Inside, the city moved past the windows in its familiar, indifferent procession of lamp light and dark, and he sat with the plain inventory of what the evening had produced.
Lewis’s trust, Gideon’s suspended question, and the considerably more inconvenient fact that he had spent the better part of three hours in a room talking about Caroline while trying, with only partial success, to think about anything else.
She was the one woman in London he could not afford to want anything from or expect to seduce.
He understood this with complete, unambiguous clarity. And yet here he was, in a carriage at half past ten, with his best friend’s confidence sitting within his chest like a debt already accumulating interest, and the clearest thought in his possession was not guilt, or Gideon’s questions, or the considerable practical problem of the arrangement he had agreed to.
It was the sound of her voice in an amphitheater, arriving before she had thought of stopping it.
And the look on her face in the moment after, when she had known it was too late to call it back, and had decided, without flinching, without apology, not to try.
It was an anticipation he did not want to name, as their next adventure was approaching.
“You are a massive fool,” he murmured, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, and did not look out the window for the remainder of the ride.
Chapter Twelve
GAMBLE AT A GAMING HELL
“We’re not staying here,” the Duke said, the moment she stepped through the door.
Caroline froze in her tracks.
She had managed the usual ordeal of the evening without incident, the watchful silence of Grayston House after midnight, the third floorboard from the landing, the cold two streets walked with her cloak pulled close and her head down. She had arrived at Wynford House with the restless anticipation she had, over these past weeks, stopped pretending she did not feel.
And underneath it, quieter and less willing to be put aside, the residue of a morning when she and Lewis had passed each other in the corridor and said nothing.
There was still too much to say with her brother, and neither of them had found the door back into a level-headed conversation yet.
She had not thought about it since. She was not thinking about that now.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“We are not staying.” The Duke of Wynford straightened from where he had been leaning against the writing desk, lifting a parcel from beside him.
He was in his shirtsleeves, his coat folded over the back of the chair carelessly, easily, clearly home long enough to dispense with formality. There was a quality in the set of his jaw she had not seen before: a wound-tight restraint that made her pulse kick for whatever reason.
“We’re going out tonight,” he clarified.
Caroline’s pulse suddenly spiked. “You might have mentioned that in your note,” she replied, trying to project the image of calm.
“I might have.” He crossed the room and held the parcel out to her with matter-of-fact efficiency. “You’ll need to change.”
She looked at it, then at him, her excitement seeking to find expression through her facial muscles, but she barely held them in check. “Into what, precisely?”
“Not breeches, if that is what you’re imagining.” Something shifted at the corner of his mouth. “You will be wearing a dress this time.”
Caroline looked at the parcel made of plain brown paper and done up with neat creases and folds. On the desk behind him sat a second, smaller item she had not immediately registered: a half-mask, black, with no ornament whatsoever.
She looked at the mask, her eyes widening as she could no longer contain her excitement.
“A masquerade?” she asked.
He shook his head. “A gaming hell.”
“A gaming hell,” she repeated, a wide smile spreading over her face.
“Itisthe third item on your list, after all,” Anthony said, that half-smirk teasing at his lips again, and her pulse did something she did not examine. “This particular establishment encourages anonymity. Hence, the mask. Your identity will be safe there. You’ll change in the anteroom.” He indicated the door to his left. “Ten minutes.”