All About Seduction(21)

She smiled, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling just a second before the edges of her mouth lifted. “A clear beef soup of a sort.”

Even her language marked their differences. Perhaps she would leave him if he called for his supper, or perhaps she would smile more if he ate like a good invalid. “I could try it, ma’am.”

She tugged on a loop of material near the door and then pulled around the chair the maid had used, so she faced him. Arranging her wide skirts around her, she sat down.

A footman opened the door. “You rang, ma’am?”

“Yes, please ask Cook to send a bowl of the beef consommé and a bit of bread for our patient here, and please inform me when the gentlemen have left their port.”

The footman nodded.

“Oh, and fetch the extra pillows from my room for Mister . . .” She swiveled toward Jack. “I’m sorry I don’t know your last name.”

“Applegate. John Applegate.” He frowned, not knowing why he’d given his baptismal name. “But everyone calls me Jack.”

“Mr. Applegate.” The dip in her voice was like a lover’s tone.

“Jack,” he repeated. He shook his head. The medicine had made him befuddled. She wasn’t interested in anything more than his health, and no more than any of the hundreds of other workers in her husband’s mill. Or was she?

Caroline hated to leave Jack with the housekeeper, but the older woman would bully him into eating the consommé and drinking the sweetened orange water she had ordered for him. And perhaps Mrs. Burns was motherly enough that Jack would accept the comfort he refused from her.

His pain etched lines into his forehead and caused him to squint. The doctor had said there would be a lot of pain for the first two or three days.

Caroline tried to get her mind off Jack as she made a circuit of the drawing room. The gentlemen held cups of tea or snifters of brandy while discussing the upcoming days of hunting. She felt as out of place as a horse in a ballroom. Obviously she had dressed up for the occasion, while the gentlemen had settled into less formal country wear. However, if she was to attract one of them to her bed, she couldn’t exactly wear her usual sober dresses. With more warning she could have ordered less flamboyant evening gowns instead of having to use her London wardrobe.

Lord Tremont moved beside her and said, “I hear there was a bit of excitement this afternoon.”

“Yes, a bad accident. One of the workers had his ankle crushed in the machinery.” She wished the words back as soon as she said them. She should have said something banal like, I hope the noise did not disturb you. Or I’m sorry to not have greeted you in person when you arrived.

“Poor blighter.” Tremont lifted his brandy snifter and took a step away.

Caroline stiffened. She opened her mouth to defend Jack, but swallowed her words. Lord Tremont was supposed to be the man most likely to seduce her. With his curly golden hair and full brown mustache over an almost insolent grin, she imagined he had plenty of takers in the City.

“So tell me the latest news from London,” she said.

“Do you not get the papers?”

Steeling herself, she put her hand on his arm. Her touch felt awkward, whereas touching Jack earlier had seemed natural. But he was too ill and weak to even consider as a possible candidate for fatherhood. No, one of the gentlemen, who were for the most part well-favored, would have to suffice. “Yes, but I know so little of the gossip. Tell me who is the most fawned upon actress and who is her protector.”

He looked pointedly at her hand on his arm. “Oh that kind of gossip.”

She pulled her hand back, hardly knowing if she had touched him too long or too obviously. It all felt hopelessly forced to her.

He took another drink of his brandy and moved away from her. “I’m not sure it is suitable for your ears.”

Caroline could have screamed in frustration. “I am no innocent,” she murmured, barely keeping her tone coy.

“Or that your husband should want you to hear it,” he said under his breath. “He is looking daggers at me.”

Across the room, Mr. Broadhurst stood and set his teacup on a table with a clatter. “I’m afraid this old man must bid you good-night. I am certain Mrs. Broadhurst would love to entertain all of you for the remainder of the evening.”

Feeling the curious glances cast in her direction, Caroline studied the backs of her gloves as if they were stitched with great intricacy. All Mr. Broadhurst needed to do was add a wink and a nudge and his meaning couldn’t have been clearer. Although it wasn’t the first time he’d embarrassed her in polite company.