“It may be her opinion, but it’s wrongheaded,” Lady Debridge said. “A woman’s good years are limited, and she must marry sooner rather than later if she is to produce an heir.”

Caroline laughed. “That’s rather my point,” she said. “Why should I marry for the sake of producing heirs if I don’t wish to produce them?”

“Oh Lord,” Lady Hogarth muttered. “Caroline, darling—”

“What are you saying, precisely, Caroline?” the Peacock said, sitting a little straighter.

“I think the topic too indelicate for the supper table?” Sir Walter tried.

“Of course it’s not, Walter,” his wife said. “We’re all adults here, are we not? That is the way of the human race. You marry, you produce heirs and life goes on. Why ever would any young woman of good health and moral standing wish otherwise? Lady Caroline, surely you don’t mean to imply that you don’t want children?”

“Not at all,” she assured Lady Debridge. “Of course I do.”

But the words didn’t match her expression and Leopold rather wondered if she really didn’t want children.

“The truth is that I haven’t given it much thought, as I have not yet found the gentleman with whom I should like to share that blessed event.”

“Darling, look around you,” Lady Debridge said. “There are gentlemen here tonight that would delight in sharing that blessed event with you, I’ve no doubt.”

Several of the guests laughed. Caroline smiled as she looked around. “Such admirable gentlemen, too. But I should hope that a gentleman’s interest in me would extend beyond the size of my fortune.”

There were audible gasps around the table. Leo almost laughed. Once upon a time, he would have led the way in the gasping and gnashing of teeth and the outward display of indignation at her cheek, but this evening, he sat back to enjoy it. The woman refused to guard a single word. He admired her for always being willing to speak the truth.

Even now, she looked around at their shocked faces. “I beg your pardon, have I spoken too bluntly? I probably should not have said what we all know to be true.” She laughed softly.

“Caroline,” her uncle said sternly. “Have a care.”

“I will, Uncle.” She smiled and leaned forward. “But whose feelings am I sparing? If anyone should be offended, it should be me, shouldn’t it?”

“Oh my Lord!” Lady Hogarth said heavenward.

“What you say may be true, Lady Caroline,” the Peacock said. “After all, the only reason anyone in London knows the size of your dowry is that you’ve made certain of it.”

“Not me. But I can’t say the same for my brother.”

Someone at the table chuckled.

“Well, I, for one, have no regard for your dowry, Lady Caroline,” Lord Ladley avowed.

“I should think Prince Leopold has no regard for it, either?” the Peacock said, and cast a smile at Leo. “It must be rather small compared to what he might command.”

Lady Debridge snorted a laugh. “The prince is not a suitor, Katherine.”

“As I said,” Ladley interjected. “I don’t care about the size of your dowry.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Caroline responded.

“For what it’s worth, I agree with Lady Caroline,” the viscount said quietly. “A dowry is an important part of a marriage bargain, and the amount must be taken into consideration. Any gentleman who claims otherwise is fooling himself,” he said, and looked pointedly at Ladley.

“But a dowry is not a substitute for love,” Lady Hogarth pointed out.

“Perhaps not always,” Lord Ainsley said.

Leo could see the amusement in Caroline’s eyes. She enjoyed starting this little fire.

When the meal was concluded and the guests invited to repair to the drawing room, Leo took his leave. He said a quiet good-night and thank you to Sir Walter. He stepped out of the drawing room door and almost collided with Caroline and another woman he’d already forgotten.

“Oh!” Caroline said, smiling up at him. “Are you leaving, then?”

“Je.”

“Excuse me,” the other woman said, and darted into the drawing room.

Caroline watched her flee with a laugh of surprise. “What do you suppose was the meaning of that?” She turned her smile to him again. “I hope you enjoyed yourself this evening, Your Highness.”

He wanted to kiss her. “Immensely.” He wanted to take her by the hand and lead her out of this place. He wanted to take her to his bed and remove her clothing one piece at a time.

“Shall I tell Beck you’ll come around?”

He didn’t answer. He had a sudden burn in his chest. He knew what she did not—that he would leave very soon, and with five women if he could manage it. And when he left, he likely would never return to England. At least not for a very long time. There didn’t seem much point going round to 22 Upper Brook Street again, except to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so much that his heart was beating like a drum in his chest.

