Kaleidoscope: A Regency Novella Read online

  But she did want friends. She was tired of a solitary life. She wished some of the businessmen she’d met had interesting wives, but the few she’d come into contact with were absorbed in their homes and children and had nothing in common with her. Any such relationship would be forced, at best.

  Of all the people she knew, she could imagine a friendship with only one person—Lucien Harlington. Of course, offering the man her virginity was a rather awkward way to begin a friendship. But he’d not leaped at the chance to bed her, so perhaps friendship was possible.

  She firmly believed that she wouldn’t know until she tried, however, and her curiosity spurred her to try. She pulled a sheet of her stationary toward her and began composing a friendly invitation to dinner.

  Intrigued—that was the word. Luke was definitely intrigued. It had been a long time since he’d been so pleased to receive a dinner invitation. Accepting it had been worth all Tremaine’s teasing about finding a cache of money in unexpected places. Luke had given up trying to convince his friend that Carolyn Rydell was something very different than a purse he was considering marrying.

  Exactly what she was remained to be seen. But he was going to pursue the possibility.

  When he arrived for dinner, therefore, he didn’t know exactly what to expect from the evening. Mrs. Rydell had expressed the need for a kind friend, and if that was all she needed, he would fill that place in her life. He regretted disabusing her of the notion that she had need of a lover, but being a friend was better than being nothing.

  When he was shown into the drawing room, she dazzled him, wearing a rose silk dress that hugged her curves lovingly and made him glad for the return of the natural waistline in woman’s gowns. She’d eschewed an elaborate hairstyle in favor of a soft arrangement that seemed held in place by a single comb. His fingers itched to pull that comb free and watch the shining darkness cascade down her back.

  He tried not to be effected by her beauty. He was not completely successful.

  “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,” she said, coming toward him with both hands extended. Luke grasped them, surprised anew by how normal holding her hands felt. “I’m sure you had many other entertainments to choose from.”

  “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” His words rang with sincerity, since they were true. He felt layers of concern sloughed off him when he was in her presence, as if the care she’d given him while he was injured continued unabated.

  Caro—no, he must think of her as Mrs. Rydell—gave a rueful smile. “I’ve been led to believe that you’re a man-about-town, so you can hardly find a simple dinner exciting.”

  “With you it is. And I hope you do not believe everything you’ve heard about me, although some of the gossip is, unfortunately, well earned. I was unjustly accused of heinous behavior and when no one would accept my innocence, I decided to live down to others’ expectations.” That was a succinct and emotionless rendition of his situation, but he now realized he wanted Carolyn Rydell to believe his innocence without question.

  “That sounds like a long tale best told over good food,” she said. “Shall we go in to dinner?”

  She led him to a dining room where two places had been set at a smaller round table by a large window rather than at the long, stately table in the middle of the room. In the fading twilight, Luke could see that the window overlooked a surprisingly spacious garden, more natural in appearance than carefully pruned.

  “The rhododendron are in full bloom,” Mrs. Rydell said, noting the direction of his gaze. “I was delighted to discover that shrubs normally grown in the Himalayans do well here in England. I’m sorry the light is fading and you can’t fully appreciate their display. I often breakfast here and enjoy the view.”

  Luke had a vivid image of Carolyn Rydell sitting here in lonely splendor, flowers her only companions. The thought made him sad. “Do you miss India?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. But like the rhododendron, I’m confident I can flourish in this clime.”

  He could hardly refute that statement, so the conversational topic changed to the difference between the two countries, and the meal passed in companionable discussion. Luke enjoyed watching the candlelight flash in her dark eyes. He was fascinated by the way her skin picked up the shimmering light and seemed to glow. He wanted to run his hands over her exposed shoulders and see if they were as soft and warm as they appeared. The desire to taste her lips beat through him.

