All About Seduction(36)

Robert’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “What happened? I thought you had him”—he jerked his head toward Tremont—“on your scent.”

Her face heated. She plucked at the lace on her sleeves. She should stop before she caught a thread and unraveled the lot of it. “He thought I was looking for my next husband.”

“Well, so did I when I got Broadhurst’s first note.” Robert put his hand over hers, stopping her fidgeting. “What can I do to help you?”

She drew in a deep breath and straightened. “Stop reporting my progress to Mr. Broadhurst.”

“God, Caro, I only meant it to the good. He seemed convinced you had no intention of doing what he asked, but I assured him you had put forth considerable effort.”

Caroline closed her eyes briefly. But the last thing she wanted to look like was a long-suffering saint. She had chosen to go along with Mr. Broadhurst’s proposition. Returning home destitute, or a second marriage, might have been acceptable to many other women in her position, but those alternatives weren’t acceptable to her. She needed control of her destiny.

She popped her eyes open and found Mr. Whitton in the room. She watched him bring a cigar to his lips and suck on it.

As if aware of her scrutiny, he turned toward her. This time instead of ducking away she gave him a slight smile and then deliberately turned toward her brother as if she knew her duty was to listen but thought Robert a bore.

“So have you decided Tremont won’t do?” asked Robert. “Or do you want me to talk to him?”

“Tell me,” Caroline said, trying to keep from narrowing her eyes. “How many sisters should one man have relations with?”

“He told you about Amelia?” said Robert, confirming her suspicions.

Her stomach plummeted. “Not in so many words, but the least you could have done was bring gentlemen who would not make unfavorable comparisons.”

Robert looked chagrined.

“Perhaps my efforts wouldn’t be so noticeable if Amelia were here and I wasn’t the center of attention.”

“I didn’t think of that.” Robert looked around the room. “I suppose it is obvious when you leave with one of the men. But couldn’t you just flirt a bit and arrange to meet later?”

“Is that how it should be done?” Caroline asked through a forced smile. She looked at Mr. Whitton out of the corner of her eye.

At least he seemed to be watching her now. It vaguely reminded her of the way she had always noticed Jack in the mill, but without the strange flutters in her stomach. But she was playacting with Mr. Whitton.

Good gracious, had she found Jack attractive? Was that what made her always seek out his face among the myriad workers?

Mr. Whitton leaned forward in his chair as if to rise. The pleasant warmth she experienced when Jack was near was dismally absent. Her shock at her attraction to a man like him, perhaps a younger version of Mr. Broadhurst, was shoved away to a locked corner of her mind. She needed a baby, not a pleasant imagining of an encounter that would never happen.

And of course in all the times she watched Jack before his accident, she’d never imagined more than his assisting her over a walkway or around a mess in the mill. Perhaps holding her hand. A silly schoolgirl kind of daydream. Certainly she’d never thought of him intimately, not as she was trying to think of Mr. Whitton.

Mr. Whitton stood. Caroline glanced coyly at him.

Robert drew a deep breath and spoke. “If you want me to end this, I will—”

“Go,” said Caroline under her breath.

“What?” Robert blinked.

“I have one on the line. Go, so I may reel him in.”

Robert rose to his feet. In almost a theatrical voice, he said, “Looks like I need a refill.”

He might need a refill, but she suspected she would need a whole bottle to relax.

Mrs. Broadhurst finally came at half eight. Jack had nearly given up hope of seeing her again today. But he kept his eyes glued to the page in front of him. He’d been trying to decipher it for the last hour. The small words were easy enough, but a word such as epoch baffled him. He could absolutely not think of a word that fit the letters that ended with a ch sound, as in chain or child. He read the word “incredulity” again and again, trying to hear Mrs. Broadhurst’s voice as it flowed off her tongue. His mind churned with the effort to piece together parts until he recognized a word, but it continued to elude him, until he wondered if it was a nob word he never used.