Read Online No Regrets by Michèle Ann Young - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michèle Ann Young
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until ringlets surrounded Caro's face and a waterfall of glossy tresses fell to her shoulder. Sadly, with her straight, fine hair, it likely wouldn't last the night.
Taking a deep breath, she glanced in the mirror. The oyster silk gown delivered by Madame Charis yesterday lived up to her promise of elegance. She fiddled with a festoon of pink and cream ribbons tied under the bust. For some reason, they drew attention to her bosom, despite a high neckline. Her vaguely brown eyes were still too big, more so behind her spectacles, she thought ruefully, her mouth too full and her nose too short. Her only good feature, as far as she could tell, was a long neck, and the new hairstyle made it look as if it belonged to a giraffe.
"You'll do," Lizzie said.
For all her blunt words, Lizzie's homely face held admiration, and Caro's fluttering stomach began to settle. She tried to smile. "I don't think I look like me anymore."
Lizzie chuckled. "Perhaps that's not so bad?"
A smile tugged at her lips. "Why, thank you." A little jolt of anticipation shortened her breath. "I suppose I should go down. I should not keep everyone waiting."
Mindful of the high heels on her new satin slippers, she glided out of the room.
Further along the hallway, Lucas's valet dashed for the servants' stairs. Lucas stuck his head out of his door, missing her by inches. "The white waistcoat," he called out.
An expression of ludicrous surprise crossed his face. It was as if he'd forgotten she lived there. "Caro. I'm sorry."
Fascinated and breathless, she stared at the triangle of manly chest and its sprinkle of dark curling hair in the open neck of his shirt. She ought to look away, but her gaze remained stuck on a hollow at the base of his strong column of throat. In such careless disarray, he had the look of a ravening pirate, a dashingly handsome one.
Lifting her gaze to his face, she observed the smug curve to his lips. A black eyebrow rose in question. This time, he definitely knew what she was thinking. Fire flamed in her face.
"You look stunning," he said.
A compliment? She blinked with surprise, peering into his face in search of sarcasm. Finding none, and feeling a tiny dash of confidence, she bobbed a brave curtsey and attempted a friendly smile. It felt more like the fatuous grin of a besotted schoolgirl. "Why, thank you, my lord." She dropped an arch glance to his chest. "I wish I could say the same about you."
He cursed softly and clutched at his shirtfront.
A little surge of triumph lifted her spirits. The ability to discomfort wasn't all one-sided, it seemed. "I'll meet you downstairs," she said and continued on her way.
On reaching the first floor landing, she glanced up. He stood motionless staring down at her, the chiseled lines of his face set in hard planes and shadowed valleys like some dark angel. She shivered. He caught her eye and turned away.
* * *
Whatever Caro had expected, the crowds on Bow Street outside Convent Garden Theater exceeded it by far as the coach drew to a halt. Jarveys, theater-goers from of all walks of life, and liveried footmen jostled for position in front of the brightly lit portico.
Mr. Rivers, Lucas's cousin, a thin, dark-haired man of some forty years with a serious demeanor, assisted his mother down, while Lucas attended to Caro. A rough-looking fellow pushed past them with a woman sporting a tawdry blue gown, a quantity of flamboyant red feathers, and the heavy scent of roses.
"Take care of Lady Foxhaven, Lucas," Mr. Rivers said. "There are cutpurses among the riffraff, I'm afraid."
"She is perfectly safe with me," Lucas replied. Nonetheless, he drew her tight to his side like some treasured object he'd hate to lose.
"Is it always like this?" she gasped, narrowly avoiding a foot-skewering from an elderly gentleman's walking stick.
"Pretty much," Lucas said,
Taking a deep breath, she glanced in the mirror. The oyster silk gown delivered by Madame Charis yesterday lived up to her promise of elegance. She fiddled with a festoon of pink and cream ribbons tied under the bust. For some reason, they drew attention to her bosom, despite a high neckline. Her vaguely brown eyes were still too big, more so behind her spectacles, she thought ruefully, her mouth too full and her nose too short. Her only good feature, as far as she could tell, was a long neck, and the new hairstyle made it look as if it belonged to a giraffe.
"You'll do," Lizzie said.
For all her blunt words, Lizzie's homely face held admiration, and Caro's fluttering stomach began to settle. She tried to smile. "I don't think I look like me anymore."
Lizzie chuckled. "Perhaps that's not so bad?"
A smile tugged at her lips. "Why, thank you." A little jolt of anticipation shortened her breath. "I suppose I should go down. I should not keep everyone waiting."
Mindful of the high heels on her new satin slippers, she glided out of the room.
Further along the hallway, Lucas's valet dashed for the servants' stairs. Lucas stuck his head out of his door, missing her by inches. "The white waistcoat," he called out.
An expression of ludicrous surprise crossed his face. It was as if he'd forgotten she lived there. "Caro. I'm sorry."
Fascinated and breathless, she stared at the triangle of manly chest and its sprinkle of dark curling hair in the open neck of his shirt. She ought to look away, but her gaze remained stuck on a hollow at the base of his strong column of throat. In such careless disarray, he had the look of a ravening pirate, a dashingly handsome one.
Lifting her gaze to his face, she observed the smug curve to his lips. A black eyebrow rose in question. This time, he definitely knew what she was thinking. Fire flamed in her face.
"You look stunning," he said.
A compliment? She blinked with surprise, peering into his face in search of sarcasm. Finding none, and feeling a tiny dash of confidence, she bobbed a brave curtsey and attempted a friendly smile. It felt more like the fatuous grin of a besotted schoolgirl. "Why, thank you, my lord." She dropped an arch glance to his chest. "I wish I could say the same about you."
He cursed softly and clutched at his shirtfront.
A little surge of triumph lifted her spirits. The ability to discomfort wasn't all one-sided, it seemed. "I'll meet you downstairs," she said and continued on her way.
On reaching the first floor landing, she glanced up. He stood motionless staring down at her, the chiseled lines of his face set in hard planes and shadowed valleys like some dark angel. She shivered. He caught her eye and turned away.
* * *
Whatever Caro had expected, the crowds on Bow Street outside Convent Garden Theater exceeded it by far as the coach drew to a halt. Jarveys, theater-goers from of all walks of life, and liveried footmen jostled for position in front of the brightly lit portico.
Mr. Rivers, Lucas's cousin, a thin, dark-haired man of some forty years with a serious demeanor, assisted his mother down, while Lucas attended to Caro. A rough-looking fellow pushed past them with a woman sporting a tawdry blue gown, a quantity of flamboyant red feathers, and the heavy scent of roses.
"Take care of Lady Foxhaven, Lucas," Mr. Rivers said. "There are cutpurses among the riffraff, I'm afraid."
"She is perfectly safe with me," Lucas replied. Nonetheless, he drew her tight to his side like some treasured object he'd hate to lose.
"Is it always like this?" she gasped, narrowly avoiding a foot-skewering from an elderly gentleman's walking stick.
"Pretty much," Lucas said,
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