The Price of Desire Read Free

uncomfortably at one of the pale brown ringlets that framed her face. Unable to meet Caroline’s eyes, she dropped her gaze to the floor.

    Captain Bellamy turned and graced Caroline with a smile. “Miss Clemens.”

    Was it her imagination or did his eyes look shifty, as if he, too, found it hard to meet her gaze?

    Silently chiding herself, she took his proffered arm with gratitude. Her own misfortunes were causing her to see trouble everywhere, even where it did not exist. “If you will excuse us,” she said to Kitty, “the Captain and I would like to take a turn about the room.”

    Kitty had already backed away and was cowering in the corner. At Caroline’s polite dismissal, she scurried off, clearly not wishing to be involved in a confrontation.

    “I gather you have something specifically to say to me,” the Captain said in a low tone as they walked arm in arm through the room. “I presume that was your intention in frightening away poor Kitty Earnshaw. Or are you simply suffering from a fit of womanish vapors brought on by seeing me conversing with another young woman?”

    “I did not frighten her away,” Caroline protested. The hint of unkindness in his voice disturbed her greatly. He had always appeared to be the perfect gentleman—gentle, tender, and forbearing with all her many faults.

    “You did bear down on her looking more than commonly haughty and displeased. It was no wonder the poor girl could hardly speak for fright when she saw you coming. Though I’m sure you did not mean to scare her,” he added somewhat as an afterthought. “After all, what threat could she pose to you?”

    Caroline gritted her teeth. “And nor do I suffer from womanish vapors.”

    He raised one eyebrow at her tone. “I am sure you do not.”

    His tone was so patently insincere that she clenched her teeth together tightly to prevent herself from speaking. There was nothing to be gained from a quarrel with him now. However dearly she wanted to complain at his lofty attitude, she knew she could not afford to.

    Three months ago she had been a princess, today she was a pauper and reliant on the Captain’s generosity. That alone must excuse his lack of gallantry, if he was lacking in such a commodity.
     
    With a gentle pressure on his arm, she steered him toward the French doors that opened onto the balcony.

    It had rained that morning, washing the air clean of the smuts and soot that had poisoned London’s muggy summer air. The breeze was sweet with the rich scent of early autumn and the heady perfume of the late flowering tea roses.
     
    On such a night like this, with the Captain at her side, she could almost forget her troubles.

    His voice broke into her thoughts. “You are in full mourning, I see.”

    His tone of superiority irked her. He had not spoken to her like that before, or if he had, she’d never noticed it. Had he changed, or had she? “My father is dead,” she reminded him curtly. “You would hardly expect me to be cavorting around in a yellow gown and ribbons when he is scarce buried.”

    “But such deep mourning? Under the circumstances, I do not think it is quite, uh…proper. You ought at the most to be in gray or lavender.”

    Her fists were clenched so tightly at her sides that her fingernails almost drew blood. “My father is dead. No matter how he died.” Wearing deep black was a mark of respect for her father’s memory that she would not forgo. Indeed, she had gravely depleted her store of ready money to fit herself and her sisters and brother out in suitable mourning clothes.

    “I do not like it, Miss Clemens.” His face was severe. “It is not fitting.”

    “I know that we cannot marry while I am still in full mourning,” she said, making a stab at the cause of his irritation. “But a quiet ceremony at the end of six weeks would still be possible.” She was reasonably confident that she could keep her siblings fed and housed until then, even though it would mean