  But Luke acted on none of these impulses. Carolyn Rydell had asked for his friendship, and that was what he would give her. He tried to pretend he was having a convivial meal with Tremaine instead of a woman who heated his blood. He had not imagined this pretense would be so difficult, however.

  When dessert arrived, he didn’t know whether to greet it with relief or disappointment.

  “This is the only Indian component of the meal,” she said. “I hope you like it.”

  Luke took a bite of what appeared to be a cool rice pudding. The sweet and nutty taste surprised him. “Very good. What’s it called?”

  “Kheer. It’s one of the few Indian dishes my cook can manage without changing it into something more English, and, therefore, not quite right. When I find I can no longer stand a bland diet, my manager Sanjeet, my maid Amala, and I invade the kitchen and cook a traditional meal. Cook is horrified, but then the recipes aren’t butchered.”

  “You can cook?”

  His expression must have reflected his doubt. She laughed. “Of course I can. I was always surprised that my fully English counterparts in India seemed to be willing to starve rather than learn the rudiments of cooking. Even my own father told me that a lady needed only to go over the menus, not actually be able to prepare them, but this seemed such a boring experience.”

  “Do you find that most of the English ladies you’ve met are boring?”

  “Not boring so much as purposeless.”

  Luke heard implied criticism in those words. He suspected she also viewed his entire life as purposeless—and in this, she was not off the mark. “Alas, the same can be applied to many people of both sexes in the ton. We’re the product of the prejudices of our class, which sees actual work as something beneath us. Foolish, I know, but that’s how we’ve been taught to look at the world.”

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “My late husband’s nephew, Lord Kelton, has made this prejudice very clear. My being in trade is probably my second greatest sin in his eyes.”

  “And what’s the greatest?”

  “Not giving him money made from that trade.” She laughed, and Luke joined her. Viewed from her perspective, the whole lot of those who clung to shabby gentility rather than work did look like fools.

  “I wasn’t always without purpose,” he said. “As a peer’s third son, I was supposed to make my own way in the world. The three most acceptable routes are politics, the military, or the church. I couldn’t see myself making speeches in Commons, and I was always more scholarly than martial. When the war against Napoleon ended while I was still at university, the church seemed the logical choice.”

  “You? A country parson?” Disbelief was written on her face.

  While understandable, her skepticism hurt. He wanted Carolyn Rydell to think better of him. He smiled to deflect the sting. “I actually saw myself more as the Archbishop of Canterbury—but I acknowledge that I couldn’t have started there. And I would have been happy with a parish in the country. I’m not all that enamored by London. I actually enjoy the slower pace of village life.”

  “Then, why are you in London?”

  That was a question he’d asked himself more than once. “I have friends here. Activities.” Those didn’t equate to purpose, but it was the best he could do. The small stud farm he’d briefly imagined glimmered—and then was gone.

  “What happened to the idea of your entering the church?”

  Luke was glad that she wasn’t laughing at the idea. “That opportunity was long ago,” he said. “I mentioned earlier tha
t my life had taken some unexpected turns that have led me to the here and now. I loved my studies at the university. If I was perhaps more interested in the intellectual side of religion, I would have still made a good minister, but I was accused of something so horrible that I was no longer an acceptable candidate.”

  And then he told her about Belinda Fuquay’s accusations and his response. He didn’t make excuses; he just gave her the facts of that terrible period of his life when all doors shut and no new ones opened. He spoke with honesty and regret. “I should have married her,” he concluded, “but I imagined the real father would step forward. I had no idea she would do what she did.”

  Carolyn reached over and gave the hand lying on the table a quick squeeze. Until she’d touched him, he had no idea he’d clinched it into a fist. Warmth stole through him, relaxing taut muscles. “Why do you think she targeted you?” she asked.

  “I’ve pondered that since it happened and have never arrived at a satisfactory explanation. I truly knew her only in passing. Maybe she thought I’d marry her for her dowry. In the end, I’ll never know.” He turned his hand over and grasped hers. His spirits were buoyed by her belief that his version of the situation was true. If only he’d had the same support from his family.

