Historical Trio 2012-01 Read online

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Bring brandy into the library, would you, Simpson?’ Dominic instructed the butler as he kept a firm hold of Caro’s arm, unsure as to whether or not she might faint away at his feet if he did not.

  Admittedly, the near-miss in the park had been of concern for several seconds, but even so he had been surprised to see Caro so white and shaking after the event. Damn it, she was still white and shaking!

  His hand tightened on her arm. ‘At once, if you please,’ he said to the butler briskly before taking Caro into the library and closing the door against curious eyes. He led her gently across the room and saw her seated in the chair beside the fireplace.

  Ordinarily, he would have been impatient with a woman’s display of nerves. But having already witnessed Caro’s fortitude several times—when faced with the ribaldry of three young bucks, in the midst of a brawl, and then again when Osbourne had received a beating by those four thugs—Dominic could only feel concern that a minor incident, such as the one that had happened in the park just now, should have reduced her to this trembling state.

  He moved down on to his haunches beside the chair in which she now sat, before placing one of his hands on top of her clasped and trembling ones. ‘No harm was done, Caro. In fact,’ he continued drily, ‘I believe that young girl to be completely unaware of the near-accident that she caused.’

  The young girl who had reminded Caro so much of her younger sister, Elizabeth…

  For it could not really have been Elizabeth, could it? No, the young and ebony-haired girl in the blue gown and spring bonnet could not possibly have been Elizabeth, only someone who looked a little like her—because Elizabeth was safely ensconced at Shoreley Hall with their sister, Diana.

  Caro had been reminding herself of that fact for the ten minutes or so that it had taken Dominic to drive the curricle back to Blackstone House—all the while shooting her frowning glances from those silver-coloured eyes, at what he obviously viewed to be her overreaction to the near-accident.

  An assumption she dared not refute, for fear he would then demand an explanation as to what had really upset her.

  She pulled both her hands from beneath his much larger, enveloping one. ‘Do not fuss, Dominic. I assure you I am now perfectly recovered!’

  Dominic straightened to step away and lean his arm casually upon the top of the mantel as he looked down at her; this caustic Caro was much more like the one he had come to know these past two days. ‘I am glad to hear it.’ He gave a mocking inclination of his head, giving away none, he hoped, of his own disturbed emotions with regard to the near-accident.

  It was difficult, nearly impossible after all that had already happened this past twelve hours, for the incident not to have once again reminded Dominic of the carriage accident that had killed his mother sixteen years ago, and resulted in the death of his father, too, only days later. Especially when Caro had obviously been rendered so upset by it all.

  ‘Ah, thank you, Simpson.’ He turned to the butler as he entered to place the tray containing the brandy decanter and glasses down upon the table in the centre of the room.

  ‘I trust Mrs Morton is feeling better, my lord?’ The remark was addressed to Dominic, but the elderly man’s gaze lingered in concern on Caro as she sat so white and still beside the fire.

  She turned now to bestow a gracious smile upon the older man. ‘I am quite well now, thank you, Simpson.’ She continued to smile warmly as she removed her bonnet.

  Dominic listened incredulously to the exchange—when, by all that was holy, had Caro managed to beguile his butler? An elderly man who was usually so stiffly correct he was in danger of cutting himself from the starch in his collar. ‘That will be all, Simpson,’ he dismissed the servant curtly.

  Caro waited until the two of them were alone before speaking. ‘I believe, Dominic, that you might find your servants were happier in their work if you were to treat them with a little more politeness.’

  Brought to task by this little baggage, by damn! ‘And what, pray, would you know about servants’ happiness in their work?’ Dominic decided to attack rather than defend, and was instantly rewarded with the flush that coloured her cheeks. ‘Unless, of course, you were once a servant yourself?’

  Her chin rose. ‘And if I were?’

  Then Dominic would be surprised. Very surprised! ‘I will know the story of your past one day, Caro,’ he warned softly as he moved to pour brandy into two glasses.

