by Cheryl Holt
“There’s nothing innocent about him, and if you imagine there is, you are greatly deluded.” Her uncle snickered in a nasty way. “Will that be all? Have we covered your list of grievances?”
“I haven’t raised the worst one.”
“What is it? What could possibly be worse than his being a drunkard and gambler?”
She braced herself, recognizing—once she uttered the words aloud—she would be walking down a new path. “He has a mistress to whom he is incredibly devoted.”
He froze, then frowned. “He does not.”
“It’s Mrs. Starling. Lucretia Starling? She’s a guest. Apparently, he’s so attached to her that he couldn’t leave her home for a week. He brought her to his wedding, and at every activity I have arranged as hostess, she has stood by his side while I ran about managing the servants as if I were a servant too.”
“Why would you believe such a shocking tale?”
“I saw them kissing, right out on the verandah in broad daylight. I saw them with my own two eyes.”
“Are you certain you’re not mistaken about what you observed? I mean, the sun may have been—”
She slapped a palm on the desktop to cut him off. “They are a dedicated couple! I asked Mr. Ralston about them, and he apprises me that they’ve been together for years. They live together openly in town!”
“They cohabitate?” He smirked dismissively. “That can’t be true. It would be a grave sin, as well as a public insult to you and me.”
“Mr. Ralston offered to speak directly to you about them, but I insisted I could do it myself.”
“You’re being very clear, very blunt, but it’s difficult for me to accept these wild allegations.”
“She is his wife in all but name, which definitely has me curious as to why he’s marrying me instead of her. If she’s pretending to be his wife, what am I supposed to be?”
A lethal silence descended as they stared, their minds whirring. Samson rose and went to the sideboard to fill his glass with more brandy, then he returned and sat down. He sipped it slowly, studying her over the rim.
Eventually, he said, “I have to explain a delicate issue for you, and after you hear what it is, you must promise you won’t fly off the handle.”
“I can’t promise you that. My reaction will depend on what you are about to tell me.”
“You won’t like it, but I’m going to share it with you anyway.”
“Fine. What is it?”
“Men have affairs, Caroline. They have mistresses and sire bastards. They revel in disgusting amusements that offend the conscience of decent people like you and me.”
“Is that your answer? Men have affairs?”
“Gregory has resided in town for twelve years. He has friends and hobbies you and I would never countenance. But you have to remember this: Whatever his relationship with Mrs. Starling—and I’m not admitting there is one—their liaison has nothing to do with you. If they’re involved, she is a trollop who’s degraded herself by entering into an illicit amour that any Christian person would condemn.”
“And. . . ?” she asked.
“It has nothing to do with you. He’s not engaged to her. He’s not marrying her. He’s marrying you. You will be his bride and bear him his lawful children. You will have the respect and esteem that comes from being Mrs. Gregory Grey. Mrs. Starling will never receive any boons from Gregory that matter in the slightest.”
Caroline gaped at him, wondering if she’d stumbled into a strange world where up was down and bad was good. “Gregory has committed a hideous indiscretion and moral lapse. Are you claiming I should ignore it? Is that it?”
“Yes. It’s how wives deal with this type of situation, Caroline. They look the other way. They ignore the hurtful wounds that husbands regularly inflict.”
“So. . . I should let him philander with a strumpet and convince myself it’s not happening? What is wrong with you?”
“I’m clarifying how a clever girl thrives in trying circumstances. You’re not the first woman in history who’s faced this dilemma. The trick is to move beyond it, to not allow it to impede your happiness.”
“That just might be the most ridiculous comment you’ve ever uttered in my presence.”
“What option is there for you, Caroline? Your wedding is in four days, and our home is full of guests who’ve traveled here to watch you tie the knot. Honestly, you’re carrying on as if we should call it off!”
“Yes, it’s what I’ve decided. I’m calling off the wedding. You encouraged me to betroth myself when I was much too young to understand the ramifications. I consented to have Gregory as my husband when I shouldn’t have, and now, when I’m almost at the end of this road, I find out he’s not the man I assumed him to be.”
“He’s exactly who he’s always been. You simply weren’t paying attention.”
“He’s in love with someone else!”
She actually shouted the accusation, and they were both stunned by her volume.
In every instance, she was unfailingly polite and mild-mannered, especially to him. From the moment Samson had become head of the family, she’d been grateful to him, but gratitude could only take them so far.
He glared at her as if he’d never previously witnessed such a peculiar creature, then a hardness came into his expression.
“He is not in love with Mrs. Starling. She is a passing fancy, a bit of. . . of. . . fluff to keep him entertained. If he is pursuing this affair you’ve described, I’ve explained your position with regard to it.”
“I will not be shamed like this,” she seethed. “I want her out of this house! Immediately!”
“I’ll see if Gregory can arrange for her to pack her bags and return to the city.”
She threw up her hands. “And then what? She leaves for London, then Gregory and I will blithely march down the aisle—as if she doesn’t exist?”
