“By then it would be too late for him to do anything about it,” her mother pointed out pragmatically. “And I would not call it a deception, Caro dear. After all, everyone must try to present herself or himself in the best light possible . . . that is what courtship is all about. The trick is to disguise all the unpleasant little faults that may put a man off, and maintain an air of mystery until you have finally landed him.”
“No wonder I have never caught a husband,” Caroline said with a faint smile. “I’ve always tried to be open and honest with men.”
Her mother regarded her sadly. “I do not know where you have gotten these ideas, dear. Honesty has never fanned the flames of a man’s ardor.”
“I will try to remember that,” Caroline replied gravely, fighting the temptation to laugh.
“THE CARRIAGE IS HERE,” Fanny said with a squeal, staring out the parlor window at the vehicle moving along the front drive. “Oh, it is so fine! All that red lacquer and a Salisbury boot and crane neck, and what a fine large wrought-iron baggage rack. And no less than four outriders. Hurry, Caroline, do come and have a look.”
“I had no idea you were so versed in the features of carriage construction, Mother,” Caroline said dryly. She joined her mother at the window, and her stomach clenched with anxiety as she saw the Rochester coat of arms on the side of the carriage. It was time for the charade to begin. “Where is Cade?” she asked.
“In the library, I believe.” Fanny continued to stare out the window, enthralled. “That dear, dear Lord Drake. Of all Cade’s acquaintances, he has always been my favorite.”
Amused despite her nervousness, Caroline laughed. “You didn’t even remember who he was until I told you!”
“But then I recalled how much I liked him,” Fanny countered.
Smiling wryly, Caroline wandered from the parlor to the small library, where her treasured collection of books was neatly stacked in the mahogany cases. Cade was at the sideboard, pouring a snifter of brandy from a crystal decanter.
“Are you ready to depart?” Caroline asked. “Lord Drake’s carriage is here.”
Cade turned with a glass in hand. His features, so like her own, were stamped with a scowl. “No, I am not ready,” he said sourly. “Perhaps after I drink the rest of this bottle, I will be.”
“Come, Cade,” she chided. “One would think you were being sent to Newgate instead of attending a weekend party with friends.”
“Drake is no friend of mine,” Cade muttered. “He has seen to it that I am deprived of everything I enjoy. I’m not welcome at any hazard table in town, and I have not been invited to a single damned club for the past two weeks. I’ve been reduced to playing vingt-et-un for shillings. How will I ever earn enough to repay my debts?”
“Perhaps working?”
Cade snorted at what he perceived was a great insult. “No Hargreaves has occupied himself with trade or commerce for at least four generations.”
“You should have thought of that before you gambled away everything Father left us. Then we wouldn’t have to attend this dratted weekend party, and I would not have to pretend interest in a man I detest.”
Suddenly shamefaced, Cade turned away from her. “I am sorry, Caro. But my luck was about to turn. I would have won back all the money, and more.”
“Oh, Cade.” She approached him and slid her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his stiff back. “Let us make the best of things,” she said. “We’ll go to the Scotts’ estate, and I’ll make calf eyes at Lord Drake, and you’ll make yourself agreeable to everyone. And someday Lord Drake will be back in his father’s will, and he will take care of your debts. And life will return to normal.”
Suddenly they were interrupted by the housekeeper’s voice. “Miss Hargreaves, Lord Drake has arrived. Shall I show him to the parlor?”
“Is my mother still in there?” Caroline asked.
“No, miss, she has gone upstairs to put on her traveling cloak and bonnet.”
Wishing to avoid being alone with Drake, Caroline prodded her brother. “Cade, why don’t you go welcome your friend?”
Evidently he was no more eager to see Drake than she. “No, I am going to show the footmen how I want our trunks and bags loaded on the carriage. You be the one to make small talk with him.” Cade turned to glance at her, and a rueful grin spread across his face. “It is what you will be doing all weekend, sweet sister. You may as well practice now.”
