Page 72 of His Haunted Duchess
Frederic pulled her closer to him. He couldn’t listen to the words without some feeling of distance.
“And what did you tell him?”
A mischievous twinkle flitted across Caroline’s eye.
“I told him that you were very easy to look at.”
The deuce she did! He leaned down and kissed her again, this time on her crystalline brow.
“Maybe,” she said, hesitantly, “he was right. Maybe there is no such thing as curses. I—I want to believe it.”
CHAPTER 22
“Another parcel for you, Your Grace.”
Caroline took the package. She beamed so brightly that Carlyle could not help but reflect the rays of her enthusiasm.
Last night had been—-she closed her eyes, searching for words but finding all of the ones she knew insufficient to illustrate her contentment. Frederic’s kiss, the feel of his hand on her face, brushed away the bruises on her heart.
He had left this morning on his usual visits but not before kissing her once more at the door.
“I will return for tea this afternoon, darling.”
His lips met hers. Her whole body trembled, but she smiled happily and squeezed his hand.
“I will be waiting.”
And now, with this new package, she would have something to present to him! She looked at the clock. There was just time to prepare it, and she would do it with her own hands.
She opened the parcel and turned the little white flower over in her hands. This one looked a little different than the first but so close as to be nearly indistinguishable. It would make a lovely tea, as delicious and aromatic as the last one.
It had all been for nought, the distance she had tried to create. Truly she had tried to do well. She really had dreaded the dark tendrils of her curse. But the pleasure and complacency which she had denied herself waved reproachfully over the caution of the last few months like twin flags of surrender.
And how sweet a surrender it had been! How tender and close a welcome for which she had not allowed herself to hope! The desperate, anxious tenderness in his face had comforted her, consoled her for all of the emptiness she had ever endured.
How she wished she could write to Philip, to explain to him the powerful reconciliation that had occurred so recently after her assurance of her indifference. But, as would likely not be the last time, words escaped her, and she determined Philip would have to review the happy adjustments himself.
“Good morning, dear.”
Caroline smiled and curtsied.
“Good morning, Esther. Isn’t it a lovely one?”
Esther glanced questioningly at her.
“It is indeed,” she said slowly, seeking to unravel the mystery of Caroline’s blooming disposition.
Caroline blushed then blushed further. She had nothing to be ashamed of, but the color—despite her protests—continued to creep across her cheeks.
“Frederic—the duke—will return for tea today,” Caroline said hurriedly. “Won’t you join us?”
A knowing expression flicked across Esther’s face. If Caroline blushed any redder, she might be able to go out as a sunset. Esther bowed her regrets.
“I’ve promised Lady Bell a letter this morning, and I simply must attend to it. Thank you, though, for the invitation.”
She departed. She could think what she liked after all. Caroline comforted herself with thoughts of her husband—her husband. Her heart sighed so long over the words that she would have been tempted to shoo them away. But, they were so delicious, so wonderful to savor, that she permitted them to stay.
So caught up in daydreams was she that she didn’t hear Frederic enter the room behind her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she jumped then covered it with her own.
