“Go and get your things. Come round to the side of the house,” Leopold instructed Eowyn. “Take only what you can carry and speak to no one.”

The voices were drawing nearer. Caroline recognized Tom, Priscilla’s husband, and she was all but certain she heard Katherine’s voice, as well. “It’s too late! Hide, Eowyn!”

“Caroline!” Leopold said as Eowyn dove behind a chair.

There really was no place for the poor girl to hide. They would spot her right away, and they would assume the worst of her and Leopold. Caroline heard Farrington at the door. She knew instinctively the only way to hide that girl was to create a diversion. She ran to the prince. “I’m so very sorry,” she said, then threw her arms around Leopold with such force that he stumbled backward and had to catch her. Just as the door opened, Caroline kissed him. She kissed him with all the regret and longing she would carry with her the rest of her days.

Leopold returned her kiss with all his regret and longing. They were locked in a lover’s embrace. Their last embrace. Their last kiss.

Caroline heard Katherine’s cry of alarm, heard Farrington bellow for them to stop it at once. Caroline shoved away from Leopold and lunged toward the door. “It’s not what it seems!” she cried.

“Bloody hell, it’s not!” Farrington shouted. “And you, Highness, debauching this young woman!”

More people were coming, and Caroline moved toward Farrington. “I welcomed it!” she cried, and grabbed the man’s lapels.

“Caroline!” Leopold thundered and rushed after her. They all spilled into the hall, Caroline sobbing that she’d done nothing wrong, she’d merely followed her heart, and Leopold begging Farrington’s forgiveness. Everyone was shouting, Priscilla’s dogs were barking and Katherine was crying, which confused Caroline. Somehow, Hollis had reached her, had taken her hand and squeezed it, her face ashen and wide-eyed.

It was Beck who scared her the most. She’d never seen him so angry. He dug his fingers into her elbow and yanked her forward. She didn’t know what he said to their hosts—she tried to turn around, to see Leopold, but Farrington was railing at him, threatening him with the demise of good relations with Great Britain as he, too, tried to make his way to the entrance. And Priscilla, her good friend Priscilla, staring at her in horror. “In my house, Caroline? In my house?”

Somehow, Beck managed to force Caroline outside and into a waiting coach. She waited, fearing she would be ill, trying to see out the window at what was happening. But it was dark and she couldn’t make anything out. Several minutes later, Beck entered the coach, and he pounded the ceiling so hard she thought he’d put a fist through it.

“I can explain,” she tried, but Beck threw up a hand.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice deadly and low. “Not a word, Caroline. Not a damn word from you.”

They rode in an uncomfortable silence all the way home, and once there, Beck didn’t bother to help her from the coach. He leaped out and strode through the gate and up the stairs to his suite of rooms. The slamming of his door reverberated throughout the house.

Caroline slowly made her way to her room. Her legs felt heavy, and her heart ached. She fell listlessly onto the bed, facedown. She was exhausted, emotionally drained. She had ruined her reputation, she might never see Leopold again and she didn’t even know if Eowyn had escaped.

When the tears finally started to fall, they were not for her ruin. They were her grief at losing Leopold.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


Quite a few people have come and gone from a particular house on Upper Brook Street in the last two days. One might assume someone had taken ill. It is entirely possible that is true, given that the events at a friend’s house left many hard and confused feelings among close acquaintances.

Ladies, if your husband is experiencing lethargy and an unwillingness to work, a teaspoon of licorice root to one’s tea is guaranteed to restore vitality. Carsons’ Licorice Root is available in measured doses for the unsuspecting husband.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

CAROLINE CRIED HERSELF to sleep and into the night between tears and sleeping. On the following day, she was dragged awake by the sudden streaming of sun in through her windows. She threw an arm over her eyes and moaned. “What time is it?”

“One o’clock,” Martha said from somewhere across the room.

Caroline opened her eyes. They were swollen from sobbing, and her head felt as if it were caught in a vise. She slowly pushed herself up, and a curtain of hair shielded her view of Martha. “The most terrible thing happened last night, Martha.”

Martha didn’t speak at first. Caroline squeezed her eyes shut then pushed her hair aside and looked at her lady’s maid.