“Yes, I expect that you and Gregory will walk down the aisle. You will have a poignant ceremony, followed by a delicious breakfast, then two days of celebration afterward. The whole family will rejoice.”
Her fury boiled over. It was the tenor of their relationship that he placated her. He humored her. He would pretend to listen, then ignore her. He was a man, so he thought he was smarter and more important than she was.
To him, she was merely the orphaned daughter of an unruly, unlikable brother. None of her kin had ever had a kind remark to offer about her father, and she was heartily sick of it.
Suddenly, a wave of umbrage bubbled up, and it was so powerful that it scared her. If she opened her mouth, she might flood the world with her rage. She’d swallowed down twenty years of snubs, slights, and affronts to her dignity, and she was finished being so meek and compliant.
How dare he discount the situation! How dare he belittle her objections! How dare he think he could coerce her into the union.
She wouldn’t be pressured! It wasn’t the Middle Ages, and he couldn’t force her. No one could.
In their prior interactions, he’d been able to mollify her with lies and half-truths. He’d coddle and calm her, would talk and talk and talk until he’d begin to sound reasonable, and she’d wind up capitulating to his point of view.
Not this time. Not ever again.
“I won’t do it, Uncle Samson,” she quietly stated. “I won’t marry Gregory.”
“Yes, you will. If I have to drag you to the church bound and gagged, that is what will transpire.”
“No. We’re changing course—today—so I suggest you get used to the idea.” She stood and stared him down like a judge decreeing a sentence. “Will you tell Gregory or shall I?”
“We are not telling Gregory this ludicrous news. We are not calling off the wedding.”
“I’ll be delighted to inform him myself, but you will have to confer with Mrs. Starling for me. I don
’t believe I should have to converse with that doxy ever again. I demand that she vacate the premises first thing in the morning.”
She whipped away and stormed out.
“Caroline!” he bellowed. “Stop right there!”
She kept on without pausing or glancing back.
Caleb was in his dressing room, debating over what clothes to wear down to supper, when the door in the outer sitting room opened and closed. He was attired in only his trousers. He’d just washed, so his hair was damp, and he had a towel draped over his shoulders.
He was a tad anxious over who’d blundered in. It wasn’t a servant; a servant would have knocked. It wasn’t his brother; Blake would have hollered to announce himself.
Whoever had entered, the person was standing very still, and the stealth had him suspecting it was a female who shouldn’t have snuck in. Gad, but he hoped it wasn’t another guest. He couldn’t bear to endure the awkwardness of rejecting a romantic overture.
He tiptoed out and, somewhat nervously, peeked into the sitting room.
“Caro. . . ?” he said when he saw who’d arrived.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Thank goodness.”
With no more words voiced, she flew over to him and practically jumped into his arms. He was thrilled to catch her. In an instant, he was kissing her like a deranged lunatic, twirling them in circles as, gradually, they staggered over to the bed and tumbled onto the mattress.
The embrace heated rapidly, growing so wild they couldn’t continue. As their lips parted, they were giggling like naughty children who’d misbehaved and had gotten away with it.
“I must point out, Miss Grey,” he teasingly said, “that you are in my bedchamber and lying on my bed. What’s come over you?”
“I had to talk to you; it couldn’t wait. If you hadn’t been here, I might have torn the manor down brick by brick until I located you.”
He slid onto his side, and she slid too so they were nose to nose. He rested a hand on her waist and asked, “What happened?”
“I discussed Gregory with my uncle.”
“How did it go? In light of your agitated condition, I’m predicting it was difficult.”
“It was, and it wasn’t. He made excuses and tried to sweep Gregory’s conduct under the rug. He actually explained that it’s very common for men to have affairs. That was his exact comment! Men have affairs, and if Gregory was having one, I should learn to live with it.”
Caleb’s jaw dropped in shock. “You’re joking.”
“No, and he also warned me that you are a very shady character, and if it was you who had claimed Gregory was out of control, I shouldn’t believe you.”
“I am a shady character; he’s right about that. And men have affairs; he’s right about that too. If you ever spent time in London, you’d be stunned by the antics you’d witness.”
“Well, there may be mischief occurring in town, and Gregory may be one of the worst offenders, but I don’t have to put up with it. Uncle Samson told me I should ignore Gregory’s flaws, so guess what I told him?”
“Considering the wicked gleam in your eye, I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“I told him I’m not marrying Gregory. I insisted the wedding is off, and I won’t pretend about it. I informed him too that Mrs. Starling must depart the premises and that he could have the dubious honor of apprising her that she’d been kicked out at my specific command.”
“I don’t suppose that decision will be greeted with much enthusiasm by Mrs. Starling.”
“I don’t care. I shouldn’t have to consort with a tart like her, and now that I’ve discovered her base nature, I won’t tolerate her presence in my home.”
He grinned with amusement, but with amazement too. He was surprised by her fit of pique, but by her willingness to give it free rein too. Women weren’t permitted to quarrel and hurl ultimatums at men. He was astounded that she’d have the fortitude to stand up for herself.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You resemble a warrior goddess in an ancient fable. If you don’t watch out, you might start smiting people with your blazing sword.”
