by Cheryl Holt
“Your father kicked my brother out.”
Her jaw dropped with astonishment. “Will you obey him and slither away?”
“It’s pointless for us to stay. Caleb is here to attend the wedding, but the wedding is off.”
“But. . . but. . . why do you have to go? No one’s kicked you out, have they?”
“Not yet.” He grinned a wicked grin.
“Why don’t you tarry then?”
“I better not. Your father would eventually notice me lurking and demand I go too. Besides, I’m on furlough from the navy, and I’d like to spend the rest of my holiday with my brother.”
“Will you ever come to Grey’s Corner again?”
“I can’t imagine why I would.”
Her heart literally skipped a beat. “Are you sure? I could have sworn you were enjoying yourself.”
“I always like to dawdle in a fancy house, but I detest your brother. I’m not in the mood to ever bump into him in the future.”
“What about me? Would you ever be keen to bump into me?”
“I’ll always hope we cross paths.”
Her mind whirred frantically as she struggled to deduce how she could keep him in her life for awhile longer. A few minutes earlier, she’d been thinking it would be delightful to wed him, but he had stopped by to tell her he was leaving.
It was a brutal indication that men and women were such different creatures. With their thought processes so divergent, how could she have assumed they could genuinely bond?
She understood all of that, but she was desperately anxious to remain connected to him anyway. He was the only thrilling thing that had ever happened to her. If he departed, she’d be too bereft to carry on.
“I hate to suppose we’ll part forever,” she said. “I was expecting we’d be. . . ah. . . friends.”
“I guess it’s not in the cards.”
He was so blasé about it, as if meeting her hadn’t meant very much to him, so she had to be nonchalant too. “Could we correspond? Would you like that?”
“I’m not much of a letter writer. You’d work your fingers to the bone, penning lengthy diatribes to me, but I’d never reply.”
Her mind clipped on at an even faster pace. There had to be a way for them to be together. “What if I came to London?”
“For a visit?”
“Well, no. I’d like to live there. Gregory was allowed to move to town when he was eighteen. It’s not fair that he was given the chance, but I wasn’t.”
“I can’t picture your father letting you.”
“I wouldn’t exactly request his permission.”
“You’d run away?”
“Yes.”
“You scamp, you. When would you go?”
She tossed the dice to discover where they would land. “How about now? What if I went with you tomorrow?”
He blanched. “My brother would never agree to that. He can be a stickler for the proprieties.”
“Your brother owns a gambling club. How much of a stickler could he be about anything?”
“He had to start it because of me. I got him drummed out of the navy.”
“What did you do?”
“I was swept up in a scandal, and he took the blame. Otherwise, I’d have been court marshalled. He saved me, but the end result was that I kept my career and he lost his.”
“Has he forgiven you?”
“Of course. I’m his only kin, so he couldn’t stay angry. What would be the point?”
“If you’d harmed me like that, I doubt I’d have been so magnanimous. I’d have punished you for years so I could be certain you’d learned your lesson.”
“I’m very hard-headed. If he has to teach me a lesson, he pummels me. That sort of firm message is necessary to get my attention.”
“Your admission doesn’t make you sound like much of a catch for a young lady such as myself.”
“I’m a great catch,” he said, “if the young lady in question is looking for fun and excitement.” He scrutinized her meticulously. “But if she’s looking for commitment and marriage, I’m not the fellow for the job.”
“Well, I am looking for fun and excitement, and I’m not looking for marriage or commitment, so I might be the precise female you’re seeking.”
“You constantly claim you loathe matrimony, but I’ve never met a woman who believed that insane idea deep down.”
“I believe it,” she said in a huff. “I want to be free and independent.”
“Your father might have an opinion about that notion. I can’t figure out why he hasn’t already engaged you to some tedious dolt.”
“It’s my biggest fear.”
“If he proceeded, you couldn’t stop him.”
“Yes, and the prospect gives me even more incentive to run away.”
“Is it your plan to flit off to London and pretend to be a rich spinster?”
“I have a small trust fund, so I have my own money. I could do exactly that.”
“A female living alone is generally viewed as a trollop.”
“So I’ll hire a companion, but secretly, maybe I’ll be a bit of a trollop too.”
She pulled him close and kissed him, being eager to impress on him that she wasn’t like the other girls he’d known. He’d likely broken hearts all over the kingdom, and if she hoped to hold onto him, she’d have to prove she was different from the tarts who’d tantalized him in the past.
She suffered a stirring vision of what was approaching. She’d rent a pretty apartment, and she’d have tons of smart, interesting friends. They’d be actors, authors, and other notorious types, all of whom were pursuing her sort of unusual existence.
She’d become an intellectual and write books about women and their need to be liberated from societal constraints. She’d practice what she preached by shunning matrimony. She’d be a vivacious, spirited girl who could make a man like Blake Ralston happy.
Gregory carried on that way. Why couldn’t she? Gregory had a town house and a paramour. Why couldn’t she? Gregory spent money with a reckless abandon. Why couldn’t she? She could barely breathe from yearning for it to transpire.
