more fatigued than he realized, and he required a breath of fresh air."
Zachary eyed her. " 'Fatigued,'" he repeated dubiously.
"Oh, yes, horribly so. And perhaps fighting an aching head that would have left him bedridden for weeks, completely unable to attend any social events."
His jaw twitched. "I was nearly dead, obviously." Zachary drew a breath. "Thank goodness the Wiltshire air is so…"
"Restoring," Caroline suggested, grinning. Good. He understood how much more harmonious the evening would be if he took the blame for his absence.
"As I knew it would be," Edmund added, sending both her and Zachary a grateful look.
"You're a genius," Anne whispered, hugging Caroline around the shoulders as they returned to the house.
"Just practical." She sighed. "You'd best include Papa on your chart."
"Don't worry, Caro. I'll try to give you time in the mornings so you'll have the light."
"Thank you." She returned her attention to the man walking directly in front of her. "By the by, Lord Zachary, your dog is eating our garden."
"Is he? Damnation. I told Reed to keep an eye on him."
"Oh. I was under the impression that Harold was your dog."
He sent her a sharp look over his shoulder as she stifled an abrupt frown. She really needed to learn to quell her retorts before they reached her tongue.
"He is my dog. I'll train him away from flowers this afternoon."
"In one afternoon?" she returned, trying to sound curious and admiring rather than skeptical.
"I've trained horses," he said, sounding the slightest bit defensive. "A pup should be easier."
She had her doubts about that, but obviously she'd already said enough. After all, Zachary was doing both her and her father a favor. "Much easier, I'm certain," she agreed, carefully keeping her expression innocent as he glanced at her again.
"Precisely."
As Barling opened the front door to welcome them into the house, Sally Witfeld was descending the main staircase. Her shriek made Caroline wince; she could only imagine what Zachary must be thinking.
"Lord Zachary! Thank the dear heavens! We all thought you must have been murdered!" With a gasp, Mrs. Witfeld sank onto the bottom step in a swoon.
"Oh, good God. I'll be in my office," her husband muttered, grasping Caroline's elbow, then releasing her again as he vanished.
For a brief moment it looked as though Zachary meant to follow, but with a visible squaring of his shoulders he stepped forward and brushed the gathering sisters out of the way. "Ladies, allow me."
"But Lord Zach—"
Amid the protests and statements of admiration he hauled Sally Witfeld into his arms and carried her up the stairs. As he reached the second floor, Caroline realized she was staring—staring at the muscles playing beneath his tight buckskin trousers, at the obvious strength in his broad shoulders.
She swallowed. Obviously she needed to know a little more about the male form beneath the layers of jacket and cravat before she could do the portrait justice. This wasn't just any painting. And it wasn't about the surface, after all; it was about showing the man, and who he was. And this man was strong enough to carry her substantial mother up a flight of stairs.
Shaking herself, Caroline hurried to join the procession heading for her mother's bedchamber. No one chose to inform Lord Zachary that his actions were probably unnecessary; Sally Witfeld saw the need to faint on a fairly regular basis. But if he'd known that, they wouldn't have been treated to that impressive display.
As Caroline topped the stairs, a hand grasped her arm. "Caro," Lady Gladys said, slinging her cane over her free arm and leaning on her new assistant.
"I hope Mama hasn't alarmed you, Lady Gladys. This isn't an uncommon occurrence."
Lady Gladys chuckled. "At finishing school some of the other girls and I made your mother a pillow and awarded it to her for being the best fainter in residence."
Caroline smiled despite herself. "You didn't."
"Oh, yes we did. Do you
Zachary eyed her. " 'Fatigued,'" he repeated dubiously.
"Oh, yes, horribly so. And perhaps fighting an aching head that would have left him bedridden for weeks, completely unable to attend any social events."
His jaw twitched. "I was nearly dead, obviously." Zachary drew a breath. "Thank goodness the Wiltshire air is so…"
"Restoring," Caroline suggested, grinning. Good. He understood how much more harmonious the evening would be if he took the blame for his absence.
"As I knew it would be," Edmund added, sending both her and Zachary a grateful look.
"You're a genius," Anne whispered, hugging Caroline around the shoulders as they returned to the house.
"Just practical." She sighed. "You'd best include Papa on your chart."
"Don't worry, Caro. I'll try to give you time in the mornings so you'll have the light."
"Thank you." She returned her attention to the man walking directly in front of her. "By the by, Lord Zachary, your dog is eating our garden."
"Is he? Damnation. I told Reed to keep an eye on him."
"Oh. I was under the impression that Harold was your dog."
He sent her a sharp look over his shoulder as she stifled an abrupt frown. She really needed to learn to quell her retorts before they reached her tongue.
"He is my dog. I'll train him away from flowers this afternoon."
"In one afternoon?" she returned, trying to sound curious and admiring rather than skeptical.
"I've trained horses," he said, sounding the slightest bit defensive. "A pup should be easier."
She had her doubts about that, but obviously she'd already said enough. After all, Zachary was doing both her and her father a favor. "Much easier, I'm certain," she agreed, carefully keeping her expression innocent as he glanced at her again.
"Precisely."
As Barling opened the front door to welcome them into the house, Sally Witfeld was descending the main staircase. Her shriek made Caroline wince; she could only imagine what Zachary must be thinking.
"Lord Zachary! Thank the dear heavens! We all thought you must have been murdered!" With a gasp, Mrs. Witfeld sank onto the bottom step in a swoon.
"Oh, good God. I'll be in my office," her husband muttered, grasping Caroline's elbow, then releasing her again as he vanished.
For a brief moment it looked as though Zachary meant to follow, but with a visible squaring of his shoulders he stepped forward and brushed the gathering sisters out of the way. "Ladies, allow me."
"But Lord Zach—"
Amid the protests and statements of admiration he hauled Sally Witfeld into his arms and carried her up the stairs. As he reached the second floor, Caroline realized she was staring—staring at the muscles playing beneath his tight buckskin trousers, at the obvious strength in his broad shoulders.
She swallowed. Obviously she needed to know a little more about the male form beneath the layers of jacket and cravat before she could do the portrait justice. This wasn't just any painting. And it wasn't about the surface, after all; it was about showing the man, and who he was. And this man was strong enough to carry her substantial mother up a flight of stairs.
Shaking herself, Caroline hurried to join the procession heading for her mother's bedchamber. No one chose to inform Lord Zachary that his actions were probably unnecessary; Sally Witfeld saw the need to faint on a fairly regular basis. But if he'd known that, they wouldn't have been treated to that impressive display.
As Caroline topped the stairs, a hand grasped her arm. "Caro," Lady Gladys said, slinging her cane over her free arm and leaning on her new assistant.
"I hope Mama hasn't alarmed you, Lady Gladys. This isn't an uncommon occurrence."
Lady Gladys chuckled. "At finishing school some of the other girls and I made your mother a pillow and awarded it to her for being the best fainter in residence."
Caroline smiled despite herself. "You didn't."
"Oh, yes we did. Do you
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