Martha gave her a piteous look. “I heard, madam. Another maid has gone missing, and the tale of how she went missing was quick to spread. They say it’s a love triangle.”

“A love triangle?”

Martha glanced away. “You, the prince, and the maid.”

“Oh, good Lord,” Caroline whispered. “I’m ruined, aren’t I?”

Martha didn’t dispute her. She sat next to her on the bed and put her arm around her shoulders as she’d done many times through the years. “Don’t fret, milady. His lordship will make it better.”

But Beck didn’t make it better. He couldn’t make it better, no matter how he might have wanted to. If he wanted to. He summoned her to his study later that afternoon. He looked older to her somehow. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, and the lines around them were more pronounced than she’d ever noticed before. She stood meekly before him, her arms wrapped around her body, equal parts ashamed and tired and defiant.

Beck sighed. “What am I to do, Caro? What, pray tell? Your reputation is in tatters. I went round to the club this morning and everyone had heard what happened at the Farringtons’.”

A shaft of light broke through the clouds and landed between brother and sister, like some sort of invisible barrier.

Caroline felt as if she’d climbed mountains. Her legs and arms felt wobbly. She sank onto a settee. “I was trying to help.”

“By seducing him? That’s what they will say, you know. The fault always is assigned to the female in these situations.”

“I didn’t seduce him. It wasn’t like that.”

Beck came around from his desk and pulled a chair up to sit before her. “Then what was it like? Tell me, Caro. Help me to understand.”

Caroline didn’t have the strength to spare Beck any detail. She told him everything—about the Weslorian girls and the terrible thing that had happened to them, and how Leopold was doing his best to save them. She confessed she’d fallen in love with Leopold, and that it wasn’t infatuation but true love, and he had come to feel the same for her. She told Beck that last night, when it looked as if Leopold would be caught and the girl sent off to her rooms and to God knew what sort of punishment, she’d done the only thing she could think of in the moment and created another scandal to cover the one blooming in that study.

When she had finished, Beck understood. He had softened considerably. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin as he looked at the window. “Why didn’t you tell this to Mr. Drummond when he called?”

“I didn’t know if I could trust him, and I wouldn’t do anything to harm Leopold.”

Beck spread his fingers wide on his knees. “Well, then. You’ll have to go away from London for a time.”

“Why? I won’t go out, I promise.”

“Caro...don’t you understand? I won’t allow to happen to you what happened to Eliza. This society you love so much is like a rabid dog. They will turn on you and pillory you at the slightest opportunity. You and Martha will go to our country home in Bibury, and hopefully, with the passage of time, the talk will ease.”

Her chest constricted painfully. She couldn’t imagine living in the country indefinitely. What would she do? How would she survive without friends? What about her dresses and her plans to open a dress shop? What about suppers and balls and gentlemen callers, all threads in the tapestry of her life? Who was she without those things? “But...but what of Leopold?”

“No, Caroline,” Beck said sharply. “I am sorry, darling, I know you love him. I’ve suspected it for some time, really. But you mustn’t ask about him, you mustn’t think about him. He is sailing tomorrow and he will not be back. His reputation is in worse tatters than yours.” He surged forward and grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I understand, darling. I’ve known heartbreak. But it will ease with time and a change of place. You will gradually think of other things.”

Caroline didn’t believe him. She couldn’t imagine she would ever think of anything but her prince.


HOLLIS CAME THE following morning. Beck met her in the grand hall and told her that now was not a good time.

“It’s never going to be a good time, Beck,” Hollis said. “Move aside.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to come into my home and order me about, Hollis Honeycutt?”

“I do, Beck! I do! She is a sister to me and I will not allow you to stand in my way.”

Beck huffed. “Why is it that you are incapable of listening to me?” he demanded. “Why are you all incapable of listening to me?” he called as she marched past him and up the stairs.

Hollis ignored him. Her face was upturned to Caroline, who had watched it all from above. “Darling!” she cried. “Oh, Caro.” She reached the first floor and looped her arm through Caroline’s, whirling her about and pulling her into Caroline’s sitting room, where dresses in various states of construction were lying and hanging about. She pulled Caroline down onto the settee, took both hands in hers and said, “Caro...he’s gone. He boarded the royal Alucian ship this morning with three maids and a boy.”