  She eyed him coolly. ‘I doubt you would find it at all interesting, my lord.’

  He moved to hand her one of the bulbous glasses. ‘Oh, I believe that I might…’

  Rather than answer him, Caro took a sip of her brandy, her eyes widening as the fiery alcohol hit the back of her throat and completely took her breath away. ‘My goodness…!’ she gasped, her eyes watering as the liquid continued to burn a path down to her stomach.

  Dominic eyed her with amusement. ‘I take it that you have never drunk brandy before?’

  She placed the glass carefully down upon the table beside her. ‘It is dreadful stuff. Disgusting!’

  ‘I believe it may be something of an acquired taste.’ He took another appreciative sip.

  Caro gave a delicate shudder, her stomach still feeling as if there were a fire lit inside it. ‘It is not one I ever intend to acquire, I assure you.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ he smiled. ‘There is nothing so unattractive to a man as an inebriated woman.’

  Caro wrinkled her nose delicately. ‘Really? In what way?’

  ‘Never mind. Would you care for some tea, instead?’

  ‘That will not be necessary—oh. Do you play?’ Caro had taken the time to glance about the comfortable library as the two of them talked, spotting the chess pieces set up on the table beside the window.

  Dominic followed her line of vision. ‘Do you?’

  ‘A little,’ she answered noncommittally.

  His brows rose. ‘Really?’

  ‘You do not sound as if you believe me?’ Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

  He shrugged. ‘In my experience, women do not usually play chess.’

  ‘Then I must be an unusual woman, because I believe I play rather well.’

  Dominic didn’t doubt she was an unusual woman; she had been the source of one surprise after another since he had first met her.

  ‘Would you care for a game before dinner?’ she challenged lightly.

  He grimaced. ‘I think not. I was taught by a grand master,’ he explained as Caro looked up at him enquiringly.

  As the undisputed chess champion in her family and that included her father, she felt no hesitation in pitting her own considerable ability against Dominic Vaughn’s or anyone else’s. She was certainly a good enough player that she would not embarrass herself.

  She stood up to cross over to the chess-table. The pieces appeared to have been smoothly carved out of black-and-white marble, the table inlaid with a board of that same beautiful marble. She glanced back to where Dominic still stood beside the fireplace. ‘Surely you cannot be refusing to play against me simply because I am a woman?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Dominic drawled. ‘I simply prefer to play against an opponent I consider to be my equal in the game.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know I am not until we have played together?’

  He quirked a brow. ‘A game in the nursery with your nanny does not equip you to play a champion.’

  Caro bristled. ‘You are being presumptuous, sir!’

  ‘Concerning your game or the nanny?’

  ‘Both!’ Caro was all too well aware how determined Dominic was to learn more of her past. ‘But being a gentleman of the ton, perhaps you would find it more of a challenge if I were to propose a wager?’

  He eyed her guardedly. ‘What sort of wager?’

  ‘Are you any further forwards in your enquiries concerning the attack upon Lord Thorne?’

  Dominic’s expression became even more cautious.
‘I am hoping to receive news on the subject later today.’

  ‘But you are not sure?’ she pressed.

  Dominic’s mouth tightened. ‘At this precise moment, no.’

  Caro nodded briskly. ‘In that case, if I win, I would like for you to find me other accommodation sooner rather than later.’

  Those silver eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

  ‘I do not have to state a reason, my lord, merely name a forfeit,’ she pointed out primly. ‘And if you win—’

  ‘Should I not be allowed to choose your own forfeit for myself?’ Dominic interjected softly, those silver eyes glittering in challenge.

  She drew in a deep breath, not at all sure she had not ventured beyond her depth, after all; Dominic seemed utterly convinced that he would win any game of chess between them. But she could not back down now; she owed it to other females who played chess to defend their reputation against such obvious male bigotry! Besides which, she dearly wished to escape Blackstone House. And the disturbing Lord Dominic Vaughn… ‘Name your forfeit, my lord.’

