For a moment, his companions looked on in total bewilderment. Then Caroline chuckled, her eyes dancing. “Oh. Did you meet Maria Pavlovska?”
“Yes, I did!” said Hugo, emerging from his depression. “Allow me to inform you, Miss Twinning, that your sister is a minx!”
“I know that,” said Caroline. “Though I must say, it’s rather trying of her.” In answer to Max’s look of patent enquiry, she explained. “Maria Pavlovska was a character Arabella acted in a play on board ship. A Polish countess of—er—” Caroline broke off, blushing.
“Dubious virtue,” supplied Hugo, hard pressed.
“Well, she was really very good at it,” said Caroline.
Looking at Hugo’s flushed countenance, none of the others doubted it.
“Where was I?” asked Caroline, trying to appear unconscious. “Oh, yes. Well, all that was left to do was to get Sir Ralph to the gazebo. Sarah apparently did that.”
Darcy nodded. “Yes. I saw her.”
Max waited for more. His friend’s silence brought a considering look to his eyes.
“So, you see, it’s all perfectly all right. It’s Harriet Jenkins who has gone with Sir Ralph. I gather he proposed before they left and Miss Jenkins’s family approved the match, and as they are headed straight back to Gloucestershire, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Oh, and Mr. Minchbury proposed last night and the Crowbridges accepted him, so all’s ended well after all and everyone’s happy.”
“Except for the four of us, who’ve all aged years in one evening,” retorted Max acerbically.
She had the grace to blush. “I came as soon as I found out.”
Hugo interrupted. “But they’ve forgotten one thing. It’s all over town that Arabella eloped with Keighly.”
“Oh, no. I don’t think that can be right,” said Caroline, shaking her head. “Anyone who was at the unmasking at the Penbrights’ ball would know Arabella was there until the end.” Seeing the questioning looks, she explained. “The unmasking was held at one o’clock. And someone suggested there should be a…a competition to see who was the best disguised. People weren’t allowed to unmask until someone correctly guessed who they were. Well, no one guessed who Maria Pavlovska was, so Arabella was the toast of the ball.”
Max sat back in his chair and grinned tiredly. “So anyone putting about the tale of my ward’s elopement will only have the story rebound on them. I’m almost inclined to forgive your sisters their transgression for that one fact.”
Caroline looked hopeful, but he did not elaborate.
Max stood and the others followed suit. Hugo, still shaking his head in disbelief, took himself off, and Darcy left immediately after. Martin retired for a much needed rest and Caroline found herself alone with her guardian.
Max crossed to where she sat and drew her to her feet and into his arms. His lips found hers in a reassuring kiss. Then, he held her, her head on his shoulder, and laughed wearily. “Sweetheart, if I thought your sisters would be on my hands for much longer, I’d have Whitney around here this morning to instruct him to break that guardianship clause.”
“I’m sorry,” mumbled Caroline, her hands engrossed in smoothing the folds of his cravat. “I did come as soon as I found out.”
“I know you did,” acknowledged Max. “And I’m very thankful you did, what’s more! Can you imagine how Hugo and I would have looked if we had succeeded in overtaking Keighly’s carriage and demanded he return the lady to us? God!” He shuddered. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.” He hugged her, then released her. “Now you should go home and rest. And I’m going to get some sleep.”
“One moment,” she said, staying within his slackened hold, her eyes still on his cravat. “Remember I said I’d tell you whether there were any gentlemen who we’d like to consider seriously, should they apply to you for permission to address us?”
Max nodded. “Yes. I remember.” Surely she was not going to mention Willoughby? What had gone on last night, after he had left? He suddenly felt cold.
But she was speaking again. “Well, if Lord Darcy should happen to ask, then you know about that, don’t you?”
Max nodded. “Yes. Darcy would make Sarah a fine husband. One who would keep her sufficiently occupied so she wouldn’t have time for scheming.” He grinned at Caroline’s blush. “And you’re right. I’m expecting him to ask at any time. So that’s Sarah dealt with.”
“And I’d rather thought Lord Denbigh for Arabella, though I didn’t know then about Maria Pavlovska.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t deal Hugo short. Maria Pavlovska might be a bit hard to bear but I’m sure he’ll come about. And, as I’m sure Aunt Augusta has told you, he’s perfectly acceptable as long as he can be brought to pop the question.”
“And,” said Caroline, keeping her eyes down, “I’m not perfectly sure, but…”
“You think Martin might ask for Lizzie,” supplied Max, conscious of his own tiredness. It was sapping his will. All sorts of fantasies were surfacing in his brain and the devil of it was they were all perfectly achievable. But he had already made other plans, better plans. “I foresee no problems there. Martin’s got more money than is good for him. I’m sure Lizzie will keep him on his toes, hauling her out of the scrapes her innocence will doubtless land her in. And I’d much rather it was him than me.” He tried to look into Caroline’s face but she kept her eyes—were they greyish-green or greenish-grey? He had never decided—firmly fixed on his cravat.
“I’m thrilled that you approve of my cravat, sweetheart, but is there anything more? I’m dead on my feet,” he acknowledged with a rueful grin, praying that she did not have anything more to tell him.
Caroline’s eyes flew to his, an expression he could not read in their depths. “Oh, of course you are! No. There’s nothing more.”