“Ludwig,” Caro said, lifting the cat close to her chest, “what are we going to do with him?”
As if Ludwig knew she was speaking of his mortal enemy, the cat hissed and jumped down.
Clearly, Caro thought with exasperation, all the men in her life were determined to be as troublesome as possible today.
Chapter Six
Since his invitation had included an offer to convey the Hardcastles to the theatre, Val was there to help Caro into his carriage after her parents had climbed in.
“You won’t know when it’s coming, Valentine,” she said under her breath as she took his hand, “but I will have my revenge.”
Deciding his best course of action was blithe ignorance, Val pretended he hadn’t heard her and set about making himself agreeable to Caro’s parents.
They’d met before, at both his brother’s nuptials and various social functions, so there was no discomfort on his part, and however annoyed Caro might be, she didn’t seem to wish to discomfit her parents. The quartet passed a pleasant interval on the drive. When they disembarked before the theatre, they were met by Eversham and Kate.
Once greetings had been exchanged all around, they made their way through the throng of ladies in their finery and gentlemen in evening dress toward the Thornfield private box.
Val was surprised to find an attendant from the theatre already waiting in the private antechamber outside the box. He’d requested refreshments earlier but generally wait staff wasn’t sent up until after the guests had settled in their seats.
“The duke and duchess are already inside, my lord,” the young man said with a bow.
Though in his mind he was uttering a list of curses that would make even the saltiest of sailors blush, Val kept his reaction as bland as he could muster. “Ah, excellent. Thank you.”
“I believe the phrase is ‘hoist with your own petard,’ is it not?” Caro asked pleasantly as he escorted her on his arm into the alcove overlooking the stage and the ground floor of the theatre. “Or is it ‘boiled with your own pudding’? Whatever the saying, I must say it was worth my own discomfort to see your face lose all color for that barest moment. Though really, you’re quite good at maintaining your composure. Well done.”
He was saved from responding by the necessity of presenting his guests to his parents.
“My dear boy,” the Duchess of Thornfield said as Val bent to kiss her cheek, “I had no notion you’d be here tonight. And who are your guests?” It was clear from the way her eyes had lit up that she’d drawn exactly the wrong conclusion from the Hardcastles’ presence here.
“Mama, you will remember Mr. Charles Hardcastle and his wife, Lady Lavinia, from Piers’s wedding. And, of course, their daughter, Miss Hardcastle, is a school friend of Cynthia’s.” He had no doubt that his mother recalled exactly who the family was. Her pretending not to recognize them was her way of putting them in their place.
“Of course.” The duchess allowed Mr. Hardcastle to bow over her hand, then nodded as his wife dropped a short curtsy. To Caro, his mother said, “Miss Hardcastle, how do you do? It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Val took that moment while everyone exchanged greetings to get a good look at Caro for the first time that evening. With her father seated beside him in the carriage, he hadn’t been able to take in the exquisite totality of her appearance. Her gown, a gauzy confection constructed of layer upon layer of a silvery metallic fabric picked out with blue flowers, emphasized her tiny waist and the soft curve of her hips and made him long to pull her close and explore the way the bodice gently cupped her ample bosom. She’d also done something different with her hair. The Caro he’d known wasn’t much for elaborate hairstyles, but tonight her tresses were gathered up on the crown of her head with a cascade of ringlets dipping down to kiss the nape of her neck.
Reminding himself that her father was with them—and that his own parents had been added to the mix—Val steeled his mind against further appreciation of her attire and turned his attention back to the conversation.
“We are always happy to welcome a friend of Valentine’s, my dear,” Val’s father said, bowing over Caro’s hand. “Indeed, we were just discussing how—”
Before his father could finish, Val broke in with what he hoped was an easy laugh. At the same time, he tried to convey a message saying stop talking to the duke with his eyes. The last thing he needed was for his father to remind them of Val’s prior infatuation with her. “My father is always encouraging me to bring more guests to the theatre.”
Caro looked from Val to the duke and back before saying in a puzzled tone, “How nice of him?”
He was saved from further uncomfortable conversation by Kate, who stepped forward to introduce Eversham to his parents. Giving Caro his arm, he led her to a pair of seats in the row behind where her parents now sat.
“What were you thinking?” Caro hissed once they were seated. This close to her, he could feel the warmth of her skin through her gown and smell the clean floral scent of her perfume. What had she asked?
“Val.” She glared. “You know how much my mama wants to see me married into the aristocracy. She might not go so far as to force me into marriage but she will remind me about this invitation every day until the end of time. Have you forgotten that we tried this once before and decided we would not suit?”
“I acted impulsively,” Val hissed back, the confession of his capriciousness filling him with shame. “Once Eversham and I saw the signed advertisement, we knew we needed to come here tonight and keep a watch on the greenroom.”
He turned to face her, knowing that he should be looking her in the eyes. “If you must know, I was afraid you’d refuse to attend in my box unless I sent the invitation to your parents. I knew your mother was unlikely to turn it down and that she’d persuade you to come even if I couldn’t.”
Fortunately, there was enough ambient noise around them that their conversation was relatively private. A circumstance for which Val was grateful. He suspected Caro was about to give him the sort of setdown that would leave his ears blistered for years to come.
But rather than anger, he saw chagrin, followed by some other nameless emotion in Caro’s eyes. It was all the encouragement he needed to speak the words that he knew he must if they were ever to move forward from their past.
“It was no doubt silly to do so without discussing it with you first,” Val said, his usual aplomb all but deserting him, “but your anger today reminded me of what my brother said that night.”
Her eyes narrowed and he realized he’d been clumsy. “Not that I agreed with him but that I wished to make amends. To truly prove to you that I don’t agree with him, nor have I ever.”
Caro stayed silent, but Val was relieved to see that her expression had softened.
“I thought having you and your parents here in my family’s private box,” he continued with a slight shrug, “would demonstrate to you—and the rest of the world—that I don’t give a hang about where your father was born or where his money came from.”
Caro looked away and Val felt every second until she turned back to him. “Thank you,” she said, her brown eyes dark with emotion. “Your gesture is”—she paused—“appreciated.”