Confessions at Midnight

Chapter Seven

Holding a glass of lemon flavored punch, Carolyn stood in the drawing room of Lord and Lady Gatesbourne's elegant Grosvenor Square mansion and nodded at whatever Sarah was saying. Her sister had been chatting for several minutes, and while Carolyn felt certain that whatever tale she was relaying was fascinating, she still found her attention wandering. To the very thing she didn't wish to think about.

Lord Surbrooke.

Blast the man. Why couldn't she simply banish him from her thoughts? The fact that he seemed branded in her mind was both confusing and utterly vexing. It was as if her brain had developed a freakish resistance to doing what she wanted it to do-which was to forget everything that had to do with Lord Surbrooke. His crooked smile. His dark blue eyes. His handsome face.

His devouring kiss.

And its devastating effect on her.

Even now, hours after he'd departed her home, heat crept up her spine at the mere thought of the way he'd held her. Touched her. Kissed her. The unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her, swirling a storm of physical wants and needs through her. Wants and needs that still, in spite of the passage of nearly twelve hours, had not abated one bit. Her skin felt hot and too tight, as if it had been soaked in warm starch.

After she'd declined the kind invitation from Lady Walsh, Lady Balsam, and Mrs. Amunsbury to visit the shops, she'd indulged in a warm bath, hoping to ease her discomfort and relax her mind. She always found a soak in her oversized tub soothing. But not today. No, today her mind had buzzed with images of Lord Surbrooke-naked-approaching the tub. His body sculpted to perfection and perfectly aroused-something he proceeded to make perfect use of. With her. In the tub.

The vivid images had left her in such a state, she'd fled the tub and spent two hours pacing, concluding that she simply couldn't attend tonight's party at Julianne's parents' home. She'd planned to go, had looked forward to spending the evening with Sarah, Julianne, and Emily, but he was going to be there.

I knew it was you the instant I saw you. His words filled her with the most confusing combination of guilt and excitement. She hadn't been able to admit to him that she'd known his identity the instant she saw him. To do so would have forced her to acknowledge out loud that theirs hadn't been a chance, anonymous encounter. Her only protection against him, the things he made her feel, was to feign ignorance. Otherwise that anonymous meeting would be changed into a deliberate choice… a choice to share intimacies with a man who wasn't her husband. Who wasn't Edward. The man she'd loved, still loved.

But Edward is gone, her inner voice whispered.

Yes. And she was alive. Something Lord Surbrooke had made very evident. But how could she deliberately choose to be with another man? A man who wanted them to become lovers.

And that was why she had ultimately decided to attend the party. Because staying away would be tantamount to admitting she wanted to be his lover but was too afraid to say so. Which was untrue. She wasn't afraid to tell him what needed to be said-that she would not, could not, be his lover. And until such time as she could find a private moment to deliver her decision, she'd adopt an air of cool indifference.

Except she couldn't quite manage to find her air of cool indifference.

The fact that even while standing in this crowded, noisy drawing room she couldn't think of anything save sensual images of her and Lord Surbrooke, naked, in a bathtub… well, that didn't bode well at all.

Heat sizzled through her, and she pulled in a deep breath, nodding absently at Sarah while her gaze panned the room. Where was he? Had he decided not to attend the party? She should be glad. She was glad. In fact, she was delighted. She'd come and stood her ground and therefore had won the day, staying true to her convictions. This unwanted attraction for him would quickly fade and she'd regain her sensibilities, which he had somehow managed to sneak beneath her guard to steal. Then she and Lord Surbrooke would return to the casual friendship they'd enjoyed before the masked ball. He was clearly looking for a new bed partner. And, of course, that partner would not be her. She simply couldn't become his lover. She wasn't the sort of woman to engage in an affair, no matter how incredibly he might kiss. And make her yearn.

All she had to do now was tell him.

Therefore the least he could have done was show up this evening so she could do so. Once she put this episode behind her and moved on, life would return to normal. Her very fulfilling life did not have room for any man, and most especially not one like Lord Surbrooke, who was so… practiced. So much so that he'd made her temporarily forget herself. But she wouldn't allow it to happen again.

He's made you forget yourself twice, her pesky inner voice reminded her.

