Page 60 of His Haunted Duchess
“Well,” Frederic said slowly, “I suppose if I might also be permitted to select my own wardrobe for the occasion?—”
Philip laughed like a horse. Caroline put her cup down on the table.
“While I was certainly disinclined at first, I shall feel much more at ease with members of my own party in attendance.”
“I shall accompany you, then—” He bowed to his mother. “Both of you.”
It was terribly kind of him. No doubt he would rather have spent his time at home in the library. She put her hand on Frederic’s. He squeezed it then withdrew.
CHAPTER 19
“How much longer, Carlyle?”
The servant shrugged.
“Your mother claimed she was ‘nearly’ ready, Your Grace. I would guess, from previous experience, that she’ll be prepared to leave in a little above an hour.”
Frederic sighed.
“That is relatively soon, I suppose, in relation to when the preparations began.”
Carlyle wisely did not respond. Frederic threw a resigned glance to the timepiece on the mantel. Why, in the name of all the foxes in the hunt, did it take so long for ladies to prepare themselves for a ball? His mind flashed back to his childhood when?—
He closed his eyes. He remembered his mother preparing for other balls, it was true, but he also remembered his father, choleric and blowsy, pulling on a hat and hurrying out to the carriage, pursued by his wife’s tears. It didn’t do to dwell in the past.
“I’m—reminding myself and anyone who cares to listen,” he said, grumpily, “—that I did not want to attend this ball in the first place.”
Carlyle, in a truly magnanimous show of solidarity, bowed in agreement. He really was a good old sort, Frederic thought, amiably. He and Philip had adjusted well to having a lady around the house.
Up until this point, Frederic congratulated himself—except for that one night in the library—on having behaved with an exceptional level of decorum and civility. He and Caroline lived a most amiable and appropriate relationship, above board and amicable in admirable ways.
They maintained their relative social commitments and the visits due to their peers. He had been very pleased to see Caroline step into—or better said, stride forward towards—her new role as a duchess. She had done it—had done him—admirable credit.
Furthermore, they coordinated without a word of discontentment, even on matters of schedule when it came time to travel into London in the carriage. Both had been satisfied with friendly distance.
This ball—this ball, though—niggled at the edges of his consciousness. There was something about it—something that quickened his pulse and set his thoughts racing. But, no—it was just another social engagement, a formality, even—just another opportunity to see and be seen. And yet. And yet?—
Soft steps behind him announced her arrival.At last!He nodded to Carlyle, who left to signal the carriage, straightened his waistcoat, and turned from the table.
“Now that you’re sufficiently prepared, I assume, madam?—”
The words caught in his mouth. Caroline stepped forward. She was radiant—brighter than the stars in midwinter and more beautiful than any other woman he had ever seen.
“What a coincidence, Your Grace! Did you choose your vest to match my gown?”
Frederic looked down numbly. His vest—what did his vest matter? Oh—he saw what she meant now. He snapped his open mouth shut and cleared his throat.
“I did not.”
Carlyle, had he been anything but an old family servant, might have been accused of a certain levity, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. Frederic straightened in his chair.
“Are you prepared to depart, Your Grace?”
“Nearly, sir. I’ll just fetch my reticule. Is Esther here already?”
His mother, ready at last in a hurried twenty minutes, descended to the carriage. Frederic handed them both in and called directions up to the coachmen. He sank back into his seat with a sigh. What a relief to be on the way.
He dragged his thoughts away from the woman sitting next to him—his wife. At least, it could be alleged that he tried valiantly. His mother, wrapped in a shawl, stared out the window. Frederic’s eyes trailed back to Caroline’s face.
