by Cheryl Holt
“It’s one of my great skills.”
“Can’t you shower me with flattery so I’ll believe I’m too marvelous to resist?”
“I’m much too manly to shower you with flattery.”
“Perhaps you could spew some poetry. Can you recite any sonnets?”
“I’m fresh out of sonnets.”
She sighed, and he sighed too, and she leaned into him, their bodies pressed tight from chest to toe.
“What now?” she asked.
He linked their fingers. “Have you calmed down? Will you come back down to the party?”
“I will in a bit. I need some time by myself to consider my options.”
“Don’t dawdle by yourself, fretting and moping. Gregory isn’t worth it.”
“That’s recently become very clear to me, so there are some massive changes approaching. I’ll have to devise a means of implementing them without being buried in the rubble of the chaos I’ll cause.”
“You know what the changes have to be. You don’t have to dither and reflect. Deep in your heart, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
She peered out the window, worried over how long they’d tarried. She was so completely enchanted by him that, if the sun had set without her noticing, she wouldn’t have been surprised. It was still afternoon though, but much later than it had been.
“I should probably get out of here,” he said.
“I never thought you should have arrived in the first place.”
“Of course you didn’t, but aren’t you glad I risked it?”
“I might be glad.”
“Promise you’ll come downstairs. I’d like to introduce you to my brother.”
“I’d like that too.”
“Why don’t you rearrange the seating chart at supper? Sit next to me.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Why not?”
“I might like you more than I should too,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t be able to hide my heightened fondness.”
“No one pays any attention to you, Caro. Trust me on this. You could gaze at me until your eyes fell out of your head, and there isn’t a single person who would note what was amiss.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” she murmured.
“Don’t be sad.”
“I’m not. I’m. . . exhausted, I guess.”
“Don’t be exhausted either. Be relieved that you’re about to walk a new path.”
“I’ll tell myself that’s what is happening.”
“And be happy that you met me.”
“I don’t believe I should be happy about it. In fact, I’m predicting you’ll bring me nothing but trouble in the end.”
“You could be right.”
He gave her fingers a tight squeeze, kissed her a quick, final time, then went to the door. He unlocked it, peeked out, and slipped away. But not before glancing back, his expression so full of longing that she was bowled over by it.
“Don’t marry your cousin,” he said. “If you never follow another piece of advice, follow that one. If you marry him, you’ll always be sorry.”
Then he was gone.
She was frozen in her spot, trying to hear his footsteps retreating down the hall, but he vanished like smoke.
She sank down on her chair, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hand, listening as the silence settled around her.
“What to do? What to do?” she asked the empty room, but the room had no answer, and she was all alone.
“Won’t you ask me how my career is going?”
“No.”
Blake Ralston grinned at his brother, but Caleb didn’t grin back. The navy—and Blake’s career in it—was a sore spot between them. He shouldn’t have mentioned it, but he felt weighted down by guilt for the mess he’d caused, and he wished Caleb would forgive him.
It had happened four years earlier. Why couldn’t they move beyond it?
The navy had been Caleb’s whole life, and Blake believed, if they talked about it occasionally, it might stop being such a jagged wound. Yet maybe it wasn’t possible to repair the damage. Maybe Caleb would always suffer from the catastrophe Blake had stirred.
At least they were friends again. For a lengthy interval, they hadn’t spoken, and Blake had been terrified that Caleb meant for their rift to last forever. But as Sybil had counseled—Sybil being their substitute mother—Caleb would calm down, and he had.
He and Blake were all alone in the world. Well, if he didn’t include their half-brother, Jacob Ralston, and his two sisters. Caleb might get angry at Blake, but their firm bond would survive.
It was the tenor of his relationship with his brother. When they’d been growing up, Blake had been a constant trial. They would fight over his mischief, and Caleb would declare that he was washing his hands of Blake, but Caleb was too loyal. He’d never leave Blake behind.
They’d gradually fallen back into the rhythm that set the tone for their lives. He loved his brother, but Caleb wasn’t the cheeriest fellow. In that, they were complete opposites. Caleb was older—thirty to Blake’s twenty-five—so he worried and planned and remained alert for bumps in their road.
Blake, in contrast, was happy, lucky, and content to follow wherever Caleb led him. In his view, problems resolved themselves, and there was never a reason to fret.
“Shall we discuss your career then?” Blake asked.
“What career would that be? My ownership of a prosperous gambling house?”
“Yes, that one.”
“You should be glad I’ve been so successful. When you’re elderly and crippled, with your joints swollen from your decades at sea, I’ll be able to support you.”
“Will you hire beautiful nurses to tend me ‘round the clock?”
“No, I’ll hire aged crones.”
“You’re a cruel, heartless sibling.”
“If I am, you deserve it.”
They were chatting in the main parlor at Grey’s Corner. A festive dance was in progress, with couples promenading down the center of the room. There were plenty of female guests, so he’d been dragged onto the floor over and over. He was taking a break and catching his breath.
