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She located him in the parlor, speaking to Lady Margaret over a cup of tea. The bigger parlor was for dancing, and the one across the hallway had been set up with refreshments. The baker had proved generous whenever the Reeves placed an order, in great charity with them after having earned so much through George’s indiscretion, so the tables were groaning under the sweets and savories laid out for a cold supper.
“I heard the cub come in,” he said before she could speak, and she relaxed. “Don’t worry—I’ll keep an eye on him and his friends. I’ll join their card party in a moment and make sure it doesn’t get out of control.”
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it with every fiber of her being.
He grinned. “Anything for a Reeve,” he said, and left for the garden.
Caroline didn’t know how she survived to the end of the night. It passed in a blur of heat and exertion and laughter and trouble. She was sure that more people kept arriving who she hadn’t invited, but it was difficult to keep track because her attention was pulled in a thousand different directions. There were indiscretions to interrupt in the sitting room between young people with less sense than discretion, there was a fight to break up between a couple of solicitors visiting from Kent, and Lady Margaret had dipped into the sherry and accidentally swung her fan into a slew of vases displayed in a cabinet, sending china shards flying.
But the depleted larder and tea caddy proved to Caroline that at least the evening had been well enjoyed.
Caroline went outside with a maid to extinguish the lanterns after the last of the guests had left. She found that the leg of the card table was broken, and at least one young man had cast up his accounts in the flower beds.
She would be hearing about this from the neighbors tomorrow.
Arabella put her hand on her shoulder. “This will go down in Inverley history.”
“The Reeve family shall be infamous.” Caroline tried to find the humor in it, but it was too depressing. “This party had been meant to show the town that we are ready for higher society, but once again it proved that our family chases chaos. The evening got rather out of control, didn’t it?”
“It was spirited,” Arabella said. “If people enjoyed themselves, then they will speak of the evening favorably.” She took her hand in hers. “Now—let’s go up to bed.”
* * *
Arabella had never thought of sunlight asloudbefore, but how else could she describe the pounding heat that poured in through the window the next morning? She flung her arm over her closed eyes, her head aching from an excess of last night’s wine. She tried to calm the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.
After all, the situation shouldn’t warrant panic. She was snuggled deep in a feather bed under a crisp linen sheet, while Caroline slept beside her. It should have felt idyllic.
Even in sleep, Caroline was elegant. She lay on her back, one hand resting beside her head, her glossy curls as pretty as if they had been purposefully arranged on the pillow. Her lips were barely parted as she breathed, and her lashes were dark against her skin. Arabella didn’t know how she managed to look so lovely. She had seen her own reflection in the mirror enough times in the morning to know that her hair was always tangled mess when she woke, with her cheek creased from the pillow.
Last night had been a great deal of fun. Too much fun, judging from her headache. It had been chaotic—Caroline had been right about that—but everyone had been in perfect charity. For once, Arabella felt comfortable at a social event. Everywhere she had turned, she saw a friendly face. There were no Martins skulking in the corners with little witticisms. There had been no snobby ladies from London to put down everyone’s dress.
And to be next to Caroline for the whole night had been wonderful.
But once again, none of this was hers. Just like her brother’s house was for Matthew and Rachel and their yet unborn babe, thistownhouse was for the Reeves. It was Caroline’s house. Her dinner party. Her bedchamber.
Lovemaking was more than she had ever dreamed they could have together. It was the culmination of wild hope and good fortune, and she would be forever grateful that she had taken on the role of the suitress and won a place in Caroline’s bed.
But it was all a good deal more…realthan she could have imagined.
Loving Caroline was more than kisses and intimacies. It was more than burning looks in a drawing room with the promise of slaking their lust afterward. It was more than stolen moments where they pressed against each other a little too often, held hands a little too tightly, or lingered a little too long while exchanging fans or teacups.
It was the reality of their thoughts. Their dreams. Their hearts.
It was terrifying.
Her dreams of love had been safe and pretty. Soft words, sweet kisses, gentle touches. There had never been any misunderstanding or confrontation.
She was discovering that a relationship was difficult, messy, and complicated.
But it was alsoreal. She hugged that fact close to her chest. Shouldn’t that mean she should be happy?
It was simply that her dream of Caroline was altogether different from the real woman in her bed who had worries and problems.
Caroline had changed since the inheritance.
Arabella had thought that money would help ease her burdens, but in many ways it had increased them. Why didn’t Caroline trust her enough to confide them in her? Arabella caught sight of her from time to time with a furrowed brow, and she always pushed it aside when Arabella asked her what was wrong.
Caroline seemed more determined than ever to do what was best for her siblings, but Arabella wondered if she was paying enough attention to their happiness.
