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“Yes, but if they snub me—” Caroline jerked a thumb back toward the music room “—others will take their cue and do the same, especially once the old gossip starts again. I should return home this instant and save myself the humiliation.”
“Sor—Lord Wincanton would never be so discourteous!” Eleanor flushed with embarrassment over the slip, but went on. “Besides, you are part of my circle, and I have many friends—friends who value my opinion far more than any gossip. One of them is sure to fall in love with you.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“With all my heart,” Eleanor replied, and she meant it. “I will do everything in my power to help you end the Season with a ring on your finger. But you must be careful. I beg you to heed my advice and conduct yourself at all times with the utmost decorum and dignity.”
All remaining stubbornness faded from Caroline’s eyes. “You’re right, of course. This is my third year out, and I doubt my parents will deign to spend another shilling to promote me. I cannot afford to make any more mistakes.” She sighed wistfully. “Countess would have been lovely, but I prefer to become a mere ‘Mrs.’ over spinsterhood.”
Eleanor repressed a sigh of relief. Thank the Lord, Caroline was finally seeing sense! And it was good to see some of her tart humor coming back as well. “If it makes any difference at all, I believe your chances of making a happy match are much better without a title getting in the way. A woman who marries too far above her rank must deal with unhappy in-laws and their disdainful friends,” she advised. “But a man need not have a title in order to possess wealth and status.”
“Yes, well you needn’t worry the more,” said Caroline, her manner once more all business. “An undertaker could bend his knee to me this minute and I would accept him with gratitude—provided he has adequate means, of course,” she added, ever pragmatic.
“And send your poor mama into a faint,” Eleanor teased, glad to see her respond with a smile. “While I applaud your newfound enthusiasm, let us not be too hasty. I would not wish you to bind yourself to anyone unworthy.”
Caroline’s chin lifted a fraction and the fire returned to her eyes. “I may have adjusted my standards down somewhat, but they have not sunk to accepting anything less than an honorable man with a sufficient living.”
“Good. But I still think you’ll have better luck than to accept an undertaker’s offer—especially when one considers that I know none.”
Her words elicited another smile, this one mischievous. “A butcher’s son, perhaps?”
“Heaven forefend. But truly, I think any gentleman would be lucky to have you for a wife.” Except Sorin. Eleanor repressed a pang of guilty satisfaction over her successful intervention. This had nothing to do with jealousy. He would certainly be glad of the change, and she wouldn’t have to watch Caroline destroy herself socially.
Caroline bowed her head and Eleanor heard a suspicious sniffle. “You are a good friend to say it. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, Ellie. Can you forgive me?”
Eleanor embraced her. “There is nothing to forgive.” A clock chimed softly in the room. Bloody hell, it was nearly ten.
“We’ve been gone far too long,” said Caroline, giving voice to her worry. “Lady Ashford will be furious. How will we ever explain ourselves?”
“We shall have to manufacture a plausible excuse for our absence.” Eleanor looked down with regret at her beautiful aqua gown. Reaching back, she grabbed a handful of silk, closed her eyes, and yanked.
Sorin watched with disquiet as Eleanor all but dragged her friend from the room.
“That’s certainly put it in the fire,” sighed Marston. “No doubt we’ve just missed a nasty scene. I remember Miss Caroline as having a particularly volatile disposition. I hope your Lady Eleanor is able to calm her down and bring her to her senses.”
My Lady Eleanor. He hoped so, too. The look on the redhead’s face had been nothing short of murderous. “I’m confident she will manage.”
“As she’s managed you?”
Heat crept up Sorin’s neck. “I merely meant that she’s a very competent and capable person.”
“Naturally. One would only expect the daughter of a duke to be so.”
A snort broke free before Sorin could stop it. “If you knew how ridiculous such an assumption is—I’ve had the opportunity to meet many dukes’ daughters and found the majority of them vacuous, shallow, and uninspiring. I would trust very few with anything more important than arranging the dinner menu. Eleanor is…different. She would make a formidable duchess.”
“Or countess, perhaps?” bantered Marston, clearly enjoying himself.
Sorin would have answered him smartly, but Rowena was coming over to join them with Charles in tow.
“I must apologize,” she said with an awkward smile. “I can only assume Eleanor and her friend have encountered some sort of difficulty requiring their hasty departure. I’m sure neither of them meant to be rude.”
“Of course not,” he said, rising. “Unfortunately, we must also depart. Tonight’s dinner and entertainments really have been a delight, but we must be going. Marston has agreed to accompany me to Holly Hall tonight and go on a hunting excursion with me tomorrow morning. One last parting shot, as you might say, before we take ourselves off to London.”
Marston gave him a sharp look, but held his tongue.
“But you cannot go now,” said Rowena, her tone one of worry. “Night has long since fallen, and it is far too dark to ride.”
Smiling, Sorin cast a glance toward the long windows of the music room. “There is a good moon out tonight, nearly full, and I’ve ridden across these lands my entire life in both daylight and darkest night. There is not an inch between here and Holly Hall that I do not know intimately.”
