A Regency Lady's Scandal. Кэрол Мортимер

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      ‘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?’

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