With Blake still in the navy, and Caleb having resigned and residing in London, they didn’t see each other very often. He hardly knew Gregory Grey, but he’d used the nuptials as an excuse to obtain a furlough. He wasn’t interested in the celebration, but Caleb needed him to guard his back, a request Blake deemed odd for a wedding.
What sort of man needed his back guarded at a wedding?
But then, Caleb and Gregory Grey were gambling, and Mr. Grey was pushing the stakes higher and higher. The negligent sot would ultimately wager away the estate, and that type of tragic apex could always generate trouble.
“Will you play with Gregory again tonight?” he asked.
Caleb sighed. “I suppose I will.”
“You don’t have to. Why don’t you chuck it in and return to London? You and I can spend some time together and revel like bachelors.”
“We are bachelors,” Caleb said. “We don’t require an excuse to act like it.”
“Mr. Grey is an obnoxious prick. I don’t understand why you’re fussing with him.”
“I keep trying to stop, but he won’t let me.”
Blake tsked with disgust. “That’s a nonsense reply. You’ve kept on because you enjoy tormenting him.”
“Maybe.”
Caleb detested lazy, slothful idiots. He liked taking their money, jewels, and properties. The fact that many of them had fathers in the navy, that those fathers were the kind of men their own father had been, was a motivating influence. He relished having the chance to inflict himself on them.
“What did you think of Caroline Grey?” Caleb asked.
Caleb
had introduced Blake to the gorgeous woman. She’d been pert and funny, and she’d had an intriguing manner of interacting with Caleb. She’d talked to him as if he didn’t impress her, which was incredibly humorous. His brother had never crossed paths with a female who didn’t immediately throw herself at his feet.
“I can’t believe she’s Gregory’s fiancée,” Blake said.
“Neither can I. I feel sorry for her.”
Blake scoffed. “No, you don’t. You don’t feel sorry for anyone.”
“I feel sorry for myself—for being related to you. I feel sorry that Sybil had to watch over us for so many years. I feel sorry for all the people in the world who aren’t as wealthy as I am now. And I feel sorry for Caroline Grey.”
“I stand corrected. You are a teeming ball of empathy.”
“I’m concerned about what will happen to her if Gregory continues marching down the road he’s on.”
Blake gaped at Caleb and shook his head. “Are you sure you’re Caleb Ralston? If you’ve told me once, you’ve told me a thousand times: You don’t care about the women who are harmed by the reckless men in their lives.”
“I’m concerned about her.” Caleb shrugged. “She might cry off from the wedding.”
“Don’t you dare tell me you encouraged her.”
“I didn’t, but she’d be smart to run from Gregory Grey.”
“If you’ve been discussing such a dangerous idea with her, it’s clear you’re getting involved with her when you shouldn’t.” Blake frowned. “What’s wrong with you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, and don’t mind me. I’m in a strange mood.”
“You certainly are.”
Caleb waved toward the dancers. “Why don’t you dance again? Leave me alone. My thoughts are bouncing around at such a furious rate that I can’t carry on a civil conversation.”
“It’s absolutely typical that I would travel all this way to socialize with you, only to be told you’d rather mope in the corner by yourself.”
“I’m good at moping, so please go charm the ladies. If you keep them busy, perhaps they’ll ignore me.”
“Dear brother, just for you, I will give it my all.”
Blake sauntered off, thinking that no amount of distraction would prevent the females in the crowd from seeking Caleb’s attention. Or his own.
He and his brother were amazingly handsome, as well as suave and sophisticated. Caleb was rich too, so that made Blake rich. It would be pointless to pretend they didn’t cut dashing figures, and Blake was wearing his uniform. There wasn’t a woman in the kingdom who could resist him.
He was still overheated, so he slipped out to the verandah and strolled down into the garden. He walked until he was quite a distance from the house, then he turned to study it. The windows were lit, the doors open so it might have been a fairy palace.
He loved fancy houses, and there had been plenty of occasions as a boy where he’d had to tarry outside and wonder what it would be like to be welcomed inside. Now, with his career providing esteem, and his brother being powerful and important, Blake could bluster into any bloody mansion he chose, and people would be glad to see him.
Behind him, a woman sneezed, and she tried to be furtive so he wouldn’t hear her. He glanced over his shoulder to where there was a bench off in the grass. She was sitting on it, and with her attired in a black gown, the night swallowed her up.
He went over to discover who it was, being surprised to find Janet Grey. He’d met her on the stairs when he’d first arrived, but he hadn’t stumbled on her since.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Grey,” he said. “Why are you hiding out here all by yourself?”
“If I’d wanted to be found, Ensign Ralston, I would have made my presence known.”
“You did make it known. You sneezed.”
Without invitation, he plopped down next to her, and she glowered like a fussy schoolteacher.
“I didn’t ask you to join me,” she said.
“No, but you look like you could use some company.”