Giving him a damning look, Caroline left with an exasperated sigh and went to the parlor. She saw Andrew’s tall form in the center of the room, his face partially concealed as he stared at a landscape that hung on the wall. “Good day, my lord,” she said evenly. “I trust that you are . . .”
Her voice died away as he turned to face her. For a fraction of a second, she thought that the visitor was not Andrew, Lord Drake, but some other man. Stunned, she struggled silently to comprehend the changes that had taken place in him. The long, trailing locks of his dark hair had been cut in a new short style, cropped closely at the nape of his neck and the sides of his head. The alcoholic bloat of his face was gone, leaving behind a marvelously clean-lined jaw and hard-edged cheekbones. It seemed that he must have spent some time out-of-doors, for the paleness of his skin had been replaced by a light tan and the touch of windburn on the crests of his high cheekbones. And the eyes . . . oh, the eyes. No longer dark-circled and bloodshot, they were the clear, bright blue of sapphires. And they contained a flash of something—perhaps uncertainty?—that unraveled Caroline’s composure. Andrew seemed so young, so vital, remarkably different from the man who had stood with her in this very parlor just a fortnight ago.
Then he spoke, and it became evident that although his outward appearance had changed, he was still the same insufferable rake. “Miss Hargreaves,” he said evenly. “No doubt Cade has seen fit to tell you that I have upheld my part of the bargain. Now it is your turn. I hope you’ve been practicing your love-struck glances and flirtatious repartee.”
Somehow Caroline recovered herself enough to reply. “I thought all you wanted was ‘the appearance of pleasant companionship’ . . . those were your exact words, were they not? I think ‘love-struck’ is a bit much to ask, don’t you?”
“This past week I’ve gotten a complete accounting of Cade’s debts,” he returned grimly. “For what I’m going to have to pay, you owe me ‘love-struck’ and a damn sight more.”
“You have yourself to blame for that. If you hadn’t taken Cade along with you so many evenings—”
“It’s not entirely my fault. But at this point I’m not inclined to quarrel. Gather your things, and let’s be off.”
Caroline nodded. However, she couldn’t seem to make herself move. Her knees had locked, and she strongly suspected that if she took one step forward, she would fall flat on her face. She stared at him helplessly, while her heart thumped in a hard, uncontrollable rhythm, and her body flooded with heat. She had never experienced such a response to anyone in her life. Awareness of him pounded through her, and she realized how badly she wanted to touch him, draw her fingertips down the side of his lean cheek, kiss his firm, cynical mouth until it softened against hers in passion.
It can’t be, she thought with a burst of panic. She could not feel such things for a man as immoral and depraved as Andrew, Lord Drake.
Something in her round-eyed gaze made him uncomfortable, for he shifted his weight from one leg to another, and shot her a baleful glance. “What are you staring at?”
“You,” she said pertly. “I believe all your buttons have been fastened in the correct holes. Your hair appears to have been brushed. And for once you don’t reek of spirits. I was merely reflecting on the surprising discovery that you can be made to look like a gentleman. Although it seems that your temper is as foul as ever.”
“There is good reason for that,” he informed her tersely. “It’s been two weeks since I’ve had a drink or a wh—a female companion, and I’ve spent nearly every day at the family
estate in the proximity of my father. I’ve visited with tenants and managers, and I’ve read account books until I’ve nearly gone blind. If I’m not fortunate enough to die of boredom soon, I’m going to shoot myself. And to top it all off, I have this damned weekend to look forward to.”
“You poor man,” she said pityingly. “It’s terrible to be an aristocrat, isn’t it?” He scowled at her, and she smiled. “You do look well, however,” she said. “It appears that abstinence becomes you.”
“I don’t like it,” he grumbled.
“That is hardly a surprise.”
He stared down into her smiling face, and his expression softened. Before Caroline could react, he reached out and plucked her spectacles from her nose.
“My lord,” she said, unsettled, “I wish you would stop doing that! Hand those back at once. I can’t see.”
