Kaleidoscope: A Regency Novella by Hannah Meredith

the notion that she had need of a lover, but being a friend was better than being nothing.
    When he was shown into the drawing room, she dazzled him, wearing a rose silk dress that hugged her curves lovingly and made him glad for the return of the natural waistline in woman’s gowns. She’d eschewed an elaborate hairstyle in favor of a soft arrangement that seemed held in place by a single comb. His fingers itched to pull that comb free and watch the shining darkness cascade down her back.
    He tried not to be effected by her beauty. He was not completely successful.
    “I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,” she said, coming toward him with both hands extended. Luke grasped them, surprised anew by how normal holding her hands felt. “I’m sure you had many other entertainments to choose from.”
    “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” His words rang with sincerity, since they were true. He felt layers of concern sloughed off him when he was in her presence, as if the care she’d given him while he was injured continued unabated.
    Caro—no, he must think of her as Mrs. Rydell—gave a rueful smile. “I’ve been led to believe that you’re a man-about-town, so you can hardly find a simple dinner exciting.”
    “With you it is. And I hope you do not believe everything you’ve heard about me, although some of the gossip is, unfortunately, well earned. I was unjustly accused of heinous behavior and when no one would accept my innocence, I decided to live down to others’ expectations.” That was a succinct and emotionless rendition of his situation, but he now realized he wanted Carolyn Rydell to believe his innocence without question.
    “That sounds like a long tale best told over good food,” she said. “Shall we go in to dinner?”
    She led him to a dining room where two places had been set at a smaller round table by a large window rather than at the long, stately table in the middle of the room. In the fading twilight, Luke could see that the window overlooked a surprisingly spacious garden, more natural in appearance than carefully pruned.
    “The rhododendron are in full bloom,” Mrs. Rydell said, noting the direction of his gaze. “I was delighted to discover that shrubs normally grown in the Himalayans do well here in England. I’m sorry the light is fading and you can’t fully appreciate their display. I often breakfast here and enjoy the view.”
    Luke had a vivid image of Carolyn Rydell sitting here in lonely splendor, flowers her only companions. The thought made him sad. “Do you miss India?” he asked.
    “Oh, yes. But like the rhododendron, I’m confident I can flourish in this clime.”
    He could hardly refute that statement, so the conversational topic changed to the difference between the two countries, and the meal passed in companionable discussion. Luke enjoyed watching the candlelight flash in her dark eyes. He was fascinated by the way her skin picked up the shimmering light and seemed to glow. He wanted to run his hands over her exposed shoulders and see if they were as soft and warm as they appeared. The desire to taste her lips beat through him.
    But Luke acted on none of these impulses. Carolyn Rydell had asked for his friendship, and that was what he would give her. He tried to pretend he was having a convivial meal with Tremaine instead of a woman who heated his blood. He had not imagined this pretense would be so difficult, however.
    When dessert arrived, he didn’t know whether to greet it with relief or disappointment.
    “This is the only Indian component of the meal,” she said. “I hope you like it.”
    Luke took a bite of what appeared to be a cool rice pudding. The sweet and nutty taste surprised him. “Very good. What’s it called?”
    “Kheer. It’s one of the few Indian dishes my cook can manage without changing it into something more English, and, therefore, not quite right. When I find I can no longer stand a bland diet, my manager Sanjeet, my maid