“A warrior goddess, hm? I like the sound of that. I haven’t felt this good in. . . ever? If you had any idea of how often I’ve had to bite my tongue in this blasted house!” She smirked, appearing impish and full of mischief. “He was so bewildered by my attitude. I hope he didn’t suffer an apoplexy.”
“Maybe he did.”
“When I left the room, he was shouting. He’s probably worried that a fairy changeling has swooped in and taken over my body.”
Caleb laughed, enjoying her spurt of temper. She was so pretty, and with her cheeks flushed with rage, she was even more fetching. She reminded him of Sybil and how she’d fought on his behalf when he was a boy. For years, she’d gone toe to toe with his Ralston kin, with officials in the navy, with headmasters at his boarding school. She’d refused to let him be mistreated simply because his father had been a bigamist and liar.
Usually, he presumed he didn’t like feisty women, but on occasion, he was thrilled to observe such brazenness. Especially when the men in question deserved to be put in their places.
As if to emphasize her new confidence, she initiated a kiss of her own. It was hot and sultry and even a tad dangerous. It had him wishing again that he could unbutton buttons and untie laces, but he wasn’t ready to walk down that road, so he was relieved when she pulled away.
“I just realized you’re not dressed,” she said.
“I was bathing when you came in.”
“I’ve caught you in a complete state of dishabille, and I’m not even sorry.”
“You’re turning into a wench.”
“Since I met you, I’ve become shameless. Is that possible? Or do you imagine I had shameless proclivities buried deep down and you’ve lured them to the fore?”
“I’m sure you were shameless deep down, but I never thought a smidgen of immorality was a bad trait in a female.”
“You’re a man, so you would say that.”
She slipped off the bed and stood. He sat up, his hips balanced on the edge of the mattress, his feet on the floor. He relished the sight of her as she adjusted the combs in her chignon and fussed with her clothes so she’d be more presentable.
“I have to get downstairs,” she said, “to check on the supper preparations. The servants will be frantically searching for me.”
“Let them search. Let’s stay in here all night and act precisely as we shouldn’t.”
“To my great delight—and horror—that notion excites me.” She leaned in and took another quick, desperate kiss. “Have you noticed there’s something different about me all of a sudden? You don’t seem to have.”
“You’re quite a bit wilder than I ever pictured you being, but that’s probably not what you mean.”
“No. I mean that I’m not engaged anymore, so I can flirt without feeling guilty.”
“I’m tickled to hear it.”
“I’m also free to encourage the attentions of other gentlemen—if I find myself in the mood.” She scrutinized him saucily, then raised a brow. “Aren’t you a bachelor, Mr. Ralston? I’m being greedy for once, and I think you should be the first fellow in line.”
She whipped away and sauntered out, and he listened to her sneaking away. Then he sighed with pleasure.
From the minute they’d crossed paths, he’d liked her more than he should, and he’d delayed his return to London so he could continue to socialize with her. It was foolish conduct, but he’d tarried anyway.
She assumed she’d severed her betrothal, but he doubted she had. Her uncle wouldn’t merrily accept her decision. Nor would Gregory. They were determined to force the match, even though Caleb couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t as if Caroline was an heiress with a fortune.
The Grey family was rich and landed, and Samson Grey didn’t have to shackle his only son to a poverty-stricken cousin. Why would he? It made no sense, but then, in Caleb’s view, families never made sense. Just look at his own father and the mess he’d created by having two wives.
Samson Grey had arranged the union when Caroline was a girl, but she’d grown up and now had a mind of her own. It left her at odds with her relatives, so the next hours and days would be filled with drama and intrigue—and even some intense sparring.
Caro was already moving on, and she wanted a new man in her life. She hadn’t paused to wonder if he wanted to be that man. Did he?
He could see himself trifling with her, sharing torrid kisses when no one was watching. But. . .
He couldn’t fathom why he’d become more involved with her than that. If that was his opinion, what was he planning?
He had no idea, so he’d lurk in the shadows, and if he could help her deal with her male kin, he would. Other than that dubious assistance, he couldn’t predict what he might or might not do with regard to her.
In the meantime, he had to get down to supper. He rose and went to the dressing room to pick out a shirt.
Janet rounded a corner on the way to the stairs and physically bumped into Blake Ralston. She staggered, nearly fell, and he grabbed her arm to help her regain her balance.
“Why are you lurking in this hall?” she demanded.
“I was looking for you.”
“Why? Are you stalking me? Are you spying on me?”
“Yes, to both. You’ve been avoiding me, so I accuse you of cheating.”
“Your comment indicates you deem us to be involved in some sort of game.”
“It’s not a game. It’s a bet. I’m trying to prove you’re not as averse to romance as you pretend to be. If you constantly hide and surround yourself with people so I can’t get close to you, how are we to stumble on the answer?”
“I haven’t been hiding. That would mean I was afraid I’d be susceptible to your dubious charms.”
He scoffed. “You are so full of yourself.”