  “I should be going,” he said abruptly. If he stayed much longer he couldn’t resist the urge to gather her into his arms. He hadn’t felt this comfortable with anyone in years and didn’t want to destroy their growing closeness.

  “You’ll come again?”

  How could she doubt it? “If I’m invited,” he said.

  “You will be.”

  The warmth of her dazzling smile carried him out into the street.

  Patterns for June 1825

  Caro waited impatiently for Sanjeet to finish reviewing the documents that examined the feasibility of importing wine from Madeira. She could see his dark head bent over the papers through the door to the outer office. As he methodically turned the pages and made notes, she nudged the cut glass oil lamp and two paperweights on her desk into a slightly different configuration. She realized she was fidgeting but could do nothing about it.

  When he finally finished and stood, she pretended to be engrossed in an unread shipping schedule.

  “It’s a workable plan,” he said, entering her office. “I know this isn’t your work, so who came up with this idea?”

  “A friend. I thought it looked good, but I wanted to have your unbiased opinion.” She hoped she didn’t look too delighted with Sanjeet’s evaluation.

  He grinned as if he weren’t fooled by her attempt to suppress her excitement. “Once the new East Indiaman is in service, short hauls to places like Madeira would put one of the smaller ships to good use. Especially if the projected sales figures are correct. But the potential market seems to have been carefully researched and the sale of fortified wine appears to be steadily growing. I assume you will want to pursue this.”

  “Yes. It would make sense to have contracts in place before the new ship is finished. Assuming the shipbuilder meets the anticipated dates—”

  “Perhaps a big assumption.” Sanjeet raised his eyebrows and gave her an apologetic smile. He’d recently been spending a lot of time at the Blackwall Yard, coaxing the shipbuilder into staying on schedule.

  Caro smiled back. “I’ve no doubt your persistence will ensure that Rydell’s Pride will launch very close to when expected. If that’s the case, Fancy’s Flight should be available to try this shorter run.”

  “Do you want me to begin working on this?”

  “Not immediately. I thought I’d see if the friend who had the idea wanted to be involved.”

  Caro could tell that Sanjeet wanted to quiz her about this mysterious “friend,” but he wisely chose to forego that line of inquiry and returned to his own work. She wished she too could get something done, but her mind was now firmly fixed on her friend—for Luke had indeed proved to be one.

  And that was the problem.

  Over the past month, she’d come to want something more than friendship from him. But Luke had dutifully stuck to the role she’d assigned, restricting physical contact to a brief brush of his lips across her forehead when he left her house after dinner. At least they’d progressed to meeting for dinner twice a week and the intimacy of using first names, but she wanted more—and wasn’t sure how to get it.

  She’d attempted seduction last week by wearing a sari to dinner. Her late husband Charles had told her the consensus of the men at the English clubs in Calcutta was that there was nothing more exotic and alluring than a woman in Indian dress. This must have been the opinion of only men on the Indian subcontinent, however, since wearing a sari seemed to have no effect on Luke at all. If anything, he was more meticulously proper than ever.

  Of course, this was the same evening that he’d arrived with his idea of importing Madeira. His extensive research confirmed that the market for the wine was expanding and that of all vintages, Madeira was the most consistent and undamaged by transport. Luke had presented his written report like the gift she took it to be. His enthusiasm about his findings was contagious, and she’d forgotten to be seductive in her own delight with the scheme.

  When she thought it was a legal necessity, she’d asked him outright to be her lover. Perhaps that was the best way to handle the situation. But fear of rejection kept her silent. He’d be coming again for dinner in two nights, and she needed to come to some sort of decision.

  She worried the problem like a loose tooth. With chagrin, she realized finding a solution to this was more important to her than where and when her ships were sailing.

