Page 72 of The Hired Hero
Well, thought Caroline, that was that.
She had managed to make a perfect cake of herself. Drat Jeremy for encouraging her to think the earl might harbor any feelings other than disapproval of both her character and her conduct. Her words—all of them—had merely shocked him, though by now, he should have gotten used to her unbridled tongue.
The only saving grace was that, in all likelihood, it hadn’t been possible to sink any lower in his regard. Still, Caroline couldn’t help but wonder what he had been about to say before the unfortunate interruption.
There had been something about his expression…
Another sigh slipped from her lips. No doubt he had merely been about to give her another set-down, spelling out in great detail her copious faults.
She was saved from having to dwell any further on such lowering thoughts as a smiling young gentleman stepped up to take her hand for the next dance.
* * *
Davenport watchedher being led out for yet another set and took a long swallow of champagne. It seemed that her dance card was, if anything, oversubscribed. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the cluster of eligible young lords hanging on her every move, more than willing to take up any slack in attentiveness. The chances of having a private word with her were dwindling with every passing note of the violins.
He forced himself to watch her movements—steps full of life, head tilted so that curling tendrils brushed the nape of her neck, hips swaying in a way that sent a rush of heat through him. Draining the rest of his glass did nothing to quench it.
Of course she would be surrounded by a bevy of admirers. She was an heiress—and a damnably attractive one, though most of the young louts probably didn’t understand that her appeal transcended mere prettiness. It was her indomitable spirit that had him near baying at the moon…
“Halloo, Julian. Quite the evening, eh? Enjoying yourself?”
Davenport started at Lucien’s words, then merely glowered at him.
“Glad you could make it,” continued the viscount cheerfully as he refilled both the earl’s glass and his own.
“Hmmph.” Davenport clamped his lips together, determined to avoid any conversation. He was not in the mood, nor was he in charity with the young man at the moment. If it wasn’t for Lucien, he would have been safely ensconced in front of his own hearth, with only his own visions of Caroline to torment himself.
Not her in the flesh.
Seemingly oblivious to the earl’s cool reception, Lucien drained his glass in one swallow and turned his eyes to his cousin.
“Jackanapes, all of them,” he announced as he watched a thin marquess with his hair cut a la Brutus lead Caroline through the steps of a country dance.
Davenport couldn’t hide a look of surprise.
Lucien smiled. “No bottom to any of ’em. They’re all scared to death of her. It wouldn’t do at all.”
“What wouldn’t?” asked the earl in spite of his resolve to remain indifferent to the viscount’s patter.
“No, it wouldn’t do at all,” repeated Lucien, as if he hadn’t heard Davenport’s question. “What she needs is someone who’ll have the sense to let her ride neck and leather with him. Granted, she’s a rare spirit and there are bound to be some clashes. The point is, I know it won’t be easy, but nothing worth having ever is.”
Davenport shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I believe you’re foxed.”
Lucien studied his empty glass. “I have probably drunk more than my uncle would have wished—but less than I intend to before the night is done. It is a celebration, after all.”
“Yes, Jeremy deserves it.”
“Indeed, he does. Jeremy took a chance. Bravo for him! He had the fortitude to pursue what he wanted, regardless of how daunting the odds might have seemed.” The bubbles in the viscount’s glass frothed up once again as he refilled it. “Here is to taking chances. Better to do that than to be a coward and wonder for the rest of your life about what might have been.” He threw back the contents and, with an enigmatic smile, left the earl in a state of even greater confusion than before.
Another glance showed Caroline twirling around in the arms of yet another gentleman, her graceful neck arched in laughter at some murmured pleasantry. Deciding that the evening was going from bad to worse, Davenport banged his own glass down and quit the ballroom to go sulk in the privacy of his own bedchamber.
* * *
Midnight hadlong since passed before Caroline was able to cry off from dancing. The number of guests was finally beginning to dwindle, and the musicians were showing signs of putting down their instruments for the last time. The evening had been a great success. Jeremy would no doubt find himself with more commissions than he could ever accept. So at least she had managed to be a positive influence in someone’s life, she mused as her eyes involuntarily darted to a certain corner of the ballroom.
Just as quickly, she chided herself for being such a goose. How silly to have thought he might have remained to finish off their conversation.
“Come, maybe this will lighten your spirits, cuz.” Lucien placed a glass of champagne into her hands, then slipped his arm in hers and led her to a more private spot. She was about to open her mouth in protest when he cut her off.
