Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

It would be easier to be a silly, simpering featherhead, Caro decided as she jammed the book into her reticule.

An active imagination could be a curse as well as a blessing.

Heaving an inward sigh, Caro looped the strings over her wrist and went downstairs to meet her mother for the carriage ride out to the party.

A plateful of creamed lobster patties and a goblet of sparkling champagne punch did little to brighten Caro’s spirits, despite the festive mood of the party.

It was a lovely late summer afternoon, with the first blush of evening hovering on the horizon. All around her, the other guests strolled within the high-hedged swath of garden, enjoying the rich assortment of delicacies and wines. A mild breeze swirled through the lush plantings, perfuming the air with the sweet scent of roses and lilac as it ruffled the stylish gowns of silk and satin worn by the ladies. The jeweltone fl

utters were nearly as colorful as the blooms, their sun-dappled hues accentuated by the darker hues of the gentlemen’s dress coats.

Caro forced a smile as she listened to Andover and Isobel’s cheerful chatter about the previous evening’s dancing. But as they turned to fetch a selection of cream tarts from one of the refreshment tables, she drifted over to the far hedge and ducked through the opening to escape from the sounds of laughter and the serenading violins.

Following the winding gravel path, she passed by several walled garden nooks before finding herself at the crest of a wide, sloping lawn, where a massive fountain of ornately carved marble marked the end of the formal walkway.

Struck by the sheer scale of it, she stopped short to stare up at the cavorting dolphins and mermaids.

Is every creature under the sun—including those sculptured from stone—in a merry mood save for me?

After watching the gold-flecked sunlight play across the glistening white figures, Caro felt a little ashamed of her maudlin mood.

“Oh, don’t be so cynical,” she muttered to herself.

“Arrgh.” A sudden watery whisper of breeze-ruffled droplets seemed to gurgle in agreement.

A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. Whether she liked it or not, imagination was part of her—

“Arrgh.” The gurgle came again, louder and more distinct. It sounded… human.

Mystified, Caro looked upward, for it seemed to be coming from the very top of the fountain. Craning her neck, she edged a step sideways, trying to peer into the huge half-open clamshell balanced atop the noses of the highest leaping dolphins.

“Help, help!” A bedraggled little girl peeked out from the slivered space, a tangle of wet ribbons and dripping curls framing her face.

Caro quickly climbed atop the circular bench carved into the fountain’s base. “Don’t move, sweetheart,” she called, fearing the child might tumble from the precarious perch.

“I can’t—I’m stuck!” came back the reply.

“Oh, dear—are you hurt?” she asked. “I’ll run and fetch help—”

“NO!” cried the little girl. “Please don’t. I’ll be in terrible trouble if I’m discovered. I’m not supposed to be here.”

Caro repressed a wry laugh. That had a very familiar ring, she thought, recalling all the times she had trailed after her older sisters, determined to share their adventures.

“I could climb down myself, but the back of my dress is snagged on a bit of stone.” The face disappeared, muffling the rest of her words. “And. I. Can’t. Reach. It!”

“Sit still,” ordered Caro as she eyed the intricate carvings. There were plenty of juts and crevices—climbing up would be easy, despite the smooth, slippery surface. But there was no getting around the fact that the shower of cascading water would leave her wet to the bone.

Ah, well. I shall think of some excuse—

“Perhaps I can be of help to the damsel in distress.

Caro whirled around at the sound of Alec’s drawl.

“My clothing will suffer far less from a soaking than yours will,” he pointed out.

“But what of your dignity, sir?” she countered.

“You think me so stiff-rumped?” He was already removing his boots and stockings.