But then he said, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

She didn’t have a good answer for him. A fever? If it was a fever, it was a new sort of fever, one that struck without warning and consumed her quickly.

He held up his hand, his palm facing her, as if he thought she would throw herself at him again. His eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted. He looked shocked. But he also looked dangerously aroused. “Never do that again,” he said in a low voice.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, and wheeled about, fleeing for the door. She leaped into the hall and nearly collided with Beck on his way back in.

“Caro?”

She ignored her brother, picked up her skirts and fled to her rooms with that kiss burning on her lips.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Invitations to Lord Pennybacker’s ball will be delivered by the end of the month. Alas, there will surely be those disappointed by the absence of an invitation in their post, as the number of persons desiring to attend has grown steadily through the month. Lady Pennybacker has said the ball will be limited to two hundred souls.

The Duke and Duchess of Norfolk have returned to their family seat as the duchess enters her period of confinement. The couple has enjoyed the calls of many notable personages, including Lord Hawke and his sister, who is much acclaimed for her beauty. So acclaimed, it seems, that a gentleman who is expected to formally enter an engagement of princely proportions in a matter of weeks invited himself along.

It is discovered by many that Lady Caroline Hawke’s talents have extended to dressmaking. Ladies in Mayfair are suddenly clambering to have an evening dress designed and fashioned by our dear friend. She has a unique talent for drawing on the English-and Alucian-style gowns and creating coveted garments. She is taking limited requests for the winter season.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

AFTER A FULL two days of torment, Leo couldn’t shake that kiss.

He was strolling alongside Beck as they toured the stable blocks, and while Beck maintained a stream of commentary about the accommodations for his Alucian racehorse, Leo kept thinking about his outrageous, remarkable sister.

That kiss appeared in his thoughts at the oddest times. When he was alone. In the middle of the night. At breakfast, at lunch, at tea with friends.

He was shocked she’d done it, shocked that she’d so brazenly presumed that she could. And then again, he wasn’t surprised at all. He was appalled by her insolence but also admired her pluck. He was angry that she’d taken the liberty but also damn well excited by it.

He was beginning to believe that he’d never met a more perplexing, confounding, beautiful woman in his life. He seemed to be feeling every emotion—good, bad or indifferent—that a man could feel about a woman.

He was also feeling a libidinous desire that was not responding to his usual attempts to keep it at bay. He wanted to do that kiss again. Only this time, he’d do the kissing, thank you.

He had to force himself to think of something else. He turned his attention again to the women he was trying to save. He had intended to speak to his old friend Norfolk about Jacleen at the supper party, but then the supper had been indefinitely postponed. If that bloody gazette was to be believed, it was because of him. It must be true, because more than one gentleman had laughingly congratulated him for his indiscreet call to Mrs. Mansfield’s “house.”

“Never knew a bloke who could draw so much attention to his activities,” said a man he knew only as Hornsby with a guffaw.

Mr. Frame, who had vigorously cautioned Leo about the need for discretion and a moral compass before leading him to Mrs. Mansfield’s house of ill repute, had a fat mouth.

Now Norfolk and his family were in Arundel, awaiting the birth of their fourth child. That made things more difficult—Leo couldn’t simply drop in on the duke in Arundel. One did not “pass by” a grand English estate in the country, particularly if one had no holdings in that direction... Herstmonceux notwithstanding.

But then Beck handed Leo a solution.

A few days after Caroline had kissed him senseless, Leo had joined Beck at their favorite gentlemen’s club for a spot of gin. Out of the blue, Beck began complaining about having to make a trip to Arundel. “The rains have been awful and left the roads almost impassable, I’ve heard. It will take a full day to get there.”

Leo looked up. “You’re to Arundel?”

Beck sighed. “I promised Caro. Lady Norfolk is her friend, and she’s made a dress or dressing gown or a bonnet, I don’t know what, for her time in confinement.”

“Norfolk is an old acquaintance,” Leo said casually. “We were at Cambridge together. I’ve spent a holiday or two at Arundel.”

Beck didn’t bite. He nodded pleasantly. “Grand place, isn’t it? I’ve known the old chap quite a long time myself.”