It wasn’t completely dark. There was a lantern hanging from a post a few feet away, and the moon was up, so he could clearly assess her. She was younger than he was, probably twenty or so. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she was very pretty, but she concealed her feminine attributes, almost as if she couldn’t bear to have them noticed.
When he’d bumped into her earlier, she’d been dressed like a governess, and she still was. Her hair was pulled back in a tight, unflattering chignon, and while the other women at the party were decked out in their most stylish clothes, her dreary garment had a high neck, long sleeves, and grey trim on the collar and cuffs.
“Your face is so scrunched up,” he said, “you could be a prune. Why are you scowling? And you shouldn’t be scowling at me. I couldn’t have vexed you. Not yet anyway. You should be happy to see me, for I can guarantee—whatever is ailing you—I shall cure it before I’m through.
“I doubt that very much.”
She shifted, so he shifted too, but the bench was narrow, so there wasn’t much space to maneuver. Their arms and legs were crushed together all the way down.
“I hate parties,” she said.
“Who hates a party? That’s a ridiculous comment.”
“I especially hate this one.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like my brother, and I can’t abide his London friends.”
He pondered his reply, debating whether he should be polite or if he should be candid. Candor won out. “I can’t abide any of them either. I’m here because my brother dragged me along. I’m often away in the navy, so I don’t spend as much time with him as I’d like.”
“You get on with him?”
“We’re best chums.”
“You’re lucky then. Gregory is my only sibling, and I don’t have the luxury of a close bond. I like my cousin, Caroline, though. She’s always been like a sister to me.”
“I like her too,” Blake said, “and I’m sad that she’s marrying Gregory. She seems very sweet. It’s too bad she couldn’t wind up with a husband who deserves her.”
“My father arranged the match ages ago. She’s twiddled her thumbs for seven years, but Gregory wouldn’t proceed. Have you ever heard of anything so rude?”
“Seven years? Your brother must have been convinced of her affection. How could he be sure no other fellow would swoop in and steal her away when he wasn’t paying attention?”
“He’s fortunate no one ever did, but we don’t have many handsome bachelors stopping by. She’s never been doted on by a beau, so she waited for Gregory.”
Fleetingly, Blake wondered if Caleb might have decided to dote on her. His brother was surrounded by women. With his being notorious, every doxy in the demimonde tried to curry his favor, but he was persnickety and rarely interested.
Their father, and his licentious habits, had made Caleb wary of romantic entanglements. A man could orchestrate enormous folly if he wasn’t careful where he sired his children.
Miss Grey yanked his focus back to her. “I wish I could stuff Caroline in a traveling trunk and take her to London. I’d like to save her from her dire fate. I have some money of my own. I ought to beg her to run away with me. We could rent an apartment and live alone—a pair of contented spinsters.”
“You’d run away to save her from matrimony? What a bizarre statement. Isn’t marriage the goal all women seek?”
“Not every woman. Some of us realize the trap a man can present.”
“Men and marriage are a trap?” He cocked his head and studied her. “You have to be the strangest female I’ve ever encountered.”
“There are more women like me than you can imagine,” she snottily said. “And just so you know, I’m not impressed by you, so don’t flirt with me.”
“Oh, I definit
ely won’t flirt.”
The remark was a lie. He was fascinating and enchanting, and women couldn’t resist him. His impulses couldn’t be tamped down or controlled.
“Charm practically oozes out of you,” she scathingly said.
“I can’t hold it in. I’ve never been able to. Should I apologize for being marvelous?”
“No! I don’t care if you’re marvelous.”
“Well, you certainly told me, didn’t you?”
“For a few minutes this afternoon, I allowed myself to be swept away by the notion of engaging in a dalliance with you, but I came to my senses quickly enough.”
“What was it, pray tell, that jerked you to reality?”
“After we chatted on the stairs, I actually went to my room and changed my clothes so I’d look more fetching for you. I had my hair curled and my slippers brushed, then I rushed down to find you. I was hoping to. . . to. . . entice you, but you were nowhere to be found, which was a great relief. I didn’t make a fool of myself.”
She’d spewed so many odd comments that he felt dizzy with trying to sift through them all. He settled on the one least likely to provoke her. “I would love to have seen you in a pretty gown.”
“But don’t you understand? I don’t want to look fetching!”
She was so aggrieved that he laughed out loud; he couldn’t help it. “I repeat: You are incredibly strange. What’s wrong with being fetching? To me, it seems a normal feminine instinct. Are you determined to be completely abnormal?”
“There are more important things than flirtation and romance.”
“I’ve never stumbled on any.”
“I have no desire to tempt men with my looks. I intend to be respected for my intellect and my stimulating personality. I’m smart and driven to succeed. I should be able to accomplish any goal I pursue. I shouldn’t have to demean myself into believing matrimony is my only option.”
“Yes, but the sole avenue society permits is for you to be a wife and mother. What alternative is there?”
“I most particularly don’t want to be a wife and mother!” She glared at him as if the unfairness of her lot was all his fault.
“What will become of you then?”