He looked completely unaffected by her annoyance. ‘If you choose to find the truth offensive, then who am I to argue?’ He turned to walk over to the door, coming to a halt halfway across the room as the garment he had thrown on the chair earlier drew his attention. ‘In view of your earlier reticence, it occurred to me that you might feel uncomfortable asking Simpson to find you something suitable in which to sleep, and so I brought you this.’ He indicated the white robe draped across the chair.
The thought was a kind one, Caro acknowledged—the offhand method of bestowing that kindness was not! Any more than she appreciated having Dominic Vaughn arrange for a dressmaker to call on her here later today. ‘I cannot possibly—’ She broke off abruptly as she recalled this man’s scathing comment earlier when she’d stated what she could and could not allow. ‘I am afraid, where my gowns are concerned, that your “delicate senses” will just have to continue to be offended, my lord!’
He eyed her incredulously. ‘You are saying you do not care for pretty gowns?’
Of course she liked pretty gowns—did she not secretly long for all the beautiful gowns she had left behind at Shoreley Hall? If only so that she could wear one of them to show Dominic Vaughn how fashionable she really was!
But she did not long for those pretty confections of silk and lace enough to agree to have a dress maker attend her here—almost as if she really were about to become Dominic’s mistress! ‘Not at the moment, no,’ she said mendaciously, only realising the error of answering so unguardedly as she saw the earl’s eyes narrow shrewdly.
‘And why is that, Caro?’ he prompted slowly. ‘Could it be because you believe yourself to be less conspicuous in those shabby gowns?’
She instantly bridled at the description. ‘I will have you know that these gowns cost me several crowns.’
‘Then it was money obviously wasted,’ he drawled, before adding softly, ‘I should warn you, Caro, that every attempt you make to hide your true identity from me only makes me more curious to learn exactly what or who it is you are hiding from …’
A shiver of apprehension quivered down her spine. ‘You are imagining things, sir!’ Her scorn sounded flat—and patently untrue—even to her own ears.
‘We shall see,’ Dominic said as he continued his stroll to the doorway before looking back at her briefly. ‘I trust you will bear in mind what I said to you earlier?’
She gave a weary sigh, as tired now as he had claimed to be earlier. ‘You have said so many things to me tonight—to which nugget of wisdom do you refer?’
‘I also seem to recall we have said a great many things to each other—and most of them impolite.’ The earl’s mouth twitched ruefully. ‘But the advice I am referring to now is not to attempt to leave here without my knowledge. As I have said, it is not my wish to alarm you,’ he added more gently as she visibly tensed. ‘But, until I know more about the events of this evening, I cannot stress strongly enough your need for caution.’
Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed. ‘Truly?’
‘Truly,’ he echoed grimly.
Caro could only stand numbed and silent as Dominic closed the door softly behind him as he left, the walls of the bedchamber instantly seeming to bear down on her, making her their captive.
No—making her Lord Dominic Vaughn’s unwilling captive …
Caro awoke refreshed, a smile curving her lips as she felt the sun shining upon her face while she lay snuggled beneath the warmth of the bedclothes. That smile swiftly faded as she remembered exactly where she was. Or, more exactly, who owned the bed she had been asleep in. That arrogant, silver-eyed devil Lord Dominic Vaughn, Earl of Blackstone!
Her eyes opened wide and she looked about her in alarm as she tried to gauge what time of day it was. The sun had not been shining in the bedchamber when she’d finally drifted off to sleep earlier, and now it completely lit up and warmed the room, meaning that she must have slept for several hours, at least.
Sleeping during the day had seemed decadent to her a week ago, but she had quickly learned that it was impossible for her to do anything else when the gambling club did not open until—
No, Nick’s would now not be opening at all for several days, according to Dominic, which meant she could not work there in the evenings, either. She had enough money for the moment, courtesy of Drew Butler having paid her when she’d arrived for work the previous evening. But how was she supposed to fill her time now, incarcerated at Blackstone House for several days at least?
Caro had always disliked the usual pursuits expected of women of her class; her embroidery work was nondescript, and she had no talent for drawing or painting. She rode well, but doubted she would enjoy the sedateness of riding in the London parks. Perhaps Dominic had a decent library she might explore? She had always liked to read—
What was she doing? she wondered with disgust; as she had realised earlier this morning, she was not to be a guest here, but held virtually as a prisoner, albeit in a gilded cage, until Dominic Vaughn deemed it was safe for her to leave.
She threw the bedclothes back restlessly and swung her legs to the floor before standing up, only to become instantly aware of the garment the earl had provided for her to sleep in. White in colour, and reaching almost down to her knees, with buttons from the middle of her chest to throat and at the cuffs of the long sleeves, the garment could only be one of Dominic’s own silk evening shirts.
A sensuously soft and totally decadent gentleman’s white silk evening shirt. A garment that, once it had slid softly over Caro’s nakedness, had evoked just as sensuous and decadent thoughts of the gentleman it belonged to …
Caro dropped down upon the side of the bed as she recalled the wickedness of her thoughts before she had drifted off to sleep. Of how those memories, of Dominic’s lips and tongue upon her bared breasts earlier, had once again made her breasts swell and the strawberry tips to become hard and engorged, evoking a warm rush of moisture between her thighs that had sent delightful rivulets of pleasure coursing through her when she’d clenched them tightly together. She—
‘You’re awake at last, madam.’ A young maid had tilted her head around the slightly opened door, but she pushed that door completely open now before disappearing back into the hallway for several seconds.
Long enough, thankfully, for Caro to climb quickly back beneath the bedclothes and pull them up to her chin before the maid reappeared carrying a silver tray she dearly hoped had some tea and toast upon it; she had not eaten for some time and just the thought of food caused her stomach to give an unladylike growl. She grimaced self-consciously as the smiling maid bustled about opening up the small legs beneath the tray before placing the whole across Caro’s thighs above the bedclothes.
Not only was there tea and toast, Caro realised greedily, but two perfectly poached eggs and several slices of sweet-smelling ham. ‘This looks delicious.’
‘I’m sure it will be, madam.’ The young girl bobbed a curtsy. ‘His lordship surely has the best cook in London.’
Unfortunately Caro’s appetite had suddenly deserted her. The maid’s continual use of the title ‘madam’ was a timely reminder that she was supposed to be Dominic Vaughn’s poor and widowed cousin, a deception that did not please her at all. She didn’t want to be connected to Dominic in any way, even in a falsehood!
‘Eat up, madam,’ the maid encouraged brightly as she hovered beside the bed. ‘The dressmaker has been waiting downstairs for quite some time already.’
The dressmaker Caro