As their lips parted, she was overcome by the image that had flared. She had to alter herself into the person she’d pictured. She wouldn’t accept any other future.
“Will you help me move to London?” she asked. “My father will try to prevent me, so I’ll have to sneak away. Then I’ll require some assistance after I arrive.”
“You definitely will. A female in the city can’t even rent lodging on her own.”
“Precisely. Some man will have to do it for me.”
“I suppose I can aid you,” he said, “but there can’t be any strings attached.”
“No strings,” she vowed.
“You say that now, but I see how you’re gazing at me. You’re keen to snare me into marriage, but you can’t.”
“I want your help. I don’t want your ring on my finger.”
“I can’t betroth myself anyway. I’m heading back to the navy as soon as my furlough ends. Depending where my ship is stationed, there’s no telling when I’ll be in England again.”
Her pulse raced at the possibility of his departure, but she ignored it. “You’ll be around long enough to get me settled, won’t you?”
“I shouldn’t agree to this.”
“But will you? Please?”
He assessed her forever, then he said. “Fine, Janet Grey. I will help you settle in the city, and there will be no strings attached. If my name is ever linked to yours, you have to insist you barely know me.”
She chuckled. “I do barely know you.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?”
“But I think I should know you quite a bit better.”
He raised a brow. “How might
we accomplish it?”
She felt as if she was running toward a cliff and about to jump over. “It’s awfully chilly in here. Aren’t you freezing?”
“Now that you mention it, I am cold.”
“Would you like me to warm you? We could snuggle for awhile.”
She lifted the blankets and patted the spot next to her on the bed. He studied her, studied the blankets, then said, “Why the hell not? I have a lengthy ride tomorrow. I might as well have some fun tonight.”
Caroline woke with a start. She’d been fast asleep and a noise had roused her. She stared into the dark, overwhelmed by the strongest sense that someone was out in the hall.
She glared at the wood, wishing she had magical eyes so she could see who was on the other side. Her first thought was that it had to be Caleb, and she nearly tossed off the covers and rushed over to peek out, but what if it was Mrs. Starling? What if it was Gregory?
It was late and, no doubt, people had been drinking. If it was either of them, they’d be intoxicated and much more disagreeable than normal. She wouldn’t risk an encounter.
Yet she could practically feel the person reaching out, pondering whether to knock. Then, whoever it had been, he tiptoed away, and she was sure it had been Caleb.
He must have needed to talk to her, and the topic must have been vitally important. What might it have been? Marriage perhaps? It seemed to be their unfinished business.
She threw off the blankets and dashed to the door. She fumbled with the key and yanked it open, but the hall was empty, and she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. She listened intently, but she couldn’t hear anyone retreating.
She staggered to the bed and nestled under the covers. She focused her mind, sending a frantic message to him, apprising him to come back. He didn’t though, and eventually, she fell into a fitful slumber.
When morning finally arrived, she was grouchy and peevish, and clearly, it would be a very long day.
“I’ve given the issue significant thought.”
“Good. So have I.”
Samson frowned at Caroline, and she looked miserable. Her reduced condition proved she was conflicted about her decision to cry off, so he had to decide for her. He had to keep her on the appropriate path, that path being marriage to Gregory.
They were in the dining room and having breakfast. Gregory was nowhere to be found, but for some reason, Janet was up and eating too. She appeared annoyingly perky.
Samson had ordered Lucretia Starling and Caleb Ralston to vacate the premises, but it was already nine o’clock and—unless they’d left early—he hadn’t noticed them preparing to depart.
If they didn’t slither away shortly, he would begin knocking on bedchamber doors to hurry them along. He was determined to get the nuptials back on track, and he was certain, once the infuriating duo vanished—so they weren’t shoved in Caroline’s face every second—matters would calm and she would return to being the malleable young lady she’d been in the past.
“I command you to proceed with the wedding,” he said.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
She sipped her tea, staring blandly, as if she hadn’t just brazenly defied him. He rarely lost his temper. He’d observed too much of that kind of behavior from his horrid father, but she was being so recalcitrant. Would a sound whipping bring her around?
“You can marry Gregory and you will,” he firmly stated.
Janet chimed in with, “Stop badgering her, Father. I’m delighted that she called it off. You should be too. Gregory has so many problems, and we need to address them. It’s cruel to pressure her.”
“Stay out of this, Janet. Caroline is my ward, and I am her guardian. I’m standing in for her father, and her welfare is my primary concern. I’m only trying to do what’s best for her.”
Janet chuckled snidely. “You think Gregory is best?”
He slammed his fork down on his plate. “This is between Caroline and me. Your comments are neither wanted nor necessary. Be silent or leave.”
“No. You’re hoping to browbeat her, and you’re a bully who manipulates her to your own benefit. I am her staunchest ally, and I shall be a bulwark to ensure she thwarts you for a change.”
