All About Seduction(35)
If she could spend a few quiet minutes reading to Jack while the men lingered at the table, she could perhaps find her balance to begin a new attack on one of the men.
Before leaving, she surveyed the company. Mr. Whitton’s thinning brown hair did nothing to move his looks out of the ordinary. He would be a baron one day, but he was not so well situated that she would be thought to be title chasing. Perhaps he would not be so full of himself as Lord Tremont. Hadn’t Robert said he had several by-blows? As if he’d felt her watching him, Mr. Whitton looked up. Her gaze darted away. Trying to be obvious to her quarry without every other man in the room noticing was impossible.
She rose to leave. She reached the door just as Mr. Broadhurst barked out, “No reason to tarry over the table when we might be comfortable in the drawing room.”
Caroline winced, but signaled to a footman to bring the glasses and the port.
Because Mr. Broadhurst must have decided the little break didn’t fit with his master plan, she couldn’t stop and look in on Jack while the men finished their port and cigars.
The footmen opened the doors for her, and she crossed the marble hall and put her hand on the balustrade. She dreaded each step.
Too loud and boisterous, the guests followed, gamely putting up with the quirks of their host. They needed their port to mellow them. Perhaps if she got one of them drunk, he’d be interested in lying with her. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if she wasn’t enthusiastic as long as she was willing. Or perhaps she needed to get drunk.
After the men all had a glass of port or brandy and broke into small conversations around the room, Caroline circled, chatting briefly with each man. Although they turned toward her and were polite, she couldn’t help but feel out of place, unwanted. It was a man’s gathering, after all, and she wasn’t included in their politics, their hunting, or their horseflesh stories.
She took her place on the far sofa as the gentlemen settled into chairs and lit pipes and cigars. Mr. Broadhurst engaged the men in conversation and was doing his best to be a congenial host. She’d told him earlier it would be too obvious if he left the company early, and surprisingly, he agreed that he needed to maintain the facade of entertaining the guests during their sport.
Robert sat down beside her.
“Why didn’t you tell me about petitioning for an earldom?” she asked.
“Oh that. The Earldom of Dunfer has reverted to the crown because the male line is extinct, but since our grandmother is of that line, I thought the crown might confer it on me. The income might help repair things.”
Her neck tightened. Did Robert expect her to help with that too? “And did you bring men who might influence the crown’s decision here?”
Robert frowned at her. “After I considered their marital state, their looks, and their fecundity, influence with the queen wasn’t on my mind,” he said in a low undertone. “Besides, the queen said if I could go five years without a scandal or weakness of character, she would reinstate the earldom to me. I think she wanted to make sure the apple fell far from the tree.”
Every time she thought she was on firm ground, it turned to shifting sands. By helping her, Robert was risking the earldom. “Oh, you don’t think this mess will be a scandal?”
“I hope not, Caro.” He shrugged. “But if it is . . .”
“You should have brought our sisters and your wife,” said Caroline. She wasn’t quite ready to be mollified yet.
“I didn’t want them to overshadow you.”
“Thank you, Robert. I appreciate your faith in my feminine charms.” She barely resisted rolling her eyes. But it wasn’t as if she was deluded about her attractiveness.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” said Robert. “You’re very quiet. People tend to forget you’re there.”
His explanation didn’t make her feel better. “Yes, well it is impossible to be discreet when I’m the only woman in the room.” Besides that, Amy and Sarah could have given her pointers on how exactly to go about indicating interest without making a complete cake of herself.
“Well why are you sitting all the way back here in the corner?”
“I always sit here.” But it was because it was the farthest spot from Mr. Broadhurst’s chair by the fire, and the one nearest the south window that occasionally allowed a little sun into the room. She could read or sew best here. But it was remote from the groups of men. Biting her lip, she couldn’t decide if it made it easier or harder to engage a man. Perhaps if she could lure one—other than Robert—to her side.