Free Intimate Betrayal by Adrienne Basso Page B

with its intensity.
    “Sherry?” Morgan held a glass up to Caroline’s ear. She choked back a laugh, then pushed gently against Tristan’s shoulder to free herself.
    “Thank you, Morgan,” she said, maintaining a calm facade. Morgan gave her a wicked grin, so like Tristan’s she felt her embarrassment begin to fade.
    “I think you shall make a wonderful addition to our family,” he said with a twinkle in his silver-gray eyes. “And I am deeply gratified knowing that left in your capable . . . um . . . hands, the succession to our family title will be secured. I fully expect to become a doting uncle sometime next year.”
    Caroline was saved from further teasing by the arrival of Lady Ogden, who declined a drink and sat primly near the fireplace in a small rosewood armchair until Perkins announced dinner. Morgan instinctively offered his arm to Lady Ogden, before realizing Alyssa would also require an escort. Belatedly he turned to offer Alyssa his other arm, but she was already leaving the room, conversing quietly with Perkins.
    There were a few awkward moments in the dining room as everyone was seated. Morgan assumed Tristan and Caroline would sit in the customary host and hostess positions at the opposite ends of the large mahogany table, leaving him free to sit where he wished. Tristan apparently had other ideas.
    Tristan seated Lady Ogden and Caroline and then settled himself comfortably between the two ladies, flashing Morgan a satisfied grin. The duke had no choice but to occupy the head of the table, and Alyssa quickly sat in the remaining chair to the duke’s left.
    Perkins and Ned served the turtle soup while Caroline maintained a lively flow of chatter. Alyssa learned over the fricandeau of veal and carrot pudding that Lady Ogden was a widow; her husband had been killed during the fighting on the peninsula early last year. He and Tristan had served together in the same regiment, which explained how Caroline and Tristan had met. Tristan had resigned his commission after being badly wounded in the same battle that claimed Lord Ogden’s life.
    Caroline skillfully directed the dinner conversation, and during the roasted beef, broiled mutton, parsnips in butter, and boiled potatoes with mint sauce, Alyssa caught a glimpse of the raffish high society of London. It was an endless social whirl of balls, soirees, parties, and afternoon teas. The gaming clubs and prizefights, the theater and the opera, the circus and Vauxhall Gardens: it was pure fascination to Alyssa.
    Alyssa studied her dinner companions during the meal, saying little. Lady Ogden maintained a very proper air, as did the duke, although he seemed to be enjoying himself. Caroline was in her glory with the majority of attention focused on her, although Alyssa saw she often glanced at Tristan. He in turn could not keep his eyes off her. He loves her, Alyssa realized with amazement. She had witnessed their passion firsthand, but it surprised her to discover their love for each other. Marriages for love were a rarity among the ton. Tristan and Caroline appeared to be among the lucky few.
    As the talk turned to gossip, it was obvious Caroline held certain people in particular fascination. The first was a gentleman named George Brummell, who she constantly referred to as “Beau.”
    “Well, I don’t care if Beau is no longer on good terms with the regent,” Caroline said flippantly. “I find Beau absolutely charming. His constant aim is toward a sober but exquisite perfection, and you cannot deny he has genuine good taste in everything. Beau’s clothes, house, furniture, library, all his possessions are much admired.”
    “As are his eccentricities, Caroline,” the duke responded to her glowing recitation of Brummell’s character. “I’ve heard tell that he sends his washing nearly twenty miles outside of London because that is the only place it can be done properly, his boots have to be cleaned in champagne, and it takes three people to make