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“You always have the right idea, Bell. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Didn’t Caroline know why she was always so eager to help? Wasn’t it clear from her face? The longing and the love must be as naked as the day in her eyes.
Caroline’s face was bright, her bonnet tipped back, her strong, capable hand stroking Byron.
She wanted that hand onher. Strokingher.
Arabella decided thinking things through wasn’t helping her. It never had when it came to Caroline. She leaned down and pressed her lips to Caroline’s, savoring her sweet gasp and then the touch of her tongue against her own, the warmth of her face from the sun and the scent of the sea mixed with her lemon soap.
It wasn’t as dramatic a kiss as the one they had shared after dinner. This was lighter and sweeter and shorter, a little more like her fantasy kisses, but the sizzle in her belly told her that it stoked her desire all the same.
Caroline blinked up at her, her lips parted and her eyes round, and Arabella settled her skirts around her as she sat back down on her rock. “A kiss to settle the agreement,” she announced. “The knights of the round table did such things with King Arthur when they committed to a quest. I read it in my most recent novel. This is like our own quest. Instead of knights, we are spinsters. Armed with books and teacups.”
Was it convincing enough? She thought it unlikely that Lancelot had touched his tongue to Arthur’s while swearing fealty, but then what did either of them know about history? All she knew was that she wanted to sneak as many kisses as she could this summer, under whatever guise she could manage them.
Caroline’s lips twitched. “And the unknown sponsor is the dragon? It could well be. That reminds me—it’s Thursday. I may have moved across town, but it gives you no excuse to forget about me.”
“Forget about you?”
“My weekly novel. From the lending library.” Caroline poked her knee. “You didn’t bring me anything yesterday. You always brought me one on Wednesdays.”
Arabella stared. “But you can afford your own subscription now.”
She shrugged. “It’s not about the cost. I like the recommendations.”
An absurd warmth spread through her heart. “They have staff there who can recommend anything you wish for you.”
“They aren’tyou.”
Caroline gazed into her eyes, and the warmth spread until her body was hot and tingly. Thank goodness for the breeze, or she would be set aflame.
“There’s always next week,” Arabella said.
She would always be there when Caroline needed her.
And maybe, if she were very lucky, she would be able to get what she needed, too.
Chapter Seven
After a lifetime of pencil nubs and paper scraps, it was the most luxurious thing in the world for Caroline to put a pen that someone else had sharpened to a crisp white paper from the fanciest stationer in town. It was a marvel to send out invitations via a servant who had no more pressing task that day but to invite friends to meet her at the bathing rooms at eight o’clock the following morning.
After some deliberation, she had invited Arabella and the women they had met at the Martins’ card party several weeks ago—Miss Maeve Balfour and Miss Grace Linfield.
Miss Linfield picked up the chalk and wrote their names on the granite board near the door, putting them in line for the next available bathing machine. It was early enough that they shouldn’t have to wait long, as Inverley boasted four machines hitched to horses that plodded into the sea as often as one could wish between the hours of seven in the morning to two in the afternoon. Though Arabella told them it would be a squeeze to have all four of them at once, Miss Linfield had confessed to nerves at the concept of dipping and Miss Balfour had firmly declared it to be settled—they all would go together.
Caroline ordered a round of sea tonic for them all, pleased that she had more than enough coins tucked in her reticule to pay for a dozen such excursions.
Miss Balfour wrinkled her nose. She was as elegant as she had been at the Martins’, even in her flannel wrapper and her silk bathing cap. “Could we not have a strong cup of tea instead?”
Arabella smiled at her. “You don’t sound enthused. Did you not say that your mother was here to partake in the health cures? Has she been enjoying the tonics?”
“She is as enthusiastic as I am not,” she admitted. “Mama is rigorous about bathing every morning in the waters. She even enjoys being toweled dry by cloth that had been previously soaked in sea salts, which I think sounds unnecessarily harsh on the skin.” She examined her hands. “I cannot countenance such a thing.”
“You have come all this way and ought to be trying everything,” Arabella told her, taking a glass from the attendant. “I’m sure the tonic has wonderful properties.”
Caroline grinned. “You recommend it, Bell, even though I know you never tried even a sip before?”
She blushed. “You know I have been in finest fettle my whole life and never saw the need.”