Andrew extracted a folded handkerchief from his pocket and polished the lenses. “It’s no wonder your eyes are weak, the way you go about with your spectacles smudged.” Ignoring her protests, he polished them meticulously and held them up to the light from the window. Only when he was satisfied that they were perfectly clean did he replace them on her nose.
“I could see perfectly well,” she said.
“There was a thumbprint in the middle of the right lens.”
“From now on, I would appreciate it if you simply told me about a smudge, rather than ripping my spectacles off my face!” Caroline knew she was being ungrateful and thorny-tempered. Some part of her mind was appalled by her own bad manners. However, she had the suspicion that if she did not maintain a strategic animosity toward him, she might do something horribly embarrassing—such as throw herself against his tall, hard body and kiss him. He was so large and irascible and tempting, and the mere sight of him sent an inexplicable heat ripping through her.
She did not understand herself—she had always thought that one had to like a man before experiencing this dizzying swirl of attraction. But evidently her body was not reconciled with her emotions, for whether she liked him or not, she wanted him. To feel his big, warm hands on her skin. To feel his lips on her throat and breast.
A flaming blush swept all the way from her bodice to her hairline, and she knew his perceptive gaze did not miss the tide of betraying color.
Mercifully, he did not comment on it, but answered her earlier remark. “Very well,” he said. “What do I care if you walk into walls or trip over paving stones when you can’t see through your damn spectacles?”
IT WAS THE most peculiar carriage ride Andrew had ever experienced. For three hours he suffered under Cade’s disapproving glare—the lad regarded him as an utter Judas, and this in spite of the fact that Andrew was willing to pay all his debts in the not-too-distant future. Then there was the mother, Fanny, surely one of the most empty-headed matrons he had ever met in his life. She chattered in unending monologues and seemed never to require a reply other than the occasional grunt or nod. Every time he made the mistake of replying to one of her comments, it fueled a new round of inane babble. And then there was Caroline sitting opposite him, silent and outwardly serene as she focused on the ever-changing array of scenery outside the window.
Andrew stared at her openly, while she seemed completely oblivious to his perusal. She was wearing a blue dress with a white pelisse fastened over the top. The scooped neck of her bodice was modest, not revealing even a hint of cleavage—not that she had much cleavage to display. And yet he was unbearably stimulated by the little expanse of skin that she displayed, that exquisite hollow at the base of her throat, and the porcelain smoothness of her upper chest. She was tiny, almost doll-like, and yet he was spellbound by her, to the extent of being half-aroused despite the presence of her brother and mother.
“What are you looking at?” he asked after a while, irritated by her steadfast refusal to glance his way. “Find the sight of cows and hedges enthralling, do you?”
“I have to stare at the scenery,” Caroline replied without moving her gaze. “The moment I try to focus on something inside the carriage, I start to feel ill, especially when the road is uneven. I’ve been this way since childhood.”
Fanny interceded anxiously. “Caroline, you must try to cure yourself of that. How vexing it must be for a fine gentleman such as Lord Drake to have you staring constantly out the window rather than participating in our conversation.”
Andrew grinned at hearing himself described as a “fine gentleman.”
Cade spoke then. “She’s not going to change, Mother. And I daresay that Drake would prefer Caro to stare at the scenery rather than cast her accounts all over his shoes.”
“Cade, how vulgar!” Fanny exclaimed, frowning at him. “Apologize to Lord Drake at once.”
“No need,” Andrew said hastily.
Fanny beamed at him. “How magnanimous of you, my lord, to overlook my son’s bad manners. As for my daughter’s unfortunate condition, I am quite certain that it is not a defect that might be passed on to any sons or daughters.”
“That is good news,” Andrew said blandly. “But I rather enjoy Miss Hargreaves’s charming habit. It affords me the privilege of viewing her lovely profile.”
Caroline glanced at him then, quickly, rolling her eyes at the compliment before turning her attention back to the window. He saw her lips curve slightly, however, betraying her amusement at the flattery.
