and utterly defenseless. Somehow, she had to find another way to appeal to Henry’s better nature, to make him understand the gravity of the situation without revealing the full truth.
