She whipped away and sauntered out, and he listened to her sneaking away. Then he sighed with pleasure.
From the minute they’d crossed paths, he’d liked her more than he should, and he’d delayed his return to London so he could continue to socialize with her. It was foolish conduct, but he’d tarried anyway.
She assumed she’d severed her betrothal, but he doubted she had. Her uncle wouldn’t merrily accept her decision. Nor would Gregory. They were determined to force the match, even though Caleb couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t as if Caroline was an heiress with a fortune.
The Grey family was rich and landed, and Samson Grey didn’t have to shackle his only son to a poverty-stricken cousin. Why would he? It made no sense, but then, in Caleb’s view, families never made sense. Just look at his own father and the mess he’d created by having two wives.
Samson Grey had arranged the union when Caroline was a girl, but she’d grown up and now had a mind of her own. It left her at odds with her relatives, so the next hours and days would be filled with drama and intrigue—and even some intense sparring.
Caro was already moving on, and she wanted a new man in her life. She hadn’t paused to wonder if he wanted to be that man. Did he?
He could see himself trifling with her, sharing torrid kisses when no one was watching. But. . .
He couldn’t fathom why he’d become more involved with her than that. If that was his opinion, what was he planning?
He had no idea, so he’d lurk in the shadows, and if he could help her deal with her male kin, he would. Other than that dubious assistance, he couldn’t predict what he might or might not do with regard to her.
In the meantime, he had to get down to supper. He rose and went to the dressing room to pick out a shirt.
Janet rounded a corner on the way to the stairs and physically bumped into Blake Ralston. She staggered, nearly fell, and he grabbed her arm to help her regain her balance.
“Why are you lurking in this hall?” she demanded.
“I was looking for you.”
“Why? Are you stalking me? Are you spying on me?”
“Yes, to both. You’ve been avoiding me, so I accuse you of cheating.”
“Your comment indicates you deem us to be involved in some sort of game.”
“It’s not a game. It’s a bet. I’m trying to prove you’re not as averse to romance as you pretend to be. If you constantly hide and surround yourself with people so I can’t get close to you, how are we to stumble on the answer?”
“I haven’t been hiding. That would mean I was afraid I’d be susceptible to your dubious charms.”
He scoffed. “You are so full of yourself.”
“I am not. I’m discerning and pragmatic.”
“No, you’re pompous and ridiculous, and you’re a coward too.”
“I’m not a coward!”
“You’re scared to find out if I’m right. It sounds cowardly to me.”
She gazed up at him, and her heart actually palpitated, as if she was a blushing debutante, which was so annoying.
She’d spent years, figuring out what kind of adult she yearned to be. She’d read, studied, and listened to wiser women talk about female roles, and she liked what she’d learned. She’d groomed herself to be an independent thinker, to have modern attitudes about everything from matrimony to child-bearing.
It was galling to admit that, deep down, she was no different from any other girl. Blake Ralston had recognized it too—before she had.
He was standing in front of her, attired in his uniform, and he created such a vision of manly strength and beauty that she was completely bowled over. It wasn’t fair for him to be so striking. It wasn’t fair for him to cause such turmoil.
From the minute he’d kissed her in the garden, she’d struggled to keep him at bay. He’d immediately deduced her ploy, and he’d been taunting her ever since. Suddenly, she was questioning what she believed about society and herself.
He’d merely showered her with a bit of attention, and she wanted to throw herself at him and engage in conduct she couldn’t describe. Her body was on fire as it had never been in the past, and she had no idea how to quell the peculiar cravings he stirred. But why should she quell them?
What if she succumbed to passion? Would the world end if she did? The female authors she idolized all claimed that women should be able to make the same amorous choices as men—and they shouldn’t be shunned for it. Was she a modern woman or not?
Was she ready to practice what she preached? Was she brave enough to seize the day? Or was she simply dull, provincial, Janet Grey, who was frightened of her own shadow?
She should probably test a few of her theories. She didn’t have to moon over him and exhaust herself with wondering if he was about to propose. She could view their relationship as a man would. They could have a brief dalliance. Why not? Men pursued them all the time. Why couldn’t she?
She would trifle with him while he was at Grey’s Corner for the wedding, then, once he departed, she’d never think of him again. It’s how a man would behave, and she tamped down a smirk. When they were finished, she’d let him down gently. They’d part on good terms. Perhaps she’d even give him a gift to remember her by.
She glanced down the hall, but saw no one. People were in their bedchambers, dressing for supper, and soon, they’d head downstairs to mingle and chat prior to the meal being served. She’d intended to go down too, having heard from a housemaid that there was trouble brewing between Caroline and Janet’s father.
Janet had to discover what was happening, but Blake had accosted her before she could. He
