Val was a different man now. The loss of Caro had forced him to recognize letting his father and brother run roughshod over him without argument was tacit approval of their views. It was a mistake he’d not make again.
“Is there a betrothal?” Caro looked fixedly at the jeweled pin in his neckcloth. “I wasn’t jesting when I said we could find a way out. There’s no reason for you to go through with it because of my recklessness.”
“You weren’t reckless,” Val said softly, lifting her chin with a gentle finger. Her eyes, still shiny with unshed tears, met his with a trust he wasn’t sure he deserved. “You were trying to find your friend. That’s one of the things I most admire about you, Caro. You’re loyal to a fault. If there’s something to be done to protect those you love, you’ll do it without thought for the consequences for yourself.”
She smiled wryly. “Or consequences for those around me.”
“I know what I’m getting myself into.” He grinned. “This is one of those rare occasions where my honor and inclinations are perfectly aligned.”
As they spoke, they moved closer to one another, as if being pulled by an invisible thread. “May I kiss you, Caroline?” Val asked.
She touched her lips to his.
And stole a march on him for the second time that night.
* * *
She’d forgotten how soft his lips were.
They’d only managed a few stolen kisses over their brief abandoned courtship. She’d collected so many details of him from those days—his warm bergamot and lime scent, the feel of his strong arms, the firmness of his muscled chest against her bosom—but the wonder at that first touch of their mouths she’d forgotten.
There was no hesitation or unfamiliarity or newness. Though they’d spent the past few years apart, it was as if no time had passed at all.
Except that wasn’t quite right, Caro thought as she brought her hands up to cup his face, rough with evening stubble. She opened her mouth over his and reveled in the feel of his breath mingling with hers. She’d been shy about taking what she wanted back then, but she’d long ago given up that sort of wavering. She still longed for happy endings, but she knew now that they didn’t just happen—they were made.
Four years ago, they’d both been too impetuous and immature to talk through their differences. But if Val could learn from his mistakes, then so could she. This second chance was a gift and she would grasp it with both hands.
She returned every touch of his tongue with one of her own, a conversation without words. But when she gasped at his hand tugging at her bodice, the spell was broken. Val gave a low curse and laid his forehead on her bare shoulder.
“It’s late,” he said at last, setting her gown back to rights. As much as one could with a frock that had already been through the wars earlier that night. “Your mama will think we’ve eloped.”
He rapped on the roof of the carriage to signal the driver to take them back.
She was pleased to see he was just as breathless as she was, and for a moment, they smiled at each other like children who’d just carried out an elaborate prank.
Once the carriage came to a stop a few moments later, he kissed her quickly on the lips before hopping down. But instead of lowering the steps, he lifted her down himself.
Caro was quite sure she’d still be feeling the impression of his hands at her waist when she fell asleep.
“I’ll come by tomorrow to speak formally with your father,” he said, holding her loosely.
She frowned. “Did we decide to go through with this, then?” Caro knew they’d cleared the air between them, but was she truly ready to marry him? She swallowed, unused to the sudden rush of nerves that filled her at the notion. Before today, they hadn’t even seen one another in more than a year. She wanted him now, but how would she feel about him tomorrow?
He raised a brow. “Do you kiss men you have no intention of marrying like that?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t. Not that it should matter. Purity is a concept conceived of by men to control women, and if this were a just world, women could take lovers as men do—as often as they liked with no fear of shame.”
Another man might have complained, but Val nodded. “A good point. I’m not sure I’m up to a discussion of political philosophy at the moment, but remind me later.”
His kiss this time was sweet but brief, soothing Caro’s earlier doubts. They might have spent most of the last four years apart, but he was a good man. She could find happiness with him, she decided.
Val was smiling when he pulled away from her and said, “Now, go inside before I kiss you again. We both need sleep, and we still have to search for Miss Warrington tomorrow.”
With a pang of guilt, Caro realized she hadn’t properly thought of Effie since the theatre. At least she’d come to believe that Val was sincere in his wish to find her friend. He might also have his cousin’s interests in mind, but she no longer feared that he would do so at Effie’s expense. Perhaps once Effie was found, they could all sit down to dinner together and laugh over these adventures.
“Good night, my lord,” she said before hurrying up the steps.
“I like it better when you call me by my name,” she heard him say behind her. When she turned to look back, he was watching her from next to his carriage. “Sweet dreams, Caro.”
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Val found Frank in the breakfast room, looking far better than he had the day before.
“What did you learn at the Lyceum?” his cousin asked once he’d filled a plate and taken a seat across from him. A full night of sleep had clearly done Frank good. He still sported some unsightly bruises and moved with the carefulness of a man in pain, but his eyes seemed clearer and more alert.
Val filled him in on what they’d learned, placing special emphasis on Lord Tate and the argument James Harrison had overheard between him and Miss Warrington. He decided to keep what the young man had said about Langham to himself until he had a chance to confront the duke. He couldn’t be sure that Frank, in his current mood, wouldn’t search out Langham and beat the man to a pulp. Or try, given that his grace frequented Jim Hyde’s boxing club and was a head taller than Val’s cousin.
At the news about Tate, Frank cursed. “I knew I should have gone with her that evening! Father demanded I come for dinner with the family or I would have done.”
Val knew all too well how difficult it was to extricate oneself from a parental summons. He nodded in sympathy.
“Why wouldn’t she tell me about her encounter with the man?” Frank continued, his jaw clenched. “I could have ensured he left her alone.”
“We can’t really know until we speak to Tate and learn what he wanted.” When Frank put his napkin down and began to rise, Val raised a hand. “I think it would be better if you let me speak to him.”
“But if he knows what’s happened to Effie—” Frank began.
“Tell me the truth, Frank. Can you speak to the man and keep a civil tongue in your head? Or will you threaten him with bodily harm if he doesn’t tell you what you wish to hear?”
His cousin glowered.