Annoyed, she shoved the voice aside. Naturally, after hearing her refusal, he would pour on his considerable charm and endeavor to change her mind, if for no other reason than to salvage his pride-she imagined that few, if any, women had ever turned him down. But she was resolute. Determined. She would not be swayed from her decision. No matter how persuasive his kisses. No matter how they made her simply… melt. No matter how thoughtful his gift of honey had been.

None of it mattered.

She had to resume the calm, sedate lifestyle she'd carved out for herself. And that certainly did not include a torrid affair with a man who, while unquestioningly attractive, was really nothing more than a spoiled, shallow seducer of women. After hearing her decision, she had no doubt he would immediately turn his attention to someone else. Another woman who would fall willingly into his arms.

That thought filled her with an uncomfortable sensation that made her feel as if her entire body had just twisted itself into a tight knot. She gripped her glass of punch so tight the intricate design cut into her fingers. Damnation, she could almost see him… taking some other nameless, faceless woman in his arms. Making hex feel all the heated, shockingly pleasurable things he'd made me feel last night and this morning.

"Don't you agree, Carolyn?"

Sarah's question yanked her from her unsettling thoughts, and she shifted her gaze to her sister, who was staring at her over the rims of her spectacles. "I beg your pardon?" she asked.

Sarah pursed her lips. "I don't believe you've heard a word I said."

Fire raced into Carolyn's face. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm… preoccupied."

Concern flashed in Sarah's brown eyes. "Are you all right?"

No. I'm overheated and frustrated and confused and it's all that aggravating man's fault. "Yes, poppet, I'm fine."

"Are you certain? You look… flushed."

The fact that her inner discomfort showed so plainly on the outside only served to rush more heat through her. "It's just a bit warm in here. What were you saying?"

"Several things. First, that Lady Crawford's murder is on everyone's lips. There's talk of husbands not allowing their wives to go anywhere unescorted. When we arrived, Julianne said her father threatened not to allow her out of the house. Matthew has made me promise half a dozen times not to venture anywhere alone."

"I'm glad he's done so," Carolyn said. "Everyone I've spoken to is very concerned." She leaned closer and said in an undertone, "I see that Mr. Rayburn and Mr. Mayne are here. That makes one feel a bit safer."

"Yes," Sarah agreed, "although I'd guess they're here in more of an investigative capacity than a protective one."

A shiver ran through Carolyn. "Surely Lady Crawford's death was the result of footpads, and not someone who attended the party."

"I hope so."

"What else did you say?" Carolyn asked.

"He still hasn't sent me a note."

"He? Note?"

Sarah pushed her glasses higher on her nose, and for the first time Carolyn noticed that her normally imperturbable sister seemed very… perturbed. Indeed, she appeared to be in an absolute dither.

Leaning closer, Sarah said in an agitated undertone, "Matthew. And I'm referring to the sort of note we read about in the Memoirs. I don't understand why he hasn't. Good heavens, the man thinks nothing of plying me with diamond ear bobs, yet I ask him to send me a one line note and he cannot manage it."

Carolyn's amusement was tempered by Sarah's obvious discomposed state. "Giving you diamonds rather than a note. That beast. He deserves a good thrashing."

Sarah blinked, then a sheepish expression crossed her face. "Point taken. It's just that, well, I'm anxious for him to do so. So I can experience the same excitement the Anonymous Lady described."

The knot in Carolyn's stomach cinched tighter. Those damnable excitements the Anonymous Lady had described were the catalyst that had sent all her thoughts-and actions-running amok. "He's most likely just trying to figure out the perfect time and place, poppet. Don't be so impatient."

"I suppose, but 'tis difficult when I know something so pleasurable awaits me."

She instantly thought of Lord Surbrooke… naked, aroused, climbing into her bathtub, the mental picture so vivid her breath caught. She squeezed her eyes briefly shut to banish the image. "I'm certain Matthew will send you a note soon." Then, determined to change the subject, she asked, "Have you seen Emily and Julianne?"

She craned her neck, looking around for her friends. And most certainly not hoping to catch a glimpse of him. She noted Mrs. Amunsbury, Lady Balsam, and Lady Walsh standing in a tight group near the fireplace. All three ladies were looking at her, and Carolyn couldn't help but wonder if they'd been discussing her. She inclined her head, a greeting the trio returned, then continued looking about. "There's such a crush of people it's impos-"

Her words cut off when her gaze happened upon Lord Surbrooke. He stood on the opposite side of the large, crowded room, facing her, his head bent to catch the words of a petite blond woman whose back was to Carolyn. As she watched, he laughed at something the woman said. Then, as if sensing the weight of her stare, he glanced up and their gazes met.

