Rapping on the roof of the cab with the head of his walking stick, Stephan commanded his driver’s attention, and gave directions to his former abode on Drury Lane. Rather than going home, he would join Camilla for lunch.
Several minutes later, Stephan disembarked, carrying his cane at a jaunty angle. He lifted the brass knocker and let it fall several times, annoyed and impatient with the servant’s tardiness in answering. He must speak to Camilla about that When the door was finally opened by a flighty young maid with frizzy brown hair, he gave her a searing look and demanded to see his daughter.
In a flurry of activity and nervousness, the trembling maidservant showed him directly to the dining room where Camilla was enjoying a solitary meal. When she saw her father enter, she pointed to a place opposite her with her fork and continued eating.
“Really, Camilla, must you eat like a little cannibal? It is most unbecoming.”
Camilla shot him a venomous glance. They had never really repaired their disagreement of the night she had met Caleb. Her hostility for Stephan lay just beneath the surface of her civility. “At least I can’t complain of not getting enough to eat, which is more than I could say when I looked to you for my welfare.” She pushed a sweet roll to her mouth and took an enormous bite, filling her cheeks like a greedy squirrel.
“Aren’t you going to invite me to luncheon?” Stephan complained. “I was about to join my lovely wife when I decided it had been too long since I had you to myself.”
Camilla picked up the small silver bell resting near her plate and shook it. The tinkling sound brought a maid from the kitchen. “Service for my father,” she ordered. “Are there any more brandied peaches in the kitchen?”
Stephan snorted indignantly as he watched Camilla tear into her broiled trout. “Where have you been, daughter?” he asked after he had been served. “I swear it’s been days since I’ve seen you.”
“If you mean you haven’t seen me aboard your favorite gambling folly, that’s right. You haven’t. I’ve been there but you haven’t been able to pick your eyes off the faro table long enough to see me.”
“Don’t sound so peeved, Camilla. It’s not becoming. Besides, faro is a game of concentration, and I must admit I’ve been taking a trouncing lately. If I don’t keep my wits about me, I’ll lose my shirt.”
Camilla stopped chewing long enough to say, “Perhaps you will be asked to remove your shirt before anyone will play against you, father. Even cheating doesn’t seem to insure your winning.”
“So, it would appear you still visit your young admirer. Caleb van der Rhys, isn’t it? You’re hardly the one to talk about scruples. Has it ever occurred to you your relationship with that young man is nearly incestuous? You are his stepmother. Really, darling,” he used the unctuous voice Camilla hated, “your behavior is not motherly, no, not motherly at all. Tsk, tsk,” he shook his head.
Camilla threw her flatware down on her plate. She was sick of his supercilious, superior attitude. “And just how is it a mother behaves? I wouldn’t know, Father, since you saw to it my mother was taken from me. All these years I suspected; I even heard whispers among the relatives and from Tyler, but I never believed it. I believe it now! You killed my own mother! You had her sent to Bedlam and she died there!” Once into her tirade, Camilla found it difficult to control herself. She hadn’t known she was going to say this. She hadn’t even known she had harbored these feelings toward Stephan until the words were finally out.
“I didn’t kill your mother,” Stephan hastened to explain. “She died of an illness in the Bethlehem Royal Hospital. She was very ill.” His face flushed and he stammered. He had never known Camilla was aware of her mother’s fate much less that he had been the cause of it.
“So, Bethlehem Royal Hospital, is it now? Do you think it sounds better than what it really is, Bedlam? Why even the name is synonomous with insanity. My mother was not a lunatic!” she screamed. “Mother was sick and dispirited, she had given up hope. You drove her to madness in the end. You did!”
Stephan stepped around the table and clutched his daughter by the arms. “Hush your mouth, Camilla,” he hissed. “Do you want the servants to hear?”
“I don’t care if the whole world hears me!” she bellowed, standing up and wrestling free of his grasp. “You killed her!”
Stephan struck her full force in the face and Camilla reeled, holding her hand to her injury. Her tone low and venomous, she spat, “I despise you! Do you know that? I hate you! I hate you for what you’ve done to me all these years. First, you took my mother away and then you convinced me to desert my marriage to Tyler. Then you offered me like a piece of goods to any oncomers who were rich enough to interest you. You sold me to Regan, into a loveless marriage. And now you dare to chastise me for finding a little diversion with Caleb. Well, it’s over, Father. It’s finally over. You’ve had too much influence over my life. I did things I never wanted to do because you told me to do them. I don’t like the woman I am, Father, and I mean to change! And when I do, it will go the worse for you. I promise you that!”
