A Royal Kiss and Tell

He didn’t answer. He had a sudden burn in his chest. He knew what she did not—that he would leave very soon, and with five women if he could manage it. And when he left, he likely would never return to England. At least not for a very long time. There didn’t seem much point going round to 22 Upper Brook Street again, except to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so much that his heart was beating like a drum in his chest.

Her smile turned brighter, almost as if she sensed the burning in him.

“I’ll come around. I must if I am going to enlist your help in gaining an invitation to the Pennybackers’ ball.”

“Oh dear. Has your invitation gone missing?” She leaned closer. “Are you a rake?”

“Guilty as charged.”

She laughed. She leaned forward, lifted her chin and murmured, “Find your own way to the Pennybacker ball.” With that, she moved away from him and in the direction of the drawing room. She brushed her fingers against his as she passed, and cast a smile at him over her shoulder before disappearing into the room.

He waited until he couldn’t see her anymore, then made his way to the door and received his hat and cloak from a footman.

Leo felt odd. Like his body didn’t fit his skin. He felt like something was blossoming in him.

He felt like he was falling in love.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

One never knows what the sea wind may carry into London with it, but for a peacock with an eager wish to land a match, it has brought a gentleman who has been away from England’s shores for some time. Whether or not the gentleman desires a match remains to be seen.

Savile Row, a street for the most fashionable of addresses, has added a new clothier for fine gentlemen’s tailoring. Should one’s husband require formal evening wear, one simply must call on Mr. Henry Poole.

Ladies, perfume liberally scented with ambergris will mask the body’s unpleasant odors when the heat begins to rise.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and

Domesticity for Ladies

IN THE WEEKS that followed the bad sea voyage and her terrible illness, Caroline had made some lovely dresses that were so well received that she’d gained a list of names wanting her creations. Dress forms and bolts of cloth and spools of thread filled her sitting room. Beck complained about it, but he stubbornly refused to hear any mention of her opening her own dress shop.

She was actively considering how she might maneuver around him.

“Fine ladies do not engage in trade, Caro,” Beck had huffed. “Leave that sort of thing to Mrs. Honeycutt.”

Caroline hadn’t argued with her brother—she’d learned that sometimes it was better to do and then seek his approval.

Today, on her way to pay her weekly call to Justice Tricklebank, she’d gone down Savile Row to have a look. Why should it be the street of bespoke tailoring only for men? She should very much like to have a dress shop with a lovely window on this street.

The other thing that had happened in those weeks after Eliza’s wedding was Leopold. Oh, but she was a blessed fool for involving herself with him. Had it been Hollis or Eliza in her shoes, she would have strongly cautioned them against getting caught up with someone like him. Well, she had cautioned Eliza, but Eliza had stubbornly followed her heart, and look where that had gotten her.

But Caroline was not Eliza, and Leopold was not his brother, and Caroline knew she was walking on the very edge of a cliff. But she’d meant what she’d said—life was so boring if one didn’t gamble a bit.

On this bright, sun-filled day, she had to swallow down a giggle every time she thought of him. She couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t help anything where he was concerned.

When she reached the judge’s modest home, she fairly leaped from the carriage and jogged up the steps to the door, rapping a staccato burst of eagerness that sent Jack and John, the two terrible terriers, into paroxysms of alert. Their barking sounded like an entire kennel on the other side of the door.

Poppy opened the door. Poppy had been a housemaid since Caroline was a girl and was really more sister than servant. Her face lit with delight, and she threw her arms around Caroline, smashing Jack and John between them as she hugged her tightly. “I thought you’d all but forgotten us! Oh, but we’ve missed you, Lady Caroline. The judge asked about you just yesterday. ‘Has Caro forgotten us,’ he said.”