Chapter Five
The carriage stopped outside an elegant townhouse in Bird Street, and a footman opened the door.
“I thought we were going to the party at East India House?’ said Caroline.
Francis jumped down from the carriage and offered her his hand. “Change of plans. Before I was advised of the delicate situation with Timothy Walters, I made mention to him of our plans for this evening. In light of that, I thought it might be prudent for you and I to attend Viscount Munroe’s party instead. I hardly think Walters will try and hunt you down if he discovers you are not at East India House.”
Once inside, Caroline fell into her usual routine. A small group of admirers quickly formed around her, but she felt safe with them. One or two of the bolder members of the group asked to place their names on her dance card, but the rest seemed more than content just to be close to her.
“I shall be in the cards room if you need me,” said Francis.
Caroline was about to remind her brother that as Harry was not present this evening, he was leaving her unchaperoned, but she thought the better of it. The idea of having an evening without Timothy, Harry, or Francis lurking nearby was suddenly quite liberating.
If pressed, Julian would have confessed to cowardice. Since Lady Margaret’s revelation that the former Dowager Countess Newhall was in town, he had steadfastly refused to attend any social functions. At the end of the week, Lady Margaret had finally called him on his behavior and ordered him out of the house.
Stepping into the ballroom of Viscount Munroe’s home, Julian held his breath. As a child, he had turned avoiding his mother into an artform. He called upon all those finely-honed skills once more as his gaze slowly scanned the room. He would do all he could to avoid having any contact with her.
You are a grown man, Newhall. When are you going to stop being afraid of your mother?
But the scars from his childhood ran deep, right to his bones.
He quickly sought out a footman and downed two large brandies in rapid succession. With the edge taken off his nerves, he slowly began to circulate, ever conscious of checking and rechecking the people around him. A trickle of sweat worked its way uncomfortably down his back.
A space had been cleared to one side of the main reception room for dancing, and he stopped to watch four couples as they stepped through a quadrille. The smooth motion of feet and swirling skirts moving in time, coupled with the brandy, soon calmed his mind.
He was still swaying gently with the music when the quadrille finally came to an end. To his surprise, the orchestra then quickly changed tempo and he caught the opening strains of a waltz. Other dancers now crowded onto the dance floor. In some quarters the waltz was considered scandalous, but its popularity in London high society continued to rise.
With an impending house party, it occurred to him that he would have to brush up on his footwork. It wouldn’t do to go stepping on the toes of any young ladies who may have it in mind to be his future countess. Crushed toes did not win hearts.
Lady Margaret’s plans for the house party were moving forward, and he was now reconciled to playing his part in securing the Newhall line. He would do all he could to make the event, and the search for his future countess, a success.
He was still in two minds as to whether to seek out a dance partner to practice his waltz, or indulge in a third brandy, when the decision was taken roughly out of his hands.
From out of nowhere, a hand appeared under his arm and he found himself being dragged toward the dance floor. When he looked down, he was shocked to discover that the owner of the hand was the same blond beauty who had insulted him in the hallway at the recent party. The very same woman who had told him to mind his own bloody business.
“Dance with me,” Caroline Saunders commanded.
Julian was the prisoner of the Ice Queen.
Words of protest died on his lips as they neared the edge of the dance floor. Across the ballroom, to the right of the orchestra, he caught sight of his mother. She was standing to the side, so had not yet seen him, but it would only take a small movement of her head for their gazes to meet.
The long years apart were swept away as he beheld the hard face of the Countess of Lienz. Her disapproving frown had now become permanent in the lines around her mouth.
Caroline tugged on his arm and he tore his gaze from his mother. Caught between his lifelong nemesis and the presumptuous beauty who held him captive, he immediately chose to dance. He would choose many other things before he would voluntarily speak to the countess.
He took hold of Caroline and spun her into the waltz. “We meet again,” he said.
She looked up at him and when their gazes met, he was certain he heard her curse under her breath. But to her credit, she quickly recovered. Impressive.
“Caroline Saunders, and you are Earl Newhall. Since this is the first time we have made proper introductions, I think we should both forget about our previous encounter. I know I certainly have done my best to put it behind me,” she replied.
He raised an eyebrow. She was a feisty creature, beyond just a little rude. He tightened his grip of her hand and was rewarded with a hard stare. “And yet you have chosen me to rescue you from something or someone. I cannot think of any other reason why you would pressgang a chap into dancing with you. Don’t tell me you inadvertently misplaced your group of sycophants this evening? How careless of you.”
The flash of anger which crossed Caroline’s face was deeply satisfying. “How dare you! Why I should . . .”
Her gaze drifted to something behind him, and she immediately fell silent. At the next turn of the dance, he checked to see where she had looked. Across the floor, some ten feet away, stood the same young man she had been arguing with at the party some days earlier. The man who had demanded that Caroline dance with him.What was his name? Thomas or something?Whoever he was, his gaze never wavered from Caroline.
“Your fiancé?” he asked.
