Caroline wasn’t in the mood for games or being analyzed, and she certainly didn’t want him to think poorly of her. She thought of the words she wanted to say before she spoke them slowly. “Why are you here?”
His eyes twinkled with amusement as he observed her. “In Hyde Park or in London?”
Too many questions!Her confusion or panic must have shown on her face, for he made soothing sounds and held up a gloved hand. Caroline frowned. Where the devil had she left her gloves?
“Settle, Miss Storme. I like to walk in the park. Somehow, it makes me miss the sea less, and as long as I can see the water of the Serpentine, my homesickness isn’t as acute.”
Ah, a connection she understood. “Cousin Brand is on the sea.”
Mr. Butler nodded. “He was, but now he’s in London too, for a bit. He and I sailed in together.”
“Why?”
“Brand wished to see his family and meet with prospective clients. I am here to see my father.” He blew out a breath. “My father is a baron. He’s in Town for the Season and Parliament’s start.” Emotions she couldn’t read lined his face. “I’m on my way to see him, but wished for the calm of Hyde Park before I called.”
“Oh.” His tone was so deep and delicious; she could listen to him for hours. Caroline let her imagination run away with her. So easily she could imagine him as a knight of old, riding off into battle for a chance to win the hand of his lady fair, just like in the stories Isobel used to read to her, the stories she had memorized and could pretend to read for herself. “I am glad.”
“Why?” He followed the inquiry with a wide grin that revealed straight even white teeth except for the left upper incisor, which was slightly crooked. Like his nose. Had it been broken at one time? Did he know how to fight? Those flaws made him that much more approachable, but he was still more perfect than her.
With heat in her cheeks, she shrugged. “I am here too. In London.”
“Again, it’s providence, I say.” He sat back against his bench while resting an ankle on a knee—the picture of relaxed, English elegance. Her fingers itched to sketch him. As his golden-brown gaze held hers, he asked, “How is life with your cousin the earl?”
“Cousin Drew?” For a moment, she froze. No one was ever interested in any aspect of her life. They only assumed she was doing well within the family fold. A shaft of anger speared through her chest. People never really saw her. Except Mr. Butler, but then, perhaps he was only being polite. What was there to say, after all? The truth, of course. “The babe is noisy. Cousin Drew is so too.” Drat. More of a jumble. Another round of heat filled her cheeks.
“That’s what I’ve heard. Is he still riddled with anger and anxiety over his title?”
“He is better sometimes. Helps him, Sarah.” A wave of confusion smacked her in the chest. “My mother. Dead.” The more emotional she was, the less her syntax made sense, and the more her sentences broke down. And why did she share that with him?
Compassion lined his expression. “You have my condolences, Miss Storme. I was desolate for a time when I lost mine. You must be devastated.”
How… odd. Why must she? Her relationship with all of her family members was complicated. Since she’d been separated from them for so long, the bond she should have had with them simply wasn’t strong.
“No?” Caroline shrugged. “I don’t know?” For she truly didn’t. Everything that had to do with the Stormes was a murky maelstrom she couldn’t make sense of but felt caught up in that vortex. Most of the time, she was angry, so very angry because they’d sent her away when she’d needed them the most. And now that she was back in London, kept like a prisoner in a gilded cage, away from anything that might prove an embarrassment, she still needed their permission to do almost anything. “I want freedom… John.” Yes, that was his given name, and he’d asked her to call him that so long ago at Christmastide.
His expression brightened. “I’d hope you would have remembered… Caroline.”
Oh, the way he said her name! The way it made her feel as if she were special and valued. It took the fury out of the storm brewing inside her spirit, if only for a time. She clutched at the strings of her reticule, for she yearned to draw exactly what she was feeling, how the emotions swirled around her like a cyclone, unable to be contained.
“It’s all right, you know.” He leaned forward, planted both boots on the floorboard, and then briefly touched her knee. A jolt of heated energy zipped up her leg to glance through her lower belly. “There is no correct way to feel about anything. The path through life is different for everyone; no two people walk it the same way.”
For the first time in her existence, she was given affirmation to manage things in her own way. It was overwhelming and a rush. So much so that she wanted to experience more of that. “Thank you.” She wiped the raindrops from the cover of her sketchbook. As the carriage rocked to a halt in front of Hadleigh House, she sighed. “Cousin Drew mad will be.”
John snorted. “Isn’t he always?” He shot her a mischievous glance. “I have time to linger if you’d like me to stay and explain your wet state and my escort.”
How was it possible this man was completely different than her family? “Yes.” She shook her head, but lingering meant he wouldn’t stay permanently, and that brought panic rushing back into her throat. Once he left, she would return to that gilded cage with clipped wings.
He winked. “Never fear. I’ll do my best to head off the storm that is your cousin.”
But what about the storm brewing within her, the one she feared would soon consume her and carry her off into real madness?