‘Why should that worry you?’
‘It doesn’t, but it should worry you.’
‘Oh, my reputation is spotless. No one would believe it.’
They were in the small reception hall. Caro pulled on her cloak. It was made of serviceable wool and quite unadorned, worn for its all-enveloping properties, as was the wide, plain hat she had chosen. Sebastian tucked her hand into his arm as they went down the steps of Mrs Foster’s house and began to walk along Great Russell Street. It was not quite dark, but the lamps were already lit on the few carriages which passed. The air had a tang to it which Caro could not get used to, of coal and dust, so different from the sharp, clean smell of the air at Killellan. As always at this time of the evening, with the night stretching ahead, there was a sense of excitement, a tension, of a city waiting for the cover of dark to fall before bursting into life.
‘You know perfectly well that you should not have been at that woman’s house tonight without even your maid to accompany you,’ Sebastian said.
‘What Papa and Bella don’t know cannot harm them,’ Caro responded flippantly. ‘It seems to me that if they knew that you were accompanying me across London in the dark, they’d be a lot more concerned than if they discovered I’d attended a séance and conversed with a courtesan.’
‘Their fears would be quite groundless. I never seduce innocents. Dammit, someone ought to be keeping a closer eye on you.’
‘Oh, but they think they are. However, as I discovered tonight, it is remarkably easy to dupe people into believing one is doing as one ought when they don’t actually care. Papa leaves us girls to Bella, and Bella is so very taken up with her darling boys that she has very little time to supervise us.’
Sebastian threw her a strange look. ‘I would have thought that Lord Armstrong would show a great deal of care about who you do—or do not—spend your time with, since the whole point of the Season...’
‘Is to make a match. Papa has taken a great deal of care. He has drawn up a list, and handed the list to Bella, whose job it is to orchestrate the introductions, while it is my job to make myself charming, as you would have noted for yourself had you frequented any of the numerous parties or balls I have dutifully attended.’
‘I have no wish to become the prey of some matron determined to snare a husband for her daughter. There is no more terrifying creature in all the world than a mama with the scent of marriage in her nostrils.’
Caro laughed. ‘It is true, there are times when I feel as if I am being paraded around like a prime piece of horseflesh. I am twenty years of age, and my entire life is already mapped out for me. A Season to catch a husband who will embellish my father’s position, a few years of docile matrimony to produce the requisite heirs, then I shall no doubt be retired to the country to rear them while my husband enjoys himself in the town as every other husband does.’
‘That is a very jaded point of view.’
‘Oh, I don’t really mean it. I am merely a little—it is nothing. What else is someone like me to do, if not marry?’
‘Attend séances.’
‘Oh, tonight was a—a temporary aberration.’ Caro gave herself a little shake. ‘I am perfectly content to marry one of the men Papa has picked out for me. Though Cassie and Celia have made excellent marriages, they were neither of his choosing. It is only right that one of his daughters does as he bids, for it seems to me that Cressie—never mind, it doesn’t matter.’
‘It obviously does. Tell me.’
She hesitated, but he did seem to be genuinely interested, and the urge to confide in someone was strong now that even the prospect of hearing from Mama had disappeared. ‘I know Cressie is not happy, though when I ask her if anything is wrong, she tells me that there is nothing. But I know there is. She tries so hard to pretend, but I know she hates going to dances and she would much rather be alone with her mathematical books than talking about fashion over the teacups.’
‘Mathematics!’
‘Cressie is the clever one. She is practically a genius,’ Caro said proudly. ‘She has been working on a mathematical theory of cards, something to do with probability and chance. It’s all a bit over my head, but she claims that the system she has developed for faro is foolproof. I would love to be able to surprise her by proving that it is.’
‘And how would you propose to do that?’ Sebastian said warily.
‘You are a great rake, are you not? Well, you must be, because they call you the Heartless Heartbreaker.’
‘A stupid name. I doubt any of the women I have had dealings with have a heart to break.’
‘Rakes are notorious gamesters.’
‘Cards are not one of my vices.’
‘Drink then. Though I confess, I’ve never understood the attraction. What is the point of drinking to excess, if you cannot remember, the next morning, whether you enjoyed yourself or not?’
‘Or whether you had done anything scandalous or not,’ Sebastian added drily.
‘Had you had too much wine then, when you drove hell for leather in the curricle you raced to Brighton, or when you swam the length of the Serpentine in the depth of winter for a wager, or when you climbed to the top of the clock tower of St Paul’s?’
‘Had I been in my cups when I climbed St Paul’s I would most likely be dead. It might surprise you to know, Lady Caroline, that I am not accustomed to drink to excess.’
‘It is Caro. What possessed you to do such dangerous things?’
‘What possessed you to ride a horse you could not control?’
She was forced to smile. ‘Touché. Would it cause a great scandal if you were to take me to a gambling hell?’
He stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. ‘Not at all, that would be perfectly acceptable since you and I are acquainted. I recommend we try Crockford’s, known as Fishmonger’s Hall amongst the savvy. The stakes are prodigious there, and their reputation for fleecing every flat who enters the hallowed portals is second to none. Your sister’s mathematical system will get a thorough examination, and if it works you will earn a small fortune in the process. I am jesting, I hasten to add, before you get any silly ideas.’
She had not been entirely serious, but Sebastian’s teasing dismissal raised her hackles just as it had four years ago, when he told her she could not ride his horse. Were it not for the turn the conversation had taken, she would never have dreamed of doing any such a thing as visiting a hell. But she was sure she’d heard Cressie crying in her room last night. How pleased she would be when Caro presented her with the validation of her theory—if she could just persuade Sebastian to accompany her.
They were walking along Margaret Street, a few minutes from Cavendish Square. The nearer they came to her father’s house, the less Caro wanted to arrive because then Sebastian would leave her. She was acutely conscious of her gloved hand on his arm, of her cloak brushing against his leg. It was sheer chance which had brought them together tonight, for they moved in very different circles. Four years since their last meeting, and most likely there would be the same before their next. ‘You may be jesting, but I am in earnest. I would very much like to visit this Crockford’s,’ she said impulsively. ‘It would make Cressie so happy.’
‘You are being ridiculous.’
‘It is surely not entirely without precedent for ladies to frequent such establishments, wearing either masks or veils. I may indeed be fleeced, if Cressie’s theory is wrong, but I am unlikely to be ravished.’
‘Caro, you can’t mean