Like No Other

Chapter 9: Gone Awry

                         

            It could have been momentous, had the lady but perceived the sign that the gentleman had the very inclination of kissing her. But Caroline, seemingly detached from the romantic sensation, only returned Stefan’s strange gaze with some bewilderment, and thought that he had never regarded her in such unfaltering and almost intimate sort of way before. An unlikely—but totally innocent—thought occurred on her mind, that such odd look bestowing upon her by Lord Stokeford was due to something about her face, and so, forthrightly and not without a little embarrassment, she asked, “ Is…is something wrong in my face?”

            The question seemed to snap Stefan out of his reverie, and the thought of kissing her abruptly dispersed as it had sprang. And the moment his good sense finally descended upon him again, he was contemplating that perhaps a bucket of ice-cold water poured over him should do to restore his disarrayed thoughts. By God, kissing Caroline—Caroline of all women!—would be a lapse from sanity. What in the deuce had made him think of something so outrageous was quite beyond reckoning.

             With unsteady voice, he replied, “I beg your pardon,” and cleared his throat and added, “There is nothing wrong in your face.”

              Caroline looked ridiculously relieved and replied cheerfully, “Oh, I’m glad to hear that! I nearly thought I looked terrible, you know.” She smiled mischievously and added with humor and considerable boldness, “Or, if I may be so presumptuous, you find, for the first time in our acquaintance, that I have a pretty face after all!”

                Stefan, not in the current state of appreciating humor and had turned a trifle surly, returned rather bluntly, “Indeed, you presume too much.” It was, of course, a big bald lie, for hadn’t he thought not so many seconds ago that Caroline was indeed pretty?

            But this rude replication did not in the least dishearten the lady, and instead made her giggle involuntarily. “You know, I think you are the most unaccomplished charmer in all London. In fact it is my belief that you aren’t even on the way to become one! But never fear,” she looked at him directly, her emerald eyes sparkling, “Sophie would never think less of you. Of that I am quite certain.”

            Such statement might have boosted his esteem, but as it happened, the effect was otherwise.  He pronounced with a certain degree of asperity that made his voice grow louder, “Unlike the many dandies who are unashamedly hovering at her elbow at every opportunity and likewise the ones you probably have taken fancy with, I can think of better occupations than to become an accomplished flirt.”

               “Well, I’m sure those occupations you’ve taken into contemplation are of tedious nature, sir!” she retorted against the sudden attack.

                Stefan eyed her ominously. “If that is what you think, then it leaves me little wonder that you find my company sorely dull.”  

                “Oh, no, not dull! Merely dismal, my lord!” No sooner had she blurted the statement out than she regretted doing so as Lord Stokefored stiffened a little and his face grew thunderous upon hearing such rebuke.

                Realizing that she had finally nicked his feelings, she said contritely, “I… I am sorry—”

            “Very well then,” he interloped, and despite his hardened countenance, his voice was as cold as icicles. “As I understand that my presence would further dampen your spirits, I should take my leave now,” he stood and added coolly, “good evening, Miss Davis.”