Four In Hand by Stephanie Laurens

Caroline blush. She did not see him again until it was time for them to quit the Assembly Rooms. In order to survive the evening, she had sternly refused to let her mind dwell on his behaviour. Consequently, it had not occurred to her to arrange to exchange her place in her guardian’s carriage for one in the Twyford coach. When Lizzie came to tug at her sleeve with the information that the others had already left, she perceived her error. But the extent of her guardian’s foresight did not become apparent until they were halfway home.
    She and Max shared the forward facing seat with Lizzie curled up in a corner opposite them. On departing King Street, they preserved a comfortable silence—due to tiredness in Lizzie’s case, from being too absorbed with her thoughts in her case and, as she suddenly realised, from sheer experience in the case of her guardian.
    They were still some distance from Mount Street when, without warning, Max took her hand in his. Surprised, she turned to look up at him, conscious of his fingers moving gently over hers. Despite the darkness of the carriage, his eyes caught hers. Deliberately, he raised her hand and kissed her fingertips. A delicious tingle raced along Caroline’s nerves, followed by a second of increased vigour as he turned her hand over and placed a lingering kiss on her wrist. But they were nothing compared to the galvanising shock that hit her when, without giving any intimation of his intent, he bent his head and his lips found hers.
    From Max’s point of view, he was behaving with admirable restraint. He knew Lizzie was sound asleep and that his manipulative and normally composed eldest ward was well out of her depth. Yet he reined in his desires and kept the kiss light, his lips moving gently over hers, gradually increasing the pressure until she parted her lips. He savoured the warm sweetness of her mouth, then, inwardly smiling at the response she had been unable to hide, he withdrew and watched as her eyes slowly refocused.
    Caroline, eyes round, looked at him in consternation. Then her shocked gaze flew to Lizzie, still curled in her corner.
    “Don’t worry. She’s sound asleep.” His voice was deep and husky in the dark carriage.
    Caroline, stunned, felt oddly reassured by the sound. Then she felt the carriage slow.
    “And you’re safe home,” came the gently mocking voice.
    In a daze, Caroline helped him wake Lizzie and then Max very correctly escorted them indoors, a smile of wicked contentment on his face.
    ———
    Arabella stifled a wistful sigh and smiled brightly at the earnest young man who was guiding her around the floor in yet another interminable waltz. It had taken only a few days of the Season proper for her to sort through her prospective suitors. And come to the unhappy conclusion that none matched her requirements. The lads were too young, the men too old. There seemed to be no one in between. Presumably many were away with Wellington’s forces, but surely there were those who could not leave the important business of keeping England running? And surely not ail of them were old? She could not describe her ideal man, yet was sure she would instantly know when she met him. She was convinced she would feel it, like a thunderbolt from the blue. Yet no male of her acquaintance increased her heartbeat one iota.
    Keeping up a steady and inconsequential conversation with her partner, something she could do half asleep, Arabella sighted her eldest sister, elegantly waltzing with their guardian. Now there was a coil. There was little doubt in Arabella’s mind of the cause of Caroline’s bright eyes and slightly flushed countenance. She looked radiant. But could a guardian marry his ward? Or, more to the point, was their guardian intent on marriage or had he some other arrangement in mind? Still, she had complete faith in Caroline. There had been many who had worshipped at her feet with something other than matrimony in view, yet her eldest sister had