Eventually they arrived at the Scotts’ estate, which featured a house that was reputed to be one of the most attractive residences in England. The great stone mansion was surrounded with magnificent expanses of green lawn and gardens, and an oak-filled park in the back. The row of eight stone pillars in front was topped by huge sparkling windows, making the facade of the building more glass than wall. It seemed that only royalty should live in such a place, which made it rather appropriate for the family of Logan Scott. He was royalty of a sort, albeit of the London stage.
Caroline had been fortunate enough to see Scott perform in a production at the Capital Theater, and like every other member of the audience, she had found Scott to be breathtaking in his ability and presence. It was said that his Hamlet surpassed even the legendary David Garrick’s, and that people would someday read of him in history books.
“How interesting that a man like Mr. Scott is your half brother,” Caroline murmured, staring at the great estate as Andrew assisted her from the carriage. “Is there much likeness between you?”
“Not a farthing’s worth,” Andrew said, his face expressionless. “Logan was given a damned poor start in life, and he climbed to the top of his profession armed with nothing but talent and determination. Whereas I was given every advantage, and I’ve accomplished nothing.”
They spoke in quiet murmurs, too low to be heard by Cade and Fanny.
“Are you jealous of him?” Caroline could not help asking.
Surprise flickered across Andrew’s face, and it was clear that few people ever spoke so openly to him. “No, how could I be? Logan has earned everything he’s gotten. And he’s tolerated a great deal from me. He’s even forgiven me for the time I tried to kill him.”
“What?” Caroline stumbled slightly, and stopped to look up at him in astonishment. “You didn’t really, did you?”
A grin crossed his dark face. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it. But I was drunk as a wheelbarrow at the time, and I had just discovered that he had known we were brothers and hadn’t told me. So I cornered him in his theater, brandishing a pistol.”
“My God.” Caroline stared up at him uneasily. “That is the behavior of a madman.”
“No, I wasn’t mad. Just foxed.” Amusement danced in his blue eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I plan to stay sober for a while . . . and even if I weren’t, I would be no danger to you.”
The word sweetheart, spoken in that low, intimate voice, did something strange to her insides. Caroline began to reprove him for his familiarity, then realized that was their entire purpose for being here—to create the impress
ion that they were indeed sweethearts.
They entered the two-story great hall, which was lined with dark wood paneling and rich tapestries, and were welcomed by Mr. Scott’s wife, Madeline. The girl was absolutely lovely, her golden brown hair coiled atop her head, her hazel eyes sparkling as she greeted Andrew with youthful exuberance. It was clear that the two liked each other immensely.
“Lord Drake,” Madeline exclaimed, clasping his hands in her own small ones, her cheek turned upward to receive his brotherly kiss. “How well you look! It has been at least a month since we’ve seen you. I am terribly vexed with you for remaining away so long.”
Andrew smiled at his sister-in-law with a warmth that transformed his dark face, making Caroline’s breath catch. “How is my niece?” he asked.
“You won’t recognize her, I vow. She has grown at least two inches, and she has a tooth now!” Releasing his hands, Madeline turned toward Cade, Fanny, and Caroline, and curtsied gracefully. “Good morning, my lord, and Lady Hargreaves, and Miss Hargreaves.” Her vivacious gaze locked with Caroline’s. “My husband and I are delighted that you will be joining us this weekend. Any friends of Lord Drake’s are always welcome at our home.”
“You always despise my friends,” Andrew remarked dryly, and Madeline gave him a quick frown.
“Your usual ones, yes. But friends like these are definitely welcome.”
Caroline interceded then, smiling at Madeline. “Mrs. Scott, I promise we will do our best to distinguish ourselves from Lord Drake’s usual sort of companions.”
“Thank you,” came the girl’s fervent reply, and they shared a sudden laugh.
“Wait a minute,” Andrew said, only half in jest. “I didn’t plan for the two of you to become friendly with each other. You had better stay away from my sister-in-law, Miss Hargreaves—she’s an incurable gossip.”