that wouldn’t do at all. For one, he’d told her quite plainly he had no wish to marry and she could think of few things worse than being shackled to an uninterested husband. The image of her cousin Elizabeth came forcefully to mind.
Nor did she want to cobble her future to a man with whom she had little in common, whose wit engaged her but who agitated and discomforted her every time she was near him, filling her with powerful desires she had no idea how to manage.
Before she could analyse the matter any further, a rapid patter of footsteps in the hallway and the buzz of raised voices announced the imminent return of her stepmother.
Praying Lady Melross had not accompanied her, Caro braced herself for the onslaught.
A moment later, the door flew open and Lady Denby burst into the room, Eugenia at her elbow. ‘Is it true?’ her stepsister demanded. ‘Did Mr Ransleigh truly … debauch you in the conservatory, as Lady Melross claims?’
‘He did not.’
‘Oh, thank heavens!’ Lady Denby exclaimed. ‘That dreadful woman! I knew it had to be naught but a malicious hum!’
‘There was an … altercation,’ Caro allowed. ‘But events did not unfold as Lady Melross supposed.’
‘Surely she didn’t find you wrapped in Mr Ransleigh’s arms, your gown in disarray, your bodice torn?’ Eugenia asked.
‘My gown had been damaged, but it was not—’
‘Oh, no!’ Eugenia interrupted with a wail. ‘Then you are ruined. Indeed, we are both ruined! I shall never have my Season in London now!’ Clapping a hand to her mouth, she burst into tears and rushed into her adjoining room, slamming the door behind her.
Lady Denby stood pale-faced and trembling, tears tracking down her own cheeks as she looked at Caro reproachfully. ‘Oh, Caro,’ she said faintly, ‘how could you? Even if you had no concern about your own future, how could you jeopardise Eugenia’s?’
‘Please, ma’am, sit and let me explain. Truly, it is not as bad as you think. I’m certain that virtually nothing the detestable Lady Melross told you is accurate.’
Lady Denby allowed herself to be shown to a seat and accepted a glass of sherry, which she sipped while Caro related what had actually transpired. When she got to the part about how Mr Ransleigh’s timely arrival had prevented Henshaw from overpowering her, Lady Denby cried out and leapt to her feet, wrapping Caro in her arms.
‘Oh, my poor dear, how awful for you! Bless Mr Ransleigh for having the courage to intervene.’
‘I owe him a great debt,’ Caro agreed, settling her stepmother back in her chair. ‘Which is why we need to somehow stop Lady Melross from circulating the falsehood that he compromised me. I can hardly repay Mr Ransleigh’s gallantry by forcing him to offer for me, a girl he hardly knows. That would not be fair, would it?’
‘It doesn’t seem right,’ Lady Denby admitted. ‘But if you don’t marry someone … how are we to salvage anything? And my dear, the truth is, this scandal could ruin Eugenia’s Season as well!’
‘Surely not! She’s not even a Denby! Once Lady Gilford and Mrs Ransleigh learn the truth, I’m certain they will enlist their friends to ensure my difficulties do not reflect badly on my stepsister.’
That hope seemed to reassure Lady Denby, for she nodded. ‘Yes, perhaps you are right. Grace and Jane would think it monstrous for poor Eugenia to suffer for Henshaw’s villainy. But how are we to salvage your position, my dear?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Caro evaded, guiltily aware that she had no desire to ‘salvage’ it. ‘Will you allow me to discuss this alone with Mr Ransleigh first, before he speaks with you? I expect him at any moment.’
‘Very well,’ Lady Denby agreed with a sigh. ‘It’s all so very distressing! I must go and comfort Eugenia.’
After giving her a final hug, Lady Denby walked out. Knowing that she would be meeting Max Ransleigh again any moment set every nerve on edge.
The fact that, despite her agitation, an insidious little voice was whispering that wedding Max might not be so disastrous after all filled her with a panicky agitation that drove her once again to pace the room.
From the very first, he’d affected her differently than any other man she’d ever met. Being near him filled her with a tingling physical immediacy, a consciousness of her breasts and lips and body she’d never previously experienced.
Yesterday in the conservatory, that strange but powerful attraction had urged her to touch him, kiss him, feel his mouth and hands on her. Thought and reason vaporised into heat and need, into a burning, irresistible desire to know him, to let him know her. She’d craved that contact with a force and single-mindedness she would never have believed possible.
Even with the threat of the Curse hanging over her, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to bring her rioting senses under control and walk away if he’d made any move at all to entice her to stay.
The power Henshaw had exerted over her while she struggled to escape him had frightened her, but what Max inspired in her was even more terrifying … because she hadn’t wanted to escape it. Indeed, recalling him poised motionless on the bench, inviting her kiss, making no move to cajole or entice, letting her own desire propel her to him, was more coercive than any force he could have employed.
She’d been as powerfully in his thrall as … as her cousin Elizabeth had once been to Spencer Russell, the reprobate she’d married. The man who’d charmed and wed and betrayed, and almost bankrupted her cousin before a fortuitous racing accident had brought to an end Elizabeth’s humiliating existence as a disdained and abandoned wife.
Caro did not want to be ensnared by an emotion that dazzled her out of her common sense, nor be held captive by a lust so strong it paralysed will and smothered rational thinking.
Just as she reached that conclusion, a rap sounded at the door.
Her heartbeat stopped, then recommenced at a rapid pace as a stinging shock rippled through her, setting her stomach churning. Wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on her gown, she took a deep breath and walked to open the door.
As expected, Max Ransleigh stood on the threshold. Looking solemn, he took her hand and kissed her fingers.
A second wave of sensation blazed through her. Clenching her fists and jaw to try to dampen the effect, she mumbled an incoherent welcome and led him to a chair. Though she was still too agitated to want to sit, knowing he would not unless she did so, she forced herself into the place opposite him.
‘I’m so sorry to have involved you in this,’ she began before he could speak. ‘Though I did invite you to compromise me, I hope you realise I had no part in setting up the situation in the conservatory today! I would never have gone behind your back to create a scandal in which you’d already assured me you wanted no part.’
‘I believe you,’ he said, calming her fears on that matter, at least. ‘I
