A Royal Kiss and Tell

CAROLINE WAS FEELING her old self again. The trip to Leadenhall, which Beck was adamant she not attempt, had done her some good after all. She hadn’t meant to go along, she hadn’t wanted to go along—she could think of nothing less attractive than a meat market. But Mr. Morley and his sisters had called, and Caroline had been desperate to escape them, and had said that she must accompany the new maid to Leadenhall, which she was certain would do the trick. Alas, much to her dismay, Mr. Morley said he would be delighted to accompany her as well, and turning to his sisters, he’d asked if they didn’t both need some beef sent home?

The day had been truly exhausting, physically, as she was still recovering, and also emotionally, as she found it taxing to be demure for such long stretches of time. But in the end, Caroline was very pleased that her legs had not lost their usefulness after all. Indications were that she would indeed dance again.

The other happy result of her trip to Leadenhall was the remarkable sight of Prince Leopold prowling around as if he were some inspector of birds. Not the poultry kind, either, as he maddeningly would have her believe.

Caroline had seen him in conversation with Ann Marble. She’d only noticed it because she’d spotted Molly, the kitchen maid, wandering around by herself, and had looked around for Ann. She’d been so intrigued by the intimate little tête-à-tête that she’d stepped away from Mr. Morley and his sisters and slyly moved in the prince’s direction.

She knew what those two were about, obviously. She knew the true nature of men, and she particularly knew the true nature of privileged men. He was a rake! The question was, what was she going to do about it?

She wondered what Beck would say if he knew about this despicable affair. Caroline did not intend to tell him...at least not now. She had her reasons. For one, she didn’t want to see Ann dismissed. She was good around their house, and besides, from what Caroline had gleaned from Martha, the poor girl was alone in this world. Beck had said as much when he brought her into the house. “Russell didn’t want to keep her, and I’d not like to see a young woman put to the street,” he’d said with a grimace.

But Caroline couldn’t allow this affair to continue. It would be a trifling thing to the prince, but it would ruin poor Ann. That was the thing Caroline had come to understand about men—their desire was so immediate, so intense, that they didn’t think of the consequences of what they were demanding. They thought of only the need. They didn’t see a person, really, but a feminine shape that appealed to them and their base instincts.

She’d noticed this, really noticed this, after her debut. She’d always known she was attractive, but she hadn’t realized just how attractive until that night. She had basked in the attention and the compliments, had found it exhilarating. And subsequently, at every party, every soiree after that, she sought the same feeling—of being admired. Of being desired.

But...it wasn’t long after that Caroline began to notice that the attention she gained was not particularly fulfilling. She knew what she looked like and how men looked at her. She began to understand that what attracted men to her was her near perfect shape, her face, her mouth, her hair...her exterior, in short. But they were not attracted to her.

It was as she told Hollis the afternoon her friend had called to see how Caroline fared after her illness. “No one but you cares how I truly am,” she’d complained.

“That is not true!” Hollis said. She was trying on Caroline’s latest gown and admiring herself in the mirror.

Caroline was sitting on her chaise, staring listlessly out the window. “But it is. All anyone had to say was how I looked. ‘Oh dear, your hair, darling, can it be repaired?’ Or ‘your pallor is quite gray.’ Or ‘your dress is too loose, you must eat something!’”

“All genuine concern, darling,” Hollis said. “Surely this gown was not loose on you. My God, I can scarcely breathe at all.”

“But no one asked about me, Hollis. You were the only one to ask if I understood how close to death I’d come and how did it feel to be on the edge of dying.”

Hollis paused to wrinkle her nose. “Well, that sounds positively dreadful when you put it like that. But I was curious, and if I can’t ask you, who might I ask?”

“That’s precisely my point,” Caroline said. “You are very curious about me, and not the terror of my hair. Of course you can ask me those things, because we are very dear to each other. Do you see?”

Hollis had laughed as she’d pulled her gown over her head. “I think you’ve a touch of fever yet, Caro.”

She did not have a fever. She had an inability to articulate what she meant.