For years, Janet had been snippy and rude. She read radical books and cherished the theories contained in them. He’d humored her, assuming it was a phase and she’d grow out of it. But it was obvious she’d adopted the peculiar teachings to where she presumed she could disrespect her father without consequence.
Her impertinence had him realizing it was time she had a husband. She was twenty, and she was entirely too bold in her attitudes and ideas. A stern husband would tamp them down quickly enough.
He sat in his chair, studying the two women as they continued with their meal. They were chatting quietly, ignoring him as if he were invisible, and their insolence had him fuming.
He absolutely would not lose control of Caroline’s fortune. If he had to drag her to the altar in chains and speak the vows for her, he would seriously consider doing that. He couldn’t imagine their local vicar would participate though, but there were ways for a father or uncle to garner what he desired from an intractable daughter or niece.
There had to be a corrupt preacher in the country who could be bribed to host a ceremony that would bind her to Gregory. Samson was in charge of her, so he could probably accomplish it without her even being present. And of course, there was the option Gregory had suggested: They could declare she was suffering from hysteria and have her committed to an asylum.
With the stroke of a judge’s pen, she could be ruled incompetent to handle her own affairs. The money would be safely his forever, but he didn’t want to treat her badly. He’d loved her father—his only brother—and he was very fond of her. He merely wanted her to obey him as was proper and fitting.
Janet interrupted his furious reverie. “Father, would you ever permit me to move to London?”
“No, never.”
“Why? You’ve let Gregory stay there all these years.”
“Gregory is a man and you’re not. Your situation is completely different.”
“I have the trust fund I inherited from my grandmother, so I’m not a pauper. I could pay my own expenses. I could just go—whether I have your permission or not.”
“I manage your trust, Janet. Currently, I give you an allowance from it, but I don’t have to do that. I could cut it off. You wouldn’t get very far without it.”
“I could hire a lawyer and replace you as trustee.”
It was such a brash remark that he was amazed he didn’t slap her. “Am I to endure a full-blown insurrection from you two?”
“I simply think it would be fun to reside in town,” Janet said. “I don’t understand why you find the prospect so threatening.”
“Only trollops with loose morals live alone. I’d lock you in a convent before you were able to disgrace yourself like that.”
Janet rolled her eyes, then muttered under her breath, “And you wonder why I’d like to move away.”
“Don’t harass Uncle Samson,” Caroline said to her. “I’ve irritated him to a very high level with my decision about the wedding. It’s unkind of you to nit and pick when he’s in such a foul mood.”
“Caroline is correct about my mood,” he said. “You can’t fathom how angry I am. You shouldn’t push your luck.”
“You never listen to me,” Janet said. “You refuse to see my point of view on any topic.”
“I’ve watched you throw your life away over radical ideas, and I’m sick of it. It’s time you were yanked to your senses. If you had a husband and a few children to keep you busy, you’d be too exhausted to engage in such folderol.”
“You needn’t search for a candidate. For I can guarantee—whoever you might select—I would hate him.”
“Is it your posit
ion—both you and Caroline—that I have no authority over you? That I can’t force you into matrimony?”
His tone was very sharp, and Caroline—always the peacemaker —reached over and patted Janet’s hand. “Please cease your taunts. Your father is out of sorts today.”
Janet scoffed and glared at him. “No, Father, I don’t believe you can force us, so quit being so annoying. It’s not the Middle Ages.”
“You’d be surprised by the power I can wield. You cross me at your peril.”
Caroline tried to placate him. “I’m not crossing you, Uncle. I’ve simply realized I can’t behave as you were expecting.”
“Gregory is a disgusting drunkard,” Janet added, “with a horrendous gambling habit. We’ll likely be camping in a ditch after he beggars us. You have to take off your blinders, Father.”
“He is a gentleman reveling in town,” Samson claimed.
He was worried about the same issues with regard to Gregory, but he wouldn’t admit it to them. It would simply supply Caroline with more ammunition to bolster her rebellion.
“He’s so deranged,” Janet said, “that he brought his paramour home with him. Are we to have no opinion about that? He’s shamed Caroline in every conceivable way, yet still—still!—you demand she shackle herself. What is wrong with you?”
He whacked a palm on the table. “I will not debate the subject with you.”
Janet turned to Caroline. “Did you know he kicked out Caleb and Blake Ralston? He was so rude about it that he ordered them to leave immediately.”
Caroline whipped her gaze to him. “You didn’t, Uncle. Really? Why would you?”
His cheeks heated, but he wasn’t about to be scolded over the decision. “Due to your sudden announcement that you won’t marry Gregory, it’s clear that you’ve grown entirely too cordial with Mr. Ralston. He’s filled your head with lies to where you’re acting like a lunatic.”
“They weren’t lies,” Caroline had the temerity to insist.
“I’ve had enough of your sass and disobedience,” he warned her. “I’ve had enough of Mr. Ralston and his interference. He’s departing shortly. In fact, he may already be gone. I fervidly hope—once we’re shed of him—that familial matters will revert to normal.”