  Luke lounged against a column at the edge of the ballroom and watched the swirl of color around him. He didn’t look for Caro, since he knew she wasn’t attending this ball. He wouldn’t be here himself except he’d promised Tremaine he’d distract Sir Reginald Cleary when asked. Luke had no idea what Tremaine was up to, but the man did love to secretly skulk around. Since Luke had made use of this ability, even if it hadn’t been fruitful, he couldn’t refuse to help Tremaine in return when asked.

  The orchestra began a new set—a waltz. Lord, he wished he’d convinced Carolyn that she should come. He’d dearly love to glide around the room with her in his arms. But she was adamant about staying out of the public’s eye. He hoped this wasn’t an indication she didn’t want her name attached to his in any way.

  Their time together had fallen into a pattern over the past month. He’d initially gone to dinner at her house once a week, but that had now expanded to twice. They’d also progressed to where he now anticipated a goodnight kiss. He wanted more, of course, but had not pressed her. She continued to want only friendship and, even if it took all his self-control, he’d give her friendship.

  Last week, however, he’d been hard pressed to ignore his raging lust. He’d arrived to find her dressed in an all-too-tempting red sari. The gold threads in the diaphanous material had caught the candlelight, and she’d shimmered like a flame. Even though the style was flowing, the sari had lovingly highlighted each of her delectable curves and illustrated how alluring and supple the female body could be when not encased in a corset.

  He’d wanted to pull her into an embrace and explore every inch of her tantalizing body. When he’d glimpsed her bare feet, one slender ankle encircled by a gold band, he’d nearly come undone. He’d been thankful he’d arrived with some notes on suggested imports. It gave him something else to think about. But it had been hard. Actually, he’d been hard, and he hadn’t wanted to scare Carolyn away with the knowledge of his reaction.

  Lord, he was becoming aroused just thinking about how she’d looked. He forced his attention back to the twirling dancers, but even the most arresting of the beautiful women waltzing around the room looked bland by comparison.

  “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  At the sound of the familiar, bored drawl, Luke pasted a pleasant smile on his face and turned to greet the younger of his two half-brothers
. David was eleven years Luke’s senior, and the two men had long ago decided they had little to say to one another. Whereas their eldest brother, Templeton, was truly humorless and rigid, David’s propriety was assumed. David indulged in debaucheries that Luke could only imagine, but David’s pretense of moral rectitude had fooled most of the ton.

  Tonight, his wife Patience accompanied him. If there was ever a woman more aptly named, Luke had not met her. Patience had to exemplify that virtue to put up with her philandering husband, whose primary goal seemed to be to spend her inheritance as quickly as he could.

  “David. Patience. I hadn’t thought to see you here either.” His words trailed off as all his thoughts scattered. His breath caught in his throat as his attention fixed on the necklace draped around Patience’s neck. A thick gold chain supported a large, pear-shaped yellow diamond surrounded by smaller clear stones.

  He’d never before seen the necklace, but the canary diamond was very familiar. He distinctly remembered his mother pouring the brilliant stones from a leather bag onto her bedspread. He saw his own childish hands arranging the sparkling gems into a pyramid shape topped by the big, yellow diamond. The cut, the color, was firmly etched in his mind. No wonder Tremaine hadn’t found the jewels in Templeton’s safe. David had had them all along.

  “You’re in good looks tonight, Patience,” Luke forced out. “Is that a new necklace? It’s lovely.”

  Patience flushed with pleasure. She was a retiring, plain woman, but anyone would have sparkled wearing such a gem. “Thank you, Lord Lucien. My husband recently gave me this wonderful necklace for our anniversary.” She beamed up at David. “I’m afraid his valet spoiled his surprise a bit, however, when he found the package in his coat and gave it to me.”

  “David has always been thoughtful.” Luke was amazed he could utter such a lie with a straight face. He wondered if the valet who’d handed the packet to Patience was still in David’s employ. He suspected the necklace had been intended for a different neck than the one it now adorned.