  ‘Dominic.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘That is your forfeit?’

  ‘That is only an aside request, Caro, and not the actual forfeit,’ he said. ‘I am sure you will not find it too difficult to do; you seem to have no trouble at all in calling me Dominic before launching yourself into my arms!’ Those silver-coloured eyes openly laughed at her now beneath long dark lashes.

  Caro’s cheeks burned, not at all sure which occasion he was referring to—there had been so many, it seemed! ‘Very well, name my forfeit…Dominic.’

  He seemed to give the matter some thought. ‘You will reveal something of your true self to me, perhaps?’

  Caro looked at him warily. She knew of her own ability in playing the game of chess, but Dominic’s self-confidence could not be overlooked, either; he was so obviously sure of his ability that he had not even attempted to dispute the forfeit she would demand of him if she were the victor. To agree to tell him something of her true self was not something she had ever intended doing, either now or in the future. But then, neither did she intend allowing him to win this game of chess… ‘Very well, I agree.’ She gave a haughty inclination of her head.

  Dominic lounged back in his chair, his expression one of boredom as the game began, sure that he was wasting both his own time and hers by playing at all.

  After only a few more moves in the game he knew that victory was not going to be so easily won. Caro’s opening gambit had been an unusual one, and one Dominic had put down to her lack of experience in the game, but as he now studied the pieces on the board he saw that if the game continued on its current path, then she would have him in check for the first time in only three more moves.

  ‘Very good,’ he murmured appreciatively as he moved his king out of danger.

  Caro could see that, instead of continuing to lounge back uninterestedly, she now had all of Dominic’s attention. ‘Perhaps we might play in earnest now?’ Her heart did a strange leap as he looked up to smile across the table at her. A warm and genuine smile that owed nothing to his usual expression of mockery or disdain, and instead leant a boyish charm to the usual severe austerity of his face.

  ‘I am looking forward to it, Caro,’ he replied, his attention now fully on the chessboard.

  The maid, Mabel, had come in and attended to the fire, and Simpson had arrived to light several candles whilst the game continued, but neither opponent had even been aware of their presence as they concentrated completely on the chessboard between them.

  It had become more than a game of chess to Caro; it had come to represent the inequality of the relationship that currently existed between the two of them. An equality that would not have existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Lady Caroline Copeland, but which most definitely existed between Lord Dominic Vaughn and Caro Morton. As such, it had become more than a battle of wills to Caro, and she played like a fiend in her determination not to be beaten.

  Something that Dominic was well aware of as he studied her flushed and determined face between narrowed lids. Her eyes were more green than blue in their intensity, and the flush added colour to her otherwise porcelain white cheeks and down across the full swell of her breasts. Those rosy tips were no doubt deeper in colour, too, and were perhaps swollen and begging for the feel of his—

  ‘Check!’ Caro announced with barely concealed excitement.

  Dominic’s attention was reluctant to return to the board rather than considering the taste of Caro’s breasts. He moved his own piece out of danger.

  Irritation creased Caro’s brow before clearing again as she made another move. ‘Check.’

  Dominic studied the board intently for several seconds. ‘I believe that we will only continue in this vein ad nauseam, and that this game, therefore, must be declared a draw.’

  She eyed him mockingly. ‘Unless you were to concede?’

  ‘Or you were?’

  She sat back in her chair. ‘I think not.’

  ‘Then we will call it a draw.’ Dominic said. ‘And hope that one of us will be the victor on the morrow.’

  ‘We could play again now—’

  ‘It is time for dinner, Caro,’ he murmured after a glance at the clock on the mantel, surprised to learn that a full two hours had passed since they had began to play. Surprised, also, at how much he had enjoyed those two hours.

