A Regency Lady's Scandal: The Lady Gambles / The Lady Forfeits. Carole Mortimer

House is in Mayfair,’ he elaborated. ‘And as soon as you are dressed, and the seamstress has gone about her business, I will be only too happy to take you out for a drive in my carriage.’

      ‘Accompanied by the maid I do not have?’ she came back derisively.

      ‘We are believed to be cousins, Caro,’ he reminded her drily. ‘Making such a fuss about the proprieties would be a nonsense.’

      ‘In that case, if you would send the dressmaker up to me now I should very much like to go out for a drive.’

      Her tone, Dominic noted ruefully, was almost as imperious as Osbourne’s Aunt Gertrude’s. Further evidence, if he should need it, that Caro Morton was a woman used to instructing her own servants and having those instructions obeyed. Because she was, in fact, a lady of quality?

      He crossed the room to once again stand beside the bed. ‘Have you considered the possibility, Caro, that I might be more … amenable, if you did not constantly challenge me?’

      ‘I have considered it, my lord—and as quickly dismissed it.’ Her expression was defiant as she glanced up at him. ‘It goes completely against my nature, you see.’

      Dominic could not prevent his throaty chuckle as he looked down at her admiringly. No, he never found himself bored in Caro’s company, even when he was not making love to her! ‘I will arrange for the carriage to be brought round in an hour’s time.’ He gave her a brief bow before taking his leave.

      Caro did not move for several minutes after he had left the bedchamber, still slightly breathless from the transformation that had overcome his austere features when he laughed. Those silver eyes had glowed warmly, with laughter lines fanning out at their sides, the curve of those sculptured lips revealing the white evenness of his teeth. Even that savage scar upon his cheek had softened. The whole rendered him so devastatingly handsome that just looking at him had stolen her breath away …

      ‘Relax, Caro,’ Dominic drawled softly as she sat tensely beside him as he controlled the reins of his curricle, his two favourite greys stepping out lively in the sun-dappled park. ‘By this time tomorrow, all of society will be agog to know who was the beautiful young lady riding in the park with Blackstone in his curricle.’ And she looked every inch a lady of quality in her rose-coloured gown and matching bonnet, with several golden curls framing the delicate beauty of her face, and her hands covered in pale cream gloves.

      ‘How disappointed they will be when they learn it is only your impoverished and widowed cousin up from the country,’ she came back tartly. ‘And the last thing I desire is to become the talk of London society,’ she added with a delicate shudder.

      It was rather late for that, when to Dominic’s certain knowledge the male members of the ton, at least, had been avidly discussing the masked woman who had sung at Nick’s for the past week! Not that any of those men would recognise the blonde woman sitting so demurely beside him in his curricle as the same masked and ebony-haired siren who had entertained them so prettily at Nick’s; several of those gentlemen had already greeted Dominic as they passed in their own carriages, with no hint of recognition in their gazes as they’d glanced admiringly at the golden-haired beauty at his side.

      ‘A beautiful woman, impoverished or otherwise, is always a source of gossip amongst the members of the ton,’ he said.

      Caro glanced at him beneath long golden lashes, noting how easily he kept the two feisty greys to a demure trot as he drove his elegant curricle through the park. She had also noted the admiring glances sent his way by all of the ladies in the passing carriages, before those covetous glances had shifted coldly on to Caro, no doubt due to the fact she was the one sitting beside the eligible Earl of Blackstone in his carriage.

      Wearing a beautiful gown, and being driven through a London park in a fashionable carriage, with a wickedly handsome man at her side, had long been one of Caro’s dreams. But in those girlish dreams the man had been totally besotted with her, something she knew Dominic would never be with regard to her.

      Admittedly, the circumstances under which they had first met had been less than ideal, but if Lady Caroline Copeland and Lord Dominic Vaughn, Earl of Blackstone, had met in a fashionable London drawing room, he would certainly have behaved more circumspectly towards her.

      Except she was not, at this moment, Lady Caroline Copeland, and the earl’s casualness of manner towards her was reflective of that fact. ‘I believe I would like to return to Blackstone House now, if you please,’ she said stiffly.

      Dominic glanced down at Caro, frowning slightly as he saw the way her lashes were uncharacteristically cast down. ‘There is a blanket beside you if you are becoming chilled?’

      ‘I am not in the least chilled; I would just prefer to leave now.’ Her voice was huskily soft, but determined.

      Dominic transferred both reins to his right hand before reaching down with his left to lift Caro’s chin so that he might look into her face. Far from invigorating her, she seemed to have grown paler during the drive, and, unless he was mistaken, the glitter in her eyes was not due to her usual rebellion. ‘Are you about to cry?’ His voice sounded as incredulous as he felt.

      ‘Certainly not!’ She wrenched her chin out of his grasp and turned away. ‘I merely wish to return home, that is all. To Blackstone House, I meant, of course,’ she added awkwardly.

      Dominic had known exactly what Caro meant. Strange, in all the years he had been the Earl of Blackstone, he had never particularly regarded any of his houses or estates as being his home—how could he, when all of them were a reminder of the parents who had both died when he was but twelve years old?

      Or how, along with those memories, came the nightmare reminder of the part he had played in their deaths! Memories that were usually kept firmly at bay, but had haunted him this past few hours …

      ‘Of course.’ Dominic gave a curt nod before turning the greys in front of the curricle back towards Blackstone House. ‘Perhaps you should go to your bedchamber and rest before dinner?’

      ‘I am simply grown bored of driving in the park, Dominic; I am not decrepit!’

      He gave an appreciative smile as Caro answered with some of her usual spirit, all trace of what he had thought were tears having disappeared as she glared up at him. ‘I assure you, Caro, I would not have brought you out driving with me at all if I thought you decrepit.’

      ‘Is that because only women you consider beautiful are allowed in your curricle?’ she asked, regarding him with a scornful purse to her mouth.

      Dominic dearly wished to kiss that expression from her lips. Damn it, he had wanted nothing more than to kiss her again since she had appeared downstairs earlier looking breathtakingly beautiful in the rose-coloured gown and bonnet!

      ‘No woman, beautiful or otherwise, has ever been invited to accompany me to the park in my curricle before today,’ he admitted after a moment of silence.

      She eyed him curiously. ‘Should I feel flattered?’

      ‘Do you?’ Dominic asked.

      ‘Not in the least,’ she said with a return of her usual waspishness. ‘No doubt, as far as the gentlemen of the ton are concerned at least, it will only add to your considerable reputation if you are believed to have the ebony-haired masked lady from Nick’s in your bed at night, and a golden-haired lady in your curricle by day.’

      Dominic gave her a mocking glance. ‘No doubt,’ he agreed.

      Caro’s eyes flashed deeply green. ‘You—Dominic, there is a dog about to run in front of the carriage!’ She reached out to grasp his forearm, half-rising in her seat as the fluffy white creature ran directly in front of the hooves of the now-prancing greys, quickly followed by a young girl in a straw bonnet who seemed to have the same disregard for her own welfare as the dog as she narrowly avoided being trampled under the hoofs of the rearing horses before following the animal across the pathway, and on to the grass, and then running into the woodland