Carolyn felt the impact of his regard all the way down to her toes, which promptly curled into her satin slippers. For several frantic heartbeats it seemed as if his gaze bore straight through her. He offered her the briefest of nods, then returned his attention to the blonde.

A heated flush enveloped her entire body, and she had to force herself not to snatch her sister's fan and wave it furiously in front of her burning face. Myriad emotions assailed her. Disappointment, confusion, and embarrassment all collided. He'd acknowledged her, but in a wholly impersonal manner one would use with a stranger. Certainly not in any way that would indicate to her he'd kissed her senseless. Twice. And not in any way that made it appear he was happy to see her. No, he looked perfectly content to continue speaking to the blonde upon whose every word he clung.

A wave of something that felt precisely like jealousy nearly drowned her, although surely it was just annoyance. Why, the man was impossible! Kissing her as if he couldn't breathe without her one minute, then barely glancing her way the next. The blonde was welcome to Lord Surbrooke.

Lifting her chin, she returned her attention to Sarah. And discovered her sister watching her with a questioning look.

"Are you certain you're all right, Carolyn? You don't seem at all yourself. Would you like to leave? Matthew and I can accompany you home."

She shook her head and kept her attention firmly fixed on her sister. "I'm fine. Truly. Just a bit tired." Yes, tired of thinking of things best forgotten. Tired of searching the room for a man she didn't even want to see, other than to tell him she didn't wish to see him.

"I see you found Julianne. Doesn't she look lovely?"

"Julianne? No, I didn't see her. Where is she?"

Sarah shot her an odd look. "You were looking directly at her. She's speaking to Lord Surbrooke."

Carolyn blinked. Then her gaze flew across the room. And she realized that the petite blonde facing Lord Surbrooke was indeed Julianne. And Lord Surbrooke was still hanging on her every word.

"Lord Surbrooke seems to be hanging on her every word," Sarah commented in an undertone, her words eerily mirroring Carolyn's thoughts. "They make a handsome couple, don't you agree?"

A vice seemed to be compressing her chest, and she barely managed to force out, "Indeed."

And indeed they did. How could they not? Lord Surbrooke's masculine dark good looks perfectly complimented Julianne's delicate golden beauty.

"Lady Gatesbourne is watching them from near the potted palm," Sarah whispered from the side of her mouth, indicating the plant with a slight jerk of her head. "She's sizing up Lord Surbrooke with the sort of zeal I imagine an undertaker experiences when measuring one for a coffin."

A brittle laugh escaped Carolyn. "If Lady Gatesbourne is expecting to bring Lord Surbrooke up to snuff, she's in for a disappointment. The gentleman has no intention of marrying anytime soon."

"So Matthew has told me." She felt the weight of Sarah's regard. "I don't recall mentioning such to you, however."

Carolyn pulled her gaze away from the striking couple. "Lord Surbrooke told me himself."

"Indeed? When?"

Carolyn hoped her shrug looked less forced than it felt. "During one of our conversations," she said vaguely. Her conscience slapped her for her less than forthcoming answer, but she knew if she mentioned Lord Surbrooke's visit to her home that morning, her curious sister would ask endless questions-questions she had no desire to answer.

Sarah nodded. "Ah, at Matthew's house party. 'Tis a shame he's so set against marriage. He's a very fine man."

Carolyn's brows shot up. She'd always considered Sarah an excellent judge of character. And Lord Surbrooke was nothing more than a shallow, albeit charming, rake. Just a handsome exterior covering a pleasure-seeking shell. "You think so?"

Sarah's vigorous nod sent her spectacles sliding down her nose. "Oh, yes. He's been Matthew's closest friend for years. From everything Matthew's told me, Lord Surbrooke is loyal and honorable and very kind." She waggled her brows at Carolyn. "And he certainly isn't difficult to look at."

"No, he certainly isn't," she concurred, for to do anything else would have sparked Sarah's lively curiosity. She bit her tongue to ruthlessly squelch the barrage of questions about him that begged to be asked. She knew everything she had to-that he wanted to bed her-and she wasn't going to fall in with his tempting, er, unacceptable plan.