  Caro did not talk as she played, but neither was the silence awkward or uncomfortable. More, despite the fact they were in opposition to one another, it had been a companionable and enjoyable silence. And he, Dominic, decided as the realisation caused him to rise abruptly to his feet, was not a man to be domesticated to his fireside by any woman. Least of all a woman who steadfastly refused to reveal anything of her true self to him!

  ‘Does this mean that we both concede our forfeit or that neither of us does?’ she asked.

  Dominic’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back to where Caro had now risen gracefully from the table. ‘Stalemate would seem to imply that neither of us do,’ he replied. ‘As we are so late I suggest that neither of us bothers to change before dinner.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ She gracefully crossed the room on slippered feet as she confided, ‘I am so ravenously hungry.’

  Dominic found himself laughing despite his earlier uncomfortable thoughts concerning domesticity. ‘Has no one ever told you that ladies are supposed to have the appetite and delicacy of a sparrow?’ he drawled.

  ‘If they did, then I have forgotten,’ Caro retorted as they strolled through the hallway and into the small candlelit dining room together, another fire alight in the hearth there to warm the room.

  ‘I take it you are now, out of pure contrariness, about to show that you have the appetite and delicacy of an eagle.’ Dominic pulled her chair back, lingering behind her a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary as he enjoyed the floral perfume of her hair.

  Caro, in the act of draping her napkin across her knee, paused to give the matter some thought before answering. As far as she was aware, she had eaten nothing so far today. ‘Perhaps a raven.’ Not a good comparison, she realised with an inner wince, when the colour of Dominic’s hair reminded her of a raven’s wing…

  Dominic was chuckling softly as he took his seat opposite hers at the small round table. Not so intimate that their knees actually touched beneath it, but certainly enough to create an atmosphere Caro could have wished did not exist.

  She ignored Dominic to smile at Simpson as he entered the room with a soup tureen and began to serve their first course. It was a delicious watercress soup that Caro enjoyed so much that the butler served her a second helping.

  ‘As I said, an eagle…’ Dominic muttered so that only she could hear, wincing slightly, but not uttering a sound, as she kicked him on the shin beneath the table with one slipper-covered foot; no doubt it had hurt her more than it had hurt him!

  He inwardly approved of the fact that she made no effort to hide her appetite; he had
spent far too many evenings with women who picked at their food, and in doing so totally ruined his own appetite. In contrast to those other women, Caro ate just as heartily of the fish course, and her roast beef and vegetables, all followed by some chocolate confection that she ate with even more relish than the previous courses.

  So much so that Dominic found himself watching her rather than attempting to eat his own dessert. ‘Perhaps you would care to eat mine, too?’ He pushed the untouched glass bowl towards her.

  Her eyes lit up, before she gave a reluctant shake of her head. ‘I really should not…’

  ‘I believe it is a little late for a show of maidenly delicacy,’ Dominic teased as he placed the bowl in front of her before standing up to pour himself a glass of the brandy Caro had so obviously disliked earlier. He sat down again to study her as he swirled the brandy round in the glass, easily noting the colour in her cheeks. ‘I was commenting on the subject of food, of course…’

  That colour deepened. ‘If you are going to start being ungentlemanly again—’

  ‘I was not aware that in your eyes I had ever stopped?’ Dominic said, raising dark, mocking brows.

  Perhaps not, Caro conceded, but there had been something of a ceasefire during and since their game of chess. In fact, she had believed she had even seen a grudging respect in those silver-coloured eyes when the game had ended in a draw. ‘What shall we do with the rest of the evening?’ She opted for a safer subject.

  ‘I, my dear Caro, am going out—’

  ‘Out?’ She frowned after a glance at the gold clock on the mantel. ‘But it is almost eleven o’clock.’

  He gave an inclination of his head. ‘And if Nick’s were open, you would still have a second performance of the evening to get through.’

  True. But having spent most of the day sleeping, Caro was not ready to retire to her bedchamber just yet. ‘Are you going to see Lord Thorne? If so, perhaps I might come with you?’