Page 63 of His Haunted Duchess
“I am honored.” They settled back into their places in the dance. “The gentleman of the ton must surely be lacking in basic intelligence if they wasted such an opportunity.”
She stepped forward and twisted past him, staring gratefully for a moment into his eyes.
He could press his lips to hers, pull her close to him, like he had that day in the library. But a moment, but a space between them, and then?—
She moved past him, settling into her spot in the set. Frederic blinked.
“Surely this isn’t your first dance, Your Grace?” she asked, playfulness dancing in her voice.
Frederic chuckled.
“No, certainly not. I’ve been attending balls in earnest since my father—” he paused. She glanced at him but said nothing. He blessed her for her tact but continued. “My father and I—we didn’t have a rapport.”
The dance carried them forward. Her eyes softened and spread their softness to his heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That must have been so—lonely.”
“I didn’t want an heir in case—” The words he had spoken so infrequently choked him. He swallowed them and tried again. “More than anything, I didn’t want to become like him.”
There. He had said it. Relief flooded him and—on its tails—an odd anxiety. Caroline’s hand took his as they came to rest at the bottom of the set.
“You truly are the best man I’ve ever met.”
She meant it. He felt it in his chest that she did. His heart swelled like a ship’s sails in a morning vesper, expanding until it pounded on the door of his denial.
He did have feelings for her—feelings that were more than just amiable, more than just civil. The rich, passionate seeds of lifelong regard had bloomed, against his inclination and even against his best efforts.
The dance started again, moving them further down the room.
Frederic noticed no other couple. He traced Caroline’s profile—content, her hand reaching out for his. What did the whispers and rumors matter? What did the comments and gossip matter? So long as she was with him—so long as she stood by his side—the ghost of his father would haunt him no longer. He need not fear following in those steps.
For the first time in many years, Frederic smiled with his entire soul. Perhaps—perhaps soon, in the future sometime—he could have a child. Would it have Caroline’s hair? Or her beautiful, expressive eyes?
If they did have a child together—perhaps, just perhaps—it might not be so bad a thing as he had previously thought.
CHAPTER 20
“Apackage for you, madam.”
Caroline looked up from her book. It wasn’t uncommon for her to get mail, but packages were somewhat less frequent. She took the little parcel from Carlyle’s hand and opened the attached letter.
My dear,she read, when I came across this herb, I couldn’t help but think of your situation and how wonderfully it would influence your nightmares. In fact, it might relieve you of them entirely.
Caroline frowned. The handwriting was not familiar to her. Who in the world, aside from her aunt, Winifred, and Frederic, knew about her nightmares?
I’ve asked a new maid to write this note for me. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, and it helps me so much to have the assistance. Well, I’m off to the stables. Enjoy the tea!
How thoughtful! Caroline opened her aunt’s package. A small, aromatic herb met her eye—it reminded her of chamomile. She looked at the clock. She had just enough time to make the tea before the afternoon’s picnic. Winifred and Philip were to join her, and it would be a lovely treat for all of them.
She unwrinkled her dress, a light cotton muslin that brushed away the throbbing summer heat. The foxgloves outside the windows bobbed gently in the afternoon breeze. Caroline carried the tea to the kitchen but met Carlyle in the front hall.
“Would you mind delivering this to Cook?” she asked. “I would dearly love to serve this tea at the picnic.”
“Did someone say cook?”
Philip popped his head into the front entryway. Caroline laughed.
“We’ll have treats enough soon. You’re still coming to my picnic, aren’t you?”
