He knew what she really was.
How had she become that, though?
She’d never thought of herself as a careless person.
She had, since the ladies had retired to the drawing room, occupied herself with a bit of sewing as the matrons discussed the pineapple in great detail. Nobody had paid much attention to her, other than Lady Easton requesting that she play when the gentlemen came in. She was happy to agree to it, as she was exhausted from talking and she really did not wish to speak to Lord Bertridge. Or worse, there be an opportunity for him to speak to her.
Her thoughts were promptly interrupted by the drawing room doors opening. The gentlemen were coming in. They had not spent long over their port. Or perhaps they had and she had lost track of time as she fretted.
In any case, she would make all haste to the pianoforte and stay there for the rest of the evening.
She had already chosen music as she did not care to invite any help over to her in a search. She had been pleased to find several of Pleyel’s sonatas, they being far easier to master without heavy concentration than most of Lady Easton’s collection of music.
Caroline began to play, hoping that the lords and ladies would not stay too long over cards. It was probably a hopeless sort of hope, though, as it appeared the duchess and Lady Heathway and the duke and Lord Heathway were in the long habit of playing against one another and eager to begin. Both of those ladies possessed more vitality than one would expect from a matron, and neither of them appeared to be flagging in the least.
As she played, she glanced round the room from time to time. She noted that Lord Bertridge was paired with Lady Redfield to play Sir Benjamin and Lady Smithson. She suspected he was not happy about it. According to Lady Easton, Lady Smithson was prone to prattle on about her grandchildren as if they were the most interesting people in the world. As for Lady Redfield, she was positively ghastly at cards—her own baron had refused to partner with her when he’d lived.
The time passed, inching along slower than time had ever moved before. Caroline felt the heaviness of her feelings wearing out her strength. In truth, there were moments when she’d felt almost dizzy, and she had to use all her concentration to keep the keys in focus. Her body was tired, but it was her spirit that was entirely exhausted. All she could do was keep playing and pray for her bed.
One hour passed, then two. Caroline’s fingers felt shaky on the keys and she had taken to breathing in deep to steady herself.
A commotion of people rising caught her attention and she stopped her playing. It seemed Sir Benjamin and Lady Smithson would depart, as they were to set off for York very early in the morning.
Caroline stood and curtsied from where she was, as the last breathless conversations about the pineapples were had amidst the goodbyes.
She gratefully sank down on the bench again after they’d gone, assuming Lord Bertridge would be left to play piquet with Lady Redfield. Though, if poor Lady Redfield could not manage whist, she had no idea what the lady would do with piquet.
Instead, Lady Redfield picked up a book and Lord Bertridge looked in Caroline’s direction.
She prayed he would not come toward her. But her prayers were not answered and he did, stopping at the instrument.
Caroline did not look up, but rather pretended she must concentrate on her playing. She could not bear to look at him and see the condemnation in his eyes.
“Miss Upton,” he said in low tones, “though I would not burden my aunt with what I observed this day, I will go so far as to burdenyou. As you are well aware, you were spotted at the exhibition with your maid, somewhere in the attics of The Ship Inn. Do you dare deny it?”
“I do not,” Caroline said softly.
Lord Bertridge was silent for a moment and though Caroline did not look up she could feel the heat of anger coming from him.
“I do not understand how you can be so careless of other people,” he said. “Of my aunt, and of poor Lady Redfield. Do you have no concern for anybody? Are you so selfish that you would disregard my aunt’s feelings after what she has done for you? Are you so thoughtless, that you would cause Lady Redfield hours of worry and exhaustion? Are you so heedless that you would allow the good lady to imagine that you had equally exhausted yourself in search ofher, all the while viewing an exhibition that was wildly inappropriate for you to attend?”
“It is all true,” Caroline said quietly. “I will tell Lady Easton everything on the morrow. I know she will send me away and she will be quite right to do so.”
“And there you do it again,” Lord Bertridge said. “Whose feelings willthatassuage but your own? Do you imagine my aunt will rejoice simply because you have decided to confess?”
Caroline did not know what to think of that statement. What else was she to do but tell Lady Easton the facts of the matter? It was true that the lady would be made unhappy, but she owed her a full explanation. She deserved what would be the consequences of her awful behavior.
Or perhaps she might just inflict the consequences on herself, without disturbing the lady’s peace any more than she had done.
She rose and said, “I will claim an illness which must force me to go home.”
“You will do no such thing,” Lord Bertridge said heatedly. “You will work to be a credit to my aunt and give her the satisfaction that she has worked for and deserves. At least do that much for her.”
As his words poured over her like boiling water, the room began to sway. Caroline steadied herself with a hand on the pianoforte, but the room would not right itself. She felt herself falling into darkness.
*
Caroline woke tofind herself in her bed, Lady Easton chafing her hand and Bemmy applying a cool compress to her forehead.