Leo sipped his gin. The taste was too bitter. “When will you go?”

“Thursday,” Beck said, and glanced at his watch.

Leo drummed his fingers on the table before them, thinking how to proceed. He could not recall another time he’d been in the position of having to ask to be included. It was he who was always fending off people who wanted to join his party. What a strange new world. He eyed Beck from the corner of his eye and thought what to do. He thought perhaps the best way to approach it was the most direct way. “Beck, my friend, would you mind terribly—”

“Don’t ask it of me, Leo,” Beck muttered.

“Pardon? But Henry is my old friend.”

Beck shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked around, as if seeking a footman, even though his glass was full. “Naturally, Highness, at any other time I would be delighted—”

“Ah. I’m a Highness again,” Leo said with a bit of a sardonic laugh.

Beck groaned. He rubbed his face, then looked Leo in the eye. “It’s his wife. Augusta is...reluctant.”

“Reluctant,” Leo repeated.

Beck leaned forward. “You’ve gained a bit of a reputation,” he said with an apologetic wince.

“No. Listen, Beck,” Leo said quickly. “The things that are said about me are not true. Well, not entirely true. That is, they are true, but not in the way you or Henry might understand. I know the supper party was postponed on my account, and I should like to set the matter to rest, with my old friend, if nothing else but for the sake of our friendship.”

Beck winced again. “She’s at the end of a pregnancy and, as I understand it, rather uncomfortable. I’d not want to give her any cause for more discomfort.”

“I won’t see her,” Leo promised. “Arundel is as big as a palace—it is entirely possible our paths need not cross at all. I will do my best to stay out of her way.”

Beck leaned back, bracing both hands against the table. He filled his cheeks with air, then slowly released it. “Yes, all right,” he said after a moment. “I don’t believe what is said of you. God knows worse has been said of me.” He paused. “Well. Not worse, for what is said of you is wretched. Pardon, but you understand. Yes, of course you must come, Leo. We men must stick together.” He smiled.

Leo didn’t think men needed to stick together. It seemed to him they had the upper hand in almost everything as it was.

“I ought to send a messenger,” Beck said. “I should let him know you’re coming.”

“No, no,” Leo said hastily. “He would tell his wife, and the anticipation might cause her undue anxiety. When I call, people tend to be concerned with propriety and having everything just so, as it were.”

“Ah,” Beck said, nodding sagely. “Of course.” He laughed. “I’ve quite forgotten you are a prince.”

Leo laughed, too. “I think so have I.”


CAROLINE COULDN’T KEEP the secret of that kiss another moment. She lasted an entire four days before she went to see Hollis and thought her restraint was rather remarkable given the extraordinary situation.

She wanted to kiss him again, but perhaps this time with his arms around her. She was confused by this desire—how could she feel such strong feelings for the worst sort of scoundrel? He was blithely seducing maids and walking out with women of the night! And then charming women like herself into bad behavior.

She arrived at Hollis’s house after a brisk walk, feeling as strong as she ever had and rather invigorated by the vexation with herself and that wayward prince. Hollis’s home was close by—her late husband, Sir Percival, felled by a muddy road and a carriage accident, had left his widow in very good circumstances. She lived quite comfortably near Hyde Park, in a very large house with minimal staff. It was true that a rich, attractive young widow was quite a lure, and gentlemen of all stripes had sniffed around Hollis in the almost three years she’d been widowed. But Hollis was never interested.

She knocked on Hollis’s door with her usual flair, a series of rapid-fire knocks. A few moments later Donovan opened the door. He stood casually in the doorway, his legs braced apart, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms. He was holding a silver teapot and worked to polish it as he looked Caroline up and down. “Good afternoon, Lady Caroline,” he said. “What a pleasure to see you in good health. I had heard you were all but dead.”

“Ha. It will take more than an ague to kill me, sir.”

He smiled. The man was simply stunning in his masculinity and good looks. “That’s the very reason I didn’t believe it. Do come in.” He stepped aside so that she could enter the foyer.

Caroline removed her bonnet and dangled it from one finger in his direction. “Donovan, on my word, you are an Adonis in the flesh.”