* * *
Once they left the theatre, Kate instructed her coachman to stop at her townhouse so that they could see if Eversham had left any word about the search for Effie’s coach. The news about the autographed advertisement was conveyed directly by Eversham, who met them at the door.
“We should definitely attend tonight’s performance so that we might survey the men in the greenroom,” Caro said once they’d discussed the likelihood of a connection between Effie’s disappearance and her work at the theatre.
“Wrackham has kindly invited us to join him in his family box,” Eversham said, an inscrutable expression on his face. “It’s all been arranged.”
“It’s unlike you to willingly agree to attend the theatre, my dear,” Kate said, turning to him with wide eyes.
“It’s related to an investigation.” Eversham shrugged. “Besides, I’ve never been in a private theatre box before. It should be entertaining.”
There was something suspicious about his smirk, but if Caro was to have time enough to wash and dress, she needed to get home. Bidding her friends adieu, she climbed back into Katherine’s carriage and was soon handing her hat and gloves to the Hardcastle family butler, Newton.
She’d barely made it past the entry hall when she heard her mother’s voice hurtling toward her.
“Caroline! Caroline!” Lady Lavinia Hardcastle cried, waving a piece of paper in the air, as she hurried down the thickly carpeted stairs. “You’ll never guess what’s happened. It’s as if the heavens have opened up and rained down good fortune upon us.”
Unaccustomed to her mother exhibiting such enthusiasm—which she considered unseemly most of the time—Caro stared up at her. “It must be a summons from the queen herself to have you in such raptures, Mama. I don’t believe I’ve seen you this pleased since Lady Altheston invited you to co-chair the summer fete in the village.”
Further surprising Caro, her mother clasped her to her bosom in a rare show of affection. She never doubted her mother’s love. But she’d never been what Caro would consider demonstrative. And she’d certainly never been one for impulsive embraces or giddy displays of glee. Indeed, if Caro ever dared behave in such a manner, she was roundly scolded. Pulling back from the cloud of her mother’s lily-scented perfume, Caro reached for the note clutched in her hand.
“Lord Wrackham has invited us to join him this very evening in the Duke of Thornfield’s box at the Lyceum Theatre,” Mama interrupted before Caro had even finished reading the hastily scrawled note.
“I will strangle him with his own neckcloth,” Caro muttered while her mother continued to chatter happily about the honor the viscount had done them. Had she not noticed that the invitation arrived only a few hours before the performance began? Or perhaps she had but then decided the condescension Wrackham had shown was far too fine a gift horse to look in the mouth.
Whatever imp of mischief had inspired Val to include her parents in his invitation when Caro could have easily attended tonight with Kate as her chaperone and the Hardcastles none the wiser, he deserved every bit of the tongue-lashing she intended to give him. She might be prone to impulsivity, but he certainly wasn’t. He would have known that sending the invitation directly to her parents would ensure that she’d have no choice but to spend the evening in his family box—which he likewise had to know would be abhorrent to her.
His brother might be gone now, but what he’d represented—the scorn heaped by the aristocracy upon families like hers—was still very much alive. The possibility of Val’s parents being in attendance filled her with dread. If they dared to utter a word of derision about the Hardcastles, Caro would not be held accountable for her actions.
“Mama, I don’t think—”
“You will wear the ivory Worth with the Hardcastle diamonds,” her mother said as they made their way upstairs, “and I will make sure Talbot takes extra pains with your hair. You are far too likely to rush her and the result always falls only moments after you leave the house.”
“Mama, you mustn’t think this indicates any sort of romantic intent on Wrackham’s part,” Caro warned once she was able to get a word in, as they reached the door to her bedchamber. “Kate and Eversham will be attending as well and I daresay the viscount was merely being polite by inviting us. Indeed, I shouldn’t think this sort of entertainment would be to Papa’s taste at all. Perhaps you should consider staying ho—”
“No, Caroline,” her mother said, interrupting her. “I will not let you dissuade me. I’ve begun to despair of ever finding a man willing to overlook your eccentricities. You know I love you, but you must admit that the way you cavort around town with that ill-behaved cat and insist on writing about matters of which no proper lady should ever speak aloud makes even the most adventurous of men shy away.”
Caro had heard all of this before, so she listened with half an ear as she went to find Ludwig, her mama following determinedly behind.
The enormous Siamese cat was curled up in the window seat in the sitting room adjacent to her bedchamber. On seeing his mistress, he stood and stretched, greeting her with a cry that sounded unsettlingly like a human baby’s.
“I do wish you could train Amadeus to behave like a normal cat, Caroline.” Her mother shuddered as she sat, uninvited, on the long sofa where Caro liked to nap occasionally. “It’s not natural for him to caterwaul like that.”
“His name is Ludwig, Mama, as you well know. And it’s characteristic of his breed. I can no more train him out of it than you can train Papa out of dropping his h’s.”
As Mama disliked being reminded that her husband hailed from less-than-elevated beginnings, she simply ignored Caro’s statement. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her husband. Theirs was a love match and Caro had—to her everlasting dismay—stumbled upon enough affectionate moments between them to know that their fondness had not dimmed with age.
Even so, her mama had never made a secret of her wish that her only child would make a brilliant match with a member of the aristocracy. Caro wasn’t sure if it was because she wanted to regain the standing she’d lost when she married her father, or if she wished to prove to her relatives that their daughter was just as worthy of marrying an aristocrat as anyone else. Though her mother’s family had never cut them off entirely, they had looked down on her ever since her marriage. Invitations from them were few and far between and Caro had never been close to her maternal relations.
“Your papa is quite enthusiastic to attend tonight, as well,” her mother continued as if Caro hadn’t even spoken. “He is keen to see Lord Wrackham again. Especially since the viscount is showing an interest. Though it’s too late for you to be choosy, Caroline. You’re nearly nine and twenty now. Far too long in the tooth to turn down an offer from the heir to a dukedom.”
“Mama!” Caro held up her hands to stop her. “There is no offer from Lord Wrackham. You mustn’t jump to conclusions all on the basis of one invitation to the theatre. My goodness. Your mind leaps with a speed that threatens my coiffure with its gust.”
“Do not be such a contrarian, Caroline.” Mama frowned. “I know you don’t like to hear it, but I want to see you settled and happy. I thought perhaps Lady Katherine’s marriage would encourage you to look toward finding someone, but there has been no indication of that.”