"Based on the way Lord Surbrooke is smiling and laughing, he and Julianne obviously aren't discussing the topic on everyone else's lips."

Lips… yes, his lips… those perfect lips. That had kissed her so… perfectly. His lips… his lips… damnation, she'd once again lost the thread of the conversation. "I beg your pardon?"

Sarah shot her an odd look. "They don't appear to be discussing the murder."

"No." What were they discussing? She glanced across the room once more. Humph. Surely a chat about the weather wouldn't cause that twinkle in Lord Surbrooke's eyes. And what was this? He was leaning forward, as if to whisper something in Julianne's ear.

At that precise moment Mrs. Amunsbury, Lady Walsh, and Lady Balsam approached, blocking her view. "Heavens, you both look so serious," said Lady Walsh, her curious gaze bouncing between Carolyn and Sarah. She lowered her voice and asked, "Are you discussing the murder? Why, it's nothing short of a public outcry. Everyone is outraged and frightened for their safety."

Before either Carolyn or Sarah could answer, Mrs. Amunsbury, quizzing glass raised, said, "They weren't the discussing the murder. Anyone can see they're discussing the very handsome Lord Surbrooke."

"Yes," agreed Lady Balsam, "who is now leading Lady Julianne onto the dance floor."

Carolyn's gaze flew across the room. Lord Surbrooke and Julianne, both of them smiling, approached the parquet dance floor. Where he would hold her in his strong arms. And gaze at her with his beautiful blue eyes. And Julianne would experience the heady pleasure of whirling around the room with him. Of his attention fixed upon her. Know the feel of her hand clasped in his. His hand resting on the small of her back.

An unpleasant sensation gripped her midsection and she dragged her gaze back to her companions.

"He's been quite busy today," Lady Balsam murmured.

"Indeed," agreed Lady Walsh, a half smile playing around the corners of her mouth. She turned her attention to Carolyn. "First a call upon you, now a dance with one of your closest friends. I wonder who will be next?"

Mrs. Amunsbury lifted a perfectly arched brow and a knowing smile curved her lips. "No doubt the scoundrel saw half a dozen women between this morning's call upon Lady Wingate and now."

"Lord Surbrooke called upon you?" Sarah asked, her brows hiked all the way up.

Carolyn cursed the flush she felt warming her face. "Just briefly, to make certain I was all right after hearing about the murder."

"Very gentlemanly of him," Lady Balsam said, her catlike gaze fixed on Carolyn.

Another flush washed through Carolyn. There was no missing the insinuation in Lady Balsam's words, nor the speculation in her eyes. Raising her chin, she replied calmly, "Yes, it was a kind gesture. We are neighbors, you know."

"Yes, dear, we know," said Lady Walsh, her tone ripe with amusement. Her gaze shifted, then she said, "We've been searching for Lord Heaton everywhere and I've just now spotted him. Will you excuse us?"

She moved off, Lady Balsam and Mrs. Amunsbury following in her wake. Carolyn watched them melt into the crowd and tried to push away her uneasiness.

It seemed clear they suspected Lord Surbrooke's visit this morning had been less than innocent. She involuntarily raised her hand and brushed her fingers over her lips while a mental image of him kissing her flickered through her mind.

Fine. It had been less than innocent. But it wasn't as if they were having an affair.

"There you are!" came Emily's voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Have you ever seen such a crush? People say they're concerned about a murderer lurking about, yet rather than staying safely at home they're all here, talking feverishly about the crime." She turned to Sarah. "You might want to rescue your husband. My aunt Agatha has trapped him near the potted palm in the corner and he's far too polite to escape."

Sarah craned her neck in the direction of the potted palms. "I wouldn't worry. He's very adept at such situations. Besides, if he suffers a bit, it's no less than he deserves for not yet sending me the time and place Memoirs note."

Carolyn's gaze involuntarily shifted to the dance floor. Lord Surbrooke was smiling down at Julianne as they waltzed in perfect unison. Julianne, her beautiful face flushed a delicate pink, smiled in return. A lump seemed to clog Carolyn's throat and she gave herself a mental slap then forced her errant attention back where it belonged.

"There's speculation that Lady Crawford's death wasn't the result of a botched robbery, but a deliberate act," Emily said. "Perhaps committed by a past or current lover."

"Who told you that?" Carolyn asked.

