This time it was Caro who kissed Val, wrapping her arms around his neck to tell him how touched she was by his actions.
When they were both once again breathless, he set her away from him. “We most definitely need to plan this wedding for sooner rather than later.”
“Agreed.” Caro noted with amusement that she’d mussed his hair again.
Getting to his feet, Val gave her one last quick kiss. “I have to go before I maul you again. Besides, I want to speak with Eversham and see if he’s learned anything new about the man in the river. I’ll tell him what Flora discovered about the seal and our theories about Miss Warrington’s relations.”
“I suppose we should ask if he and Kate might be able to visit Brighton,” Caro said, though she was unaccountably disappointed at the notion. But it was selfish of her to delay any chance at discovering some important clue simply because she wanted to be the one to follow the lead. “You can make the suggestion.”
“I shall.”
He was almost to the door when Caro gave in to the urge to follow him and ask, “Do you think we’re making enough progress? I’m beginning to fear we may not find them. Certainly not before the wedding.”
The knowledge that she and Val—who were as much of a cross-class match as Effie and Mr. Thorn—would wed while her friend and his cousin’s lives hung in the balance made her deeply uncomfortable.
“Weren’t you the one preaching the doctrine of hope to me?” Val reminded her. “I haven’t given up on them yet. I know we’d both prefer to have them here with us, but the timing cannot be helped. And in the meantime, I’ll make some discreet inquiries about any likely candidates from the House of Lords. Perhaps you, Kate, and Miss Deaver can explore some of the families in Miss Deaver’s list? We’ll find them.”
Then, with one last kiss to her cheek, he was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Caroline and Valentine were married three days later at St. George’s Hanover Square—her mother had managed to secure the church with assistance from the duchess, who’d happily helped—with more friends and family in attendance than Caro had initially visualized.
But despite the ease with which she and Val had interacted in the days since their betrothal, neither of them had spoken of deeper feelings or hinted at the possibility of a return to the same tenderness they’d harbored when they’d first met. The kisses they’d shared proved the attraction was still there, but she was mindful now of how her own impetuosity had gotten her into trouble in the past. While Val had proven himself willing and able to stand up to his father on her behalf, it took time to rebuild trust. She had resolved to make the best of this marriage—even to enjoy the easy affection between them—but until she had full confidence in him, she would keep her heart to herself.
The wedding itself, however, did not fail to touch her.
As she’d intimated to her mother, she’d never dreamt of the day she’d wed, planning every last detail from the gown to the flowers and the breakfast afterward. But as she looked into Val’s eyes when they exchanged their vows, she found herself wishing she had. This occasion deserved to have been planned down to the last flower petal, and she was sorry she’d not spent more time preparing for it. Then the bishop was pronouncing them man and wife, and Val was smiling down at her, his blue eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine happiness, and she had no more patience for regrets of any kind.
The breakfast afterward was to be held at the Hardcastle townhouse. Once in the carriage to Belgrave Square, Valentine surprised her by pulling her into his lap and kissing her thoroughly. His enthusiasm was contagious, and despite her determination to behave with decorum on this of all days, she found herself kissing him back with equal delight.
“Have I told you today how lovely you are, Lady Wrackham?” he asked after a long interlude. “I like whatever it is you’ve done with your hair.” He lifted a finger to a ringlet that caressed her collarbone.
There had been no time to have a gown made up, but Caro had chosen to wear a Worth creation she’d been saving for a special occasion. The ivory silk went well with her dark hair and fair skin, and the scalloped bodice bared enough of her shoulders to feel daring while being entirely respectable. She’d felt beautiful as soon as she put it on, and Val’s admiration when he spotted her on her father’s arm had been gratifying.
“Not today.” Her heart turned over in delight. She might have promised herself to keep from falling back into love with him for now, but in the face of his sweet words, it was impossible to remain entirely unmoved. “I will be sure to relay your compliment to my maid.”
“But the compliment is meant for you, my lady,” he said, his clear blue gaze intent. “The same style on another woman would leave me cold.”
She should have ignored the small flattery, but Caro was uneasy with the exaggeration. “There’s no need for hyperbole.” When her heart fluttered again, she used his full name to put some needed distance between them. “I have no need for reassurances you won’t have a wandering eye, Valentine.”
He glanced up at her from where he’d been watching his finger stroke her shoulder. “Why would I have need to assure you of such a thing? Is there some question in your mind about my ability to remain faithful to my vows?”
All the playfulness in his manner was gone. He removed his hands from her bare skin and circled his arms loosely at her waist—as if merely ensuring she didn’t tumble to the floor.
“We both know this isn’t a love match,” Caro reminded him. However happy her parents’ marriage might be, she knew the same could not be said for others in genteel society. Val had shown himself willing to give her the protection of his name and to make a place for her in his aristocratic family, but she was mindful of the haste with which they’d come together. His friend Langham had been Nell Burgoyne’s lover and Val was no innocent—why was it unthinkable to imagine he might behave like other men of his class? “We may have been rubbing along well enough together of late, but I don’t have to tell you that we’ve barely had a civil word for one another these past years. I merely wished to assure you that there will be no need for false compliments or promises you may not wish to keep.”
Val lifted her away from him to sit on the opposite seat, and Caro felt the absence of his warmth like a physical loss. “We’re nearing Belgrave Square,” he said, looking out the window of the carriage.
“You agree with me, do you not?” Caro asked, somewhat surprised by his response. After all, he hadn’t professed his undying love to her any more than she had to him. She was merely trying to assure him that she would not expect more from him than he was willing, or able, to give her. And if a tiny voice said that this would keep her heart from breaking in the event that he ever did stray, well, that was neither here nor there.
“We should begin as we mean to go on,” she continued. “We’ll be much more comfortable this way.”
She said “we,” but Caro knew it was her own peace of mind she was trying to protect with her assurances.
“I’m not sure which sentiment I find more insulting.” His vehemence surprised her. “That you seem to take it for granted than I am incapable of fidelity, or that you did not include yourself in this proclamation. As if it is a given that you will have no trouble keeping your vows.”