Silas who had avoided her since that ride in Hyde Park. Helena said he was busy with his botanical work, but Caroline had seen him out in society every night. He hadn’t lacked for dance partners—even if none had been his dear friend, Lady Beaumont.
On the rare occasions they’d spoken, he greeted her with a chill politeness that hurt, however much she pretended it didn’t. She supposed he was sulking because she refused to heed his misgivings about her plans. She’d tried to tease him out of his mood. After all, they’d always made each other laugh. But any attempts to re-establish their closeness foundered against that wall of politeness, cold and impassable as the Atlantic.
As if the thought conjured him up, she glimpsed him across the crowded room. He was dancing with Fenella who looked lovely in a rose pink gown. Considering how reluctantly Fen had abandoned her widow’s weeds, she’d taken to the season with an élan that astonished Caroline.
Now there she was, sparkling and pretty and happy, in Silas’s arms. He smiled down at her with the warmth he’d once reserved for Caroline.
They looked so right together. Somehow complete unto one another.
Like people in love.
A great ax of understanding slammed down from nowhere and smashed everything Caroline thought she knew into chaos. The couples whirling around her became a dizzying wall of color. On a muffled cry, she stumbled as West swept her into a turn.
“Lady Beaumont—Caroline—you’re not well.” West’s hand firmed around her waist. “Come. Sit down.”
“I’m…I’m fine.” Her voice came from far away as she clung to West’s powerful arm.
“You’re definitely not fine,” he said, and somewhere in the distant reaches of her mind, she registered his kindness. “Can you walk or should I carry you?”
“No, no, I can walk,” she forced out. Talking was painful. Her heart shrank to the size of a walnut and the breath jammed in her closed throat.
Hardly aware of moving, she let him lead her across to where Helena stood surrounded by a circle of admirers. Vaguely Caroline knew that heads turned to track her unsteady progress.
“Helena, Lady Beaumont is feeling faint,” West said, his arm still around her waist.
She was grateful for his support. Her legs threatened to fold beneath her. She told herself to stand up straight, but every muscle felt made of string.
“Caro, are you ill?” Helena asked, taking her arm. “Here. Sit down. It’s cursed hot in here. No wonder you’re lightheaded.”
“I’ll fetch some water,” West said.
“Thank you,” Helena said, easing Caroline down into a chair. She waved the curious onlookers away. “Stand clear and give her some space.”
As her blood thundered deafeningly in her ears, Caroline sucked in a deep breath of humid air, then another. It didn’t help. The musicians scratching away at the far end of the room set her teeth on edge.
Horrified at her behavior, she summoned the stern voice in her head that always sounded like her father at his frostiest. That austere voice told her she made a spectacle of herself. Over nothing. Less than nothing.
Silas. And Fenella.
West returned, looking gratifyingly perturbed, but she was in no state to enjoy his attention. With a shaky hand, she accepted the glass he carried. How desperately she wished she was at home, away from all these prying eyes.
She choked down a sip of water, then forced numb lips to move. Her apology emerged slurred and muffled. “I’m sorry for all this fuss. I’m fine. Really.”
“You’re as pale as a ghost,” Helena said, fanning her.
“What the devil’s going on?” Silas pushed his way through the small crowd. “Has something happened to Caro?”
“Lady Beaumont felt faint,” West said.
“Caro, are you all right?” Fenella rushed up behind Silas. She sounded sincerely worried. Of course she did. Fen was an angel, one of the kindest people in the world.
Silas. And Fenella.
“I just need a moment,” Caroline whispered. She forced down another sip, her mind seething as she struggled to make sense of what she’d seen and, more, why it stabbed at her like a knife. How could she have been so blind? Now that she saw, why, in the name of all that was holy, was she so upset? She’d long ago recognized that she lacked Fen’s generous spirit, but she thought she was better than this. Or was she at heart one of those ghastly women who hated to see a friend find new allegiances, new love? She couldn’t bear to admit she was such a spiteful cat.
Yet still those three words jammed like logs in her chest. Silas. And Fenella.
“Caro, tell me what’s wrong,” Silas said, seizing her hand. “Do you need a doctor?”