The Summer of Wine and Scandal: A Novella Read Online Free PDF Page A

father. Caro allowed her gaze to roam about the room. Her father and brother were nodding and gesturing, obviously in deep discussion with Mr. Gage. But where was Mr. Lochley? Had he left Kent already, or had he declined to dine with her? What sort of man issued an invitation to dine and then did not attend?
    “And how do you find Hemshawe, Miss Martin?” Miss Gage asked. Caro’s head jerked up at the question.
    “Do you enjoy the country, or do you long to run away to Town?”
    “No!” Caro said far too abruptly.
    Her mother gave her a stern glance.
    “What I mean to say is, I have no interest in London or any of the cities. I prefer the country.”
    “But what about—” Miss Gage began.
    “Mister Monsieur Peregrine Lochley,” the butler with the French accent said from the doors.
    Like everyone else in the room, Caro stared at the man in the doorway. She wondered if the sight of Lochley took anyone else’s breath away. He was even more handsome than she remembered. He still had the tousled hair and the scruff of shadow upon his jaw, but he wore tailored evening clothes. In contrast to the other men’s colorful coats and waistcoats, his coat was black as onyx, and the remainder of his attire was as white as winter’s first snow.
    His gaze traveled directly to her, and he flashed her a smile. Caro almost smiled back, but she could feel her father’s gaze upon her, so she lowered her eyes to her lap instead.
    “There he is!” Gage said with a laugh. “Lochley does like to make an entrance.”
    “It’s these dam—dashed country hours.” Lochley’s velvet voice seemed to carry across the room and stroke her. “How does one inure oneself to eating in the middle of the day?”
    Gage introduced the others to Lochley and then escorted him to where the ladies sat. “Of course you know my sister and Mrs. Clotworthy. Mrs. Martin, Miss Martin, allow me to introduce Mr. Lochley, my very good friend. We were in the 13 th together. I couldn’t ask for a better man fighting at my side.”
    Caro felt her jaw open and hastily closed it again. Lochley had served in the cavalry? He’d gone to war?
    “I didn’t want to fight, but you insisted on galloping into battle, and since you always lost to me at cards, I had to ensure you survived so I could collect.”
    “Don’t believe a word he says.”
    “I don’t,” Caro said. She drew in a sharp breath when she realized she’d spoken aloud. “What I mean to say is—”
    Lochley waved a hand. “No, no, Miss Martin, you are quite right to doubt. After all, I was certainly no soldier and not even a gentleman when we met the other morning. And I do wish to beg your forgiveness.”
    “Forgiveness for what?” her father asked, his face red as he stood beside Lochley with his hands balled. “What the devil did you do to her?”

Chapter Three
    L ochley raised a brow at Martin, who looked as though he would challenge Lochley to a duel at any moment. Clearly, he’d said the wrong thing. “I didn’t do anything to Miss Martin, sir. I assure you I did not even look at her askance.”
    Martin blew out a breath and seemed to recover himself. His daughter could not have been redder if she’d jumped into a vat of grapes.
    “Pray excuse me. I misunderstood.”
    “There is nothing to excuse,” Lochley told him. “It is I who must be excused, and that is why I proposed this dinner. Your lovely daughter braved the muddy road to free my curricle. I would have fetched a footman, but Miss Martin is obviously quite independent, for she would not hear of it.”
    “That does sound like our Caro,” Mrs. Martin said with a look at her daughter.
    Caro . So that was her name. It must be short for Caroline. A lovely name for a woman, but Caro suited her better. She didn’t have the formality of a Caroline . Her eyes tilted at the corners, making her look slightly mischievous, and her nose was too small and adorable for a Caroline . Not that he’d ever thought anyone’s nose