The Secret Love of a Gentleman. Jane Lark
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glancing at her across the table. Kate had pandered to Caroline’s insecurities, she’d been seated between his mother and Mary, disobeying the male, then female, structure of the entire group. But between the women who she knew and perhaps felt a little more comfortable with, Caroline had animation. Deep in conversation, she smiled at Mary on occasions and her hand gestured as she spoke.
She was beautiful, but not in the striking way of his family. Caroline’s beauty was almost indefinable—there was no particular notable element—but the elements put together…
Her hair was blonde, a golden yellow, her skin clear but not remarkably pale, and her eyes hazel. Her nose was slender and long, and her lips generous, but when they parted in a rare smile, it lit up her face, awakening her overall beauty. He was fascinated. He hardly spoke to his aunt Jane and his cousin Eleanor, who flanked him at the table.
Watching Caroline was like watching a wild creature. She required patience. To observe her in reality you must sit in silence because if you moved she would know you were watching and be scared away.
Her gaze caught on his, only for an instant. Then she looked at his mother. But in that instant something hard struck him in the chest.
The candlelight from the candelabra on the table made her skin glow, and the different shades in her eyes became darker as the light flickered.
When the women rose and left the table, Rob spoke with his uncle James. They walked into the drawing room together later, once they had finished their port, and as they did, Rob’s gaze searched for Caroline.
She was sitting in the corner, beside Kate.
Every time he’d seen Caroline here over the years she’d hidden in corners.
“Robbie.” Rob turned at his ducal brother’s greeting. “I imagine you have been longing for this summer, to have your freedom and stretch your wings. I know I was excited at your age.”
“You did not just stretch your wings, you flew off.” John had been the ideal Rob aspired to when he was younger—but John was so damned perfect Rob would never match him. John irked him now. They were not particularly close. In Rob’s formative years John had been away at school and then abroad for years. When John had returned to take up the role of duke, he’d been a grown man and Rob still a boy.
“Yes, well, this country held no appeal when grandfather was alive, and I had a contrary nature. Leaving was the only way I could influence my life. You could do the same if you wished—go abroad. Your allowance is yours to do with as you will.”
Rob held his brother’s gaze as the words kicked him in the gut. Living on John’s generosity was not the life he chose. “I’ve no idea what I wish to do.” That was not true, but he would not share it with John because he knew one thing clearly, I do not wish to mimic you.
“Except escape Mama’s nest.”
“Well, yes, that, obviously.” Rob’s gaze swung away and reached across the room, only to find Caroline watching him. His heart thumped in his chest as he met her look. She turned away, and his gaze turned back to John.
“Will you run riot in town, then?”
“That’s Harry’s style. You know it is not mine.” Harry was the hell-raiser. Rob had never been that.
John gripped Rob’s shoulder. “Well, whatever you do, do not become a stranger.”
Rob nodded. John turned away. Rob looked back at Caroline. She was alone.
She was looking at her hands, which rested in her lap, trying to hide amidst a crowd. A phantom.
He walked over to her. “Caroline.” The muscle of her upper body jerked, her gaze flying to his for an instant. She hadn’t noticed him approaching. She looked down again.
Her hair was curled and coifed, with a few wisps trailing the length of her slender neck and kissing her cheeks. Those curls danced with her movement.
She was a slender woman, neither short nor tall, but fragile in appearance, and yet she had a generous bosom.
Rather than tower over her, he dropped into the seat beside hers.
She leant back a little.
“I am sorry for upsetting you this afternoon, but there was no need to run.”
Once more her gaze flew to him, before falling away.
“Look at me.” Rob urged quietly, sitting forward in his chair and leaning towards her. No one ever challenged her, no one. Everyone protected her.
The memory of his younger sister, Jemima’s, aversion to spiders came to mind. He’d caught one and kept it in a glass so that she could look at it, and eventually he’d persuaded her to touch it, now she could let one run across her hand. Fears ought to be faced.
Her gaze lifted to his, and her eyes shone from behind blonde eyelashes; her eye colour in candlelight was a dark amber. Her eyebrows arched as her fingers clasped more firmly in her lap.
“I am staying with Drew and Mary for the summer…” He searched for words.
“I know, Mr Marlow.”
Her gaze left his and looked for someone to rescue her, probably Drew.
“Rob, Caroline, not Mr Marlow. Look at me,” he said again. If she would look at him, then maybe he could begin to help break her fear.
She did, but her gaze raged at him, bidding him to leave her alone.
“Why do you not feel comfortable?”
She looked away. She was about to rise and run again. Instinctively he reached out and caught hold of her wrist. “Caroline…” But immediately he realised what he’d done. No one touched her except Drew, Mary and the children. Everyone knew Caroline could not abide to be touched.
It was as though a lightning bolt struck between them her reaction was so violent and sudden. Her gaze accused him of committing murder as his fingers opened. Her arm slipped from his hold when she rose from her chair and fled again, crossing the room to the safety of Mary.
Rob watched her flight and felt a heel. He should not have pushed her.
He looked at his sister and awaited a glance of condemnation. None came. Caroline did not tell Mary, and no one in the room had noticed that he’d approached Caroline.
He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his fist, still watching Caroline.
“You’re miles away, where are you?” Rob’s uncle Robert, the Earl of Barrington, occupied the chair Caroline had vacated.
As Rob leant back, his ankle lifted to rest on his opposite knee and he smiled. Uncle Robert was his favourite uncle, his father’s brother. Rob had been named for him.
“I did not think you were coming. I thought you were going home to Yorkshire.”
“Jane wished to spend some time with everyone before we left. I gave in to her coercion.”
Aunt Jane was sitting at the pianoforte, in the company of his cousin Margaret, sorting through music.
Rob had been close to them from a young age. Their eldest son, Henry, was of an age with Harry, so Rob and Harry had stayed with them frequently as children.
Henry was more like Harry, though. They were both currently standing to one side of the room drinking and laughing with the others of their age group.
Rob looked back at his uncle. Robert had undertaken a grand tour, as John had. “Did you enjoy the continent when you were there?”
Robert smiled, then looked at his wife. “Jane grew up on a manor bordering my father’s land. We were close as children. I was in love with her, but she married someone else, an arranged marriage. She broke my heart. I left England because I was miserable. My time abroad was equally miserable.”
Rob shifted to sit upright,