"I've spoken to so many people. Lord Tolliver perhaps? Gossip has it that Lord Warwick was her latest paramour and that he's been questioned by the magistrate and a Runner."

"Everyone who attended the masque is being questioned," Sarah said.

"Yes," Emily agreed. "But special interest is being paid to several people, Lord Warwick among them, although I've heard that he has an alibi." She lowered her voice and confided, "If you ask me, they should question Mr. Jennsen."

"Why do you say that?" Carolyn asked.

Emily raised her brows. "Am I the only one who's noticed the number of strange happenings that have occurred since his arrival in England?"

"Don't be absurd," Sarah scolded. "Just because you don't like the man-"

"I don't," Emily agreed, "and-" Whatever else she was about to add was lost when she suddenly stiffened and puckered her lips. "Botheration, here he comes. If you'll excuse me, I'd rather stare at the wallpaper than make conversation with that man."

With that she turned and stalked away, quickly melting into the crowd.

Carolyn blinked. What was that all about? Emily was normally very genial and good-natured. Could Mr. Jennsen be one of the many people to whom Emily's father was deeply in debt? Could that be the source of her uncharacteristic animosity?

"Good evening, ladies," Mr. Jennsen said, stopping in front of them. His gaze flicked in the direction Emily had just gone, then he offered them both a smile and a formal bow. "I am clearly the luckiest man in the room to find myself in the company of not one, but two such lovely women."

"Don't be fooled," Carolyn said in a loud, teasing whisper to Sarah. "I'm certain he has said that to every group of women he's joined this evening."

"I've done no such thing," Mr. Jennsen said, his dark eyes gleaming.

"Which means he's only just arrived," Sarah whispered loudly to Carolyn.

They all laughed, then after exchanging a few pleasantries, Sarah fanned herself and said, "There are so many people, and it's so warm in here… if you'll excuse me, I need a bit of fresh air."

Carolyn studied her sister, noting her pale cheeks, which should have been flushed, given the heat of the room. "I'll go with you," she said.

"I'd be happy to escort you both," Mr. Jennsen added.

"Thank you, but you two stay and chat," Sarah said with a wave of her hand. "Matthew is standing by the doors leading to the terrace. I'll rescue him from his current conversation. Besides, I want to mention the Memoirs note to him again." She mumbled the last, and Carolyn wondered if her sister even realized she'd spoken the words out loud.

"Memoirs note?" Mr. Jennsen asked as Sarah walked away.

"Oh, nothing," Carolyn said lightly. Yet the half-knowing, half-amused look in Mr. Jennsen's eyes made her wonder if he knew about the latest rage.

His gaze swept over her pale aqua gown with unmistakable appreciation. "You were lovely as Galatea, but you are even more stunning as yourself."

"Thank you," she said with a smile, and wondered why she felt so relaxed in his company. Although not classically handsome, he was undeniably attractive-masculine and powerful-and possessed a darkly sensual edge. So why didn't he render her breathless? Why wasn't she imagining him naked with her in the bath? Surely if her current flustered state was merely the result of the Memoirs, then any attractive man would do.

"I suppose you've heard of Lady Crawford's death," he said.

"Yes. I'm stunned and saddened."

"I'd only just met her at the masquerade."

Recollection tickled Carolyn's memory. "She was the costumed wench admiring your pirate garb. You spoke to her after we talked."

He nodded. "Yes. She was laughing, so vibrant. I can hardly believe she died only a few hours later. I hope you're taking care not to venture off alone."

The music ended, followed by a round of polite applause. Carolyn's errant gaze once again shifted to the dance floor and riveted on Lord Surbrooke escorting Julianne toward her mother. He glanced in Carolyn's direction, but rather than looking at her, his gaze riveted on Mr. Jennsen. She watched him bestow a kiss upon Julianne's fingers-a gesture that sizzled an uncomfortable sensation down her spine-then he started making his way toward her. Or perhaps toward Mr. Jennsen, as that's who his attention seemed fixed upon.

Since she had no desire to speak to Lord Surbrooke in front of the very observant Mr. Jennsen, she hastily said, "If you'll excuse me, I see a friend I've been looking for."

Mr. Jennsen made her a bow. "Enjoy your evening, my lady."

Carolyn quickly made her way into the crowd, then circled around, intending to head for Julianne. Enjoy her evening? She hoped to. Because thus far she most certainly had not.