Page 57 of His Haunted Duchess
“I haven’t seen you so invested in something since Carlyle proposed the thought of a riding club.”
“One can’t help but feel invested. Frederic comes home with the most engaging stories. So and so said this, and such and such did that. I’d love to experience it for myself.”
As, Caroline admitted to herself with a sigh, would she. Since their marriage, she and Frederic hadn’t yet attended a public function together. It was better that way and more suited to the mutual plan of distance and amiability they had established. Caroline smiled at Philip.
“It will come much sooner than you think—or it did for me, at least.”
Philip sighed and took comfort in another crumpet.
“What was it like? Your first ball?”
Caroline’s smile faded. She put her cup and saucer on the table. The memory crept over her like a shadow. The small, poorly attended ball her aunt had finally had the courage to go to.Poorly attended because word of Caroline’s past—her curse—had preceded her. Though no one would admit it, many of the patrons had remained at home that night rather than endure Caroline and the drooping satin flower Winifred had pinned to her bodice.
“My first ball wasn’t a happy experience,” she said, “but that was due to unusual circumstances. No doubt your first encounter will be far more amiable and far more spirited.”
Philip looked at her quizzically but didn’t press further.
“No doubt it shall. I’ve been privately practicing my steps and manners. Fortune favors the prepared.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows. The image of Philip grimacing before a mirror sprang unbidden to her mind.
“Have you, now? In what particulars?”
Philip colored, ever so slightly, at the temples.
“None so important as to be mentioned here,” he said with his nose in the air. “But suffice it to say, I’ve practiced them and am lying in wait for the day when I shall go out to attend such engagements on my own.”
Caroline pretended to be shocked.
“Surely you won’t attend balls and parties without your mother and me. Shall we be left at home?”
Philip sipped primly from his cup.
“It would do you well enough to know what I have suffered, listening to you neglect the opportunities when they are fully within your reach.”
Caroline’s smile extended no further than her face. Dread ruled her heart, whether she acknowledged its sovereignty or not. She could not forget the suffering, the agony of public exposure, however much her current life wore it away.
Her higher mind scolded her. Had she not visited, smiled, and cooperated as well as any other lady in the ton the last few months? Had she not returned each night, worn and ragged, after a full day of making calls and acquaintances? And yet. And yet?—
The fear still haunted her like a sore throat. The sting of past remembrances and rejections could be soothed, perhaps, by a few months of meager success, but they could hardly, in so short a time, be forgotten.
Gladly would she have retired from public life entirely, but her loyalty, first to her aunt and Winifred and second to Frederic—who, she felt, at least approved of the efforts she made to move into her new role—prevented her from giving up wholly.
“You’re welcome, of course, to remain at home with me and with Carlyle?—”
Caroline smiled at his hopeful tone.
“It’s the first ball I will have attended since—” Since the scandal, her mind reminded her. She cleared her throat, “—since my marriage.”
Philip stared at her in disbelief.
“Is it really? You and Frederic haven’t danced together for months then!”
He sounded as if the hens had got into the stables again and made havoc with Prince’s precious piles of hay. Caroline shrugged, keeping her eyes on the carpet.
“The Duke of Blackmore is very busy?—”
“—as is the duchess.”