Her smile turned brighter, almost as if she sensed the burning in him.

“I’ll come around. I must if I am going to enlist your help in gaining an invitation to the Pennybackers’ ball.”

“Oh dear. Has your invitation gone missing?” She leaned closer. “Are you a rake?”

“Guilty as charged.”

She laughed. She leaned forward, lifted her chin and murmured, “Find your own way to the Pennybacker ball.” With that, she moved away from him and in the direction of the drawing room. She brushed her fingers against his as she passed, and cast a smile at him over her shoulder before disappearing into the room.

He waited until he couldn’t see her anymore, then made his way to the door and received his hat and cloak from a footman.

Leo felt odd. Like his body didn’t fit his skin. He felt like something was blossoming in him.

He felt like he was falling in love.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


One never knows what the sea wind may carry into London with it, but for a peacock with an eager wish to land a match, it has brought a gentleman who has been away from England’s shores for some time. Whether or not the gentleman desires a match remains to be seen.

Savile Row, a street for the most fashionable of addresses, has added a new clothier for fine gentlemen’s tailoring. Should one’s husband require formal evening wear, one simply must call on Mr. Henry Poole.

Ladies, perfume liberally scented with ambergris will mask the body’s unpleasant odors when the heat begins to rise.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

IN THE WEEKS that followed the bad sea voyage and her terrible illness, Caroline had made some lovely dresses that were so well received that she’d gained a list of names wanting her creations. Dress forms and bolts of cloth and spools of thread filled her sitting room. Beck complained about it, but he stubbornly refused to hear any mention of her opening her own dress shop.

She was actively considering how she might maneuver around him.

“Fine ladies do not engage in trade, Caro,” Beck had huffed. “Leave that sort of thing to Mrs. Honeycutt.”

Caroline hadn’t argued with her brother—she’d learned that sometimes it was better to do and then seek his approval.

Today, on her way to pay her weekly call to Justice Tricklebank, she’d gone down Savile Row to have a look. Why should it be the street of bespoke tailoring only for men? She should very much like to have a dress shop with a lovely window on this street.

The other thing that had happened in those weeks after Eliza’s wedding was Leopold. Oh, but she was a blessed fool for involving herself with him. Had it been Hollis or Eliza in her shoes, she would have strongly cautioned them against getting caught up with someone like him. Well, she had cautioned Eliza, but Eliza had stubbornly followed her heart, and look where that had gotten her.

But Caroline was not Eliza, and Leopold was not his brother, and Caroline knew she was walking on the very edge of a cliff. But she’d meant what she’d said—life was so boring if one didn’t gamble a bit.

On this bright, sun-filled day, she had to swallow down a giggle every time she thought of him. She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t help anything where he was concerned.

When she reached the judge’s modest home, she fairly leaped from the carriage and jogged up the steps to the door, rapping a staccato burst of eagerness that sent Jack and John, the two terrible terriers, into paroxysms of alert. Their barking sounded like an entire kennel on the other side of the door.

Poppy opened the door. Poppy had been a housemaid since Caroline was a girl and was really more sister than servant. Her face lit with delight, and she threw her arms around Caroline, smashing Jack and John between them as she hugged her tightly. “I thought you’d all but forgotten us! Oh, but we’ve missed you, Lady Caroline. The judge asked about you just yesterday. ‘Has Caro forgotten us,’ he said.”

“How could I ever forget any of you?” Caroline exclaimed as she squatted down to greet the dogs properly with a good scratch behind the ears. “I’ve been terribly busy. So many engagements.” She sighed loudly, as the work of attending soirees and supper parties was as taxing as pulling a plow. “I’ll confess, Poppy,” she said as she gained her feet, “I seem to be in vogue this summer. It’s not unlike my debut. You remember that, don’t you? It seemed as if suitors and callers were falling out of the ceiling rafters.”

“I don’t remember that exactly, no,” Poppy said thoughtfully. “But of course you’re in vogue. Look at you!” She held Caroline’s arms wide to see her gown. “Did you make this dress? It’s stunning.”

“I did indeed. I mean to make you one, too, Poppy. I think a dark red would suit you. But you’ll have to wait until the end of the summer season—the invitations come one after the other,” she said breathlessly as she followed Poppy down the hall.