Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“I am not sure,” she admitted. “There was much that was wonderful. And yet…” She gave herself a little shake. “I know this may sound silly, but I sometimes felt a little lonely because I was not able to share the experiences with my sisters.”

Olivia and Anna had both been traveling with their husbands, so the townhouse on High Street had been empty, save for herself and her mother, whose health was taking a turn for the worse. It felt strange and a little unsettling. She missed her sisters dearly—the laughter, the words of wisdom. She even missed the teasing.

“I don’t think it’s silly at all,” murmured Andover. “My two brothers joined Wellington’s staff and marched off to the Peninsula last year. I miss their camaraderie.”

They walked on in silence for several moments, then Andover turned their steps to the table selling the sulfurous mineral water for which the town was famous.

“A toast,” he said, handing her a glass. “For despite any personal reservations you may have, I assure you that your debut into Society was a smashing success.”

“As to that, my sisters and their husbands have done much to smooth the way—”

He cut her off with a quick exclamation. “Fustian! You have earned the admiration all on your own.”

Her color deepened. She was sure her face must be a vivid shade of scarlet. So much for being worldly and sophisticated when a simple compliment from a friend had her near speechless in confusion.

“Indeed, I must congratulate you on attracting a bevy of ardent admirers. I vow, it was often impossible to see you through the throng of surrounding gentlemen.”

“Oh, you are teasing me.”

Andover grinned. “Just a little.”

She sipped her water, hoping it might help cool her flaming cheeks.

“I imagine you will have a number of offers to consider when you return to London,” he went on. “I suspect that Russell and Noyes are the ones who have the best hope of capturing your heart.”

They were both interesting and engaging gentlemen. But somehow—she wasn’t sure she could explain quite why—they did not light any excitement in her soul.

No spark, no fire.

And surely a poet should feel more than a mild warmth for any gentleman who was seeking to win her hand.

Her fingers tightened around her glass. “N-n-not necessarily,” she stammered.

“Oh, you can confide in me. Since your sisters aren’t around, consider me your brother.” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “So come now, which one will you accept?”

Caro looked away for a moment. Strangely enough, the only image that came to mind was of a gentleman with red-gold hair and austere features that might have been carved out of Highland granite—

No, no, no.

She quickly blotted out the mental image. It was absurd to think of the fleeting moments all those months ago when they had set aside their differences to talk of art and literature. Most assuredly he didn’t.

As Andover pointed out, there were any number of far more amiable men. Polite, adoring men.

So why didn’t that lift her spirits?

Forcing a smile, Caro made herself match his playful tone. Time enough in the solitude after midnight to try to sort out her tangled emotions. “Surely you don’t expect me to tell you before my intended?”

The twinkle in Andover’s eye became more pronounced. “I suppose that’s fair enough.”

“Assuming there is an offer I mean to accept,” Caro added hastily, hoping her cheeks weren’t on fire.

“Ah, is that why you are rusticating in Bath, rather than enjoying the attentions in London?” he inquired. “Because you are trying to make up your mind?”

She gave him what she hoped was an enigmatic smile.

“I vote for Noyes. Russell is a nice fellow, but I’m not sure he has enough backbone for you.”

The comment caused an odd pinch in her chest. “Am I that much of a headstrong hellion?”