Stephan staggered backward. Camilla had never spoken this way to him. She had always acquiesced to his wishes. They had been more than father and daughter, they had been partners. It was all true what she said, but to hear her say it with such hatred rocked the foundations of his life.
“And I’ll tell you another thing, Father,” she spat the word as though it were a disease. “I plan to right situations. For one thing, I’m going to tell Regan exactly what we did to him, how we lured him into marrying me. If my guess is right, he’ll be relieved to be rid of me. And then I’m going to Tyler on bended knee and beg him to take me back. I don’t care if he’s rich or poor, I love him; I’ve always loved him.” She waited for her words to sink in. She picked up Stephan’s hat and walking stick from the sideboard where he had put them and handed them to him. “And may I tell you, Father, when word reaches the Baron and Baroness of how great a part you took in this whole sordid affair, I hesitate to think of what the Baron will do. You may have married a rich wife and have money to burn, but it won’t get you into polite society.”
Stephan was nearly out of his head with rage. “You would do that, wouldn’t you? Bitch!” he cried, raising his walking stick over his head to strike her down.
Camilla stood up to him unflinchingly, waiting for the blow to fall. But when Stephan saw the resolve in her face, he seemed to crumble like a dry leaf in a wind. His shoulders sagged and he looked suddenly older by twenty years.
“Go on, hit me! If it was good enough for my mother, it is good enough for me!” Stephan lowered his arm, the cane falling from his hand. “Get out of here and never come back!” she hissed. “And if you should pass me on the street, don’t even glance my way! You’re dead to me; I have no father!”
Camilla stepped lightly aboard the Sea Siren, delicately lifting her skirts to keep them from dragging in the soapy water being used to swab the decks. She avoided the neatly coiled rigging lines and hurried to Caleb’s cabin. What she had to tell him was very important, and she couldn’t lose her nerve. It was never easy to admit you were wrong.
She tapped lightly on the solid cabin door and Caleb answered it. He was in the process of shaving and still had lather on half his face. He smiled and bade her enter and went back to his mirror, stroking the straight razor over his face in smooth, practiced motions.
“Caleb, I’ve come to talk to you,” Camilla said, trying for his attention.
“Talk away, I’m listening.” He drew his mouth over to the side in a comical way and continued shaving.
“I’m afraid I’ve come to say good-bye, Caleb.” Her voice was soft and so girlish, at times Caleb found it difficult to believe she was a grown woman.
Caleb’s throat constricted. Did she mean, could she mean, Regan had found them out? “This is so sudden, Camilla. What brought this about?” he asked, fearing the worst.
“If you mean has Regan discovered us, no. And he will never
know.” Imperceptibly, Caleb’s muscles relaxed.
“Then you must have some other reason—”
“Yes, yes I do,” she blurted. “It’s because it’s wrong. Everything in my life has been wrong and I mean to set it straight. I’ve wronged you, Caleb, and I’ve wronged Regan. I don’t think I ever loved either of you. I ... I love someone else and have for a long time. Since I was a child, really. I’m going to make a life with him and I only thank God he still wants me.” She was nearly in tears, but they weren’t the winsome, pathetic tears he had seen her shed in the past. These belonged to a woman ... a happy woman.
Caleb felt as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. His conscience had been more than twinging him and he found it difficult to be in Regan’s company. He would never really be absolved of the sin of bedding his father’s wife, but he would try to make it up to Regan in every way he knew how.
“Do you plan to explain this to Regan?” he asked, coming near her and taking her hand in his. “What do you think he’ll say? A divorce is difficult to obtain under English law, Camilla. Do you plan to desert him?”
“No ... no,” Camilla flushed. “You don’t understand, Caleb. Those times I came crying to you that Regan was beastly ... well, it really wasn’t true. Regan and I ... we used each other. We never loved each other and I’m certain he’ll be glad to be rid of me.” She sobbed brokenly into her glove, but she persisted. Her tears were actually more from relief of at last telling the truth than from a broken heart. “As far as a divorce is concerned ... it won’t be necessary. You see, Caleb,” she said, raising her pansy eyes to level with his, “I was already married when I married Regan. I’m counting on his being a gentleman about it.”
Married! Caleb’s eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “Married!” he echoed his thoughts. “Were you crazy to try a stunt like that on my father! He could have snapped you in two with his bare hands!”
“I know!” Camilla cried hysterically.
“God, Camilla, I hate to think what he would do to you if he really loved you!”
“I know, I know!” she repeated, nodding her head, her brilliant yellow curls dancing.
“And about us? What was that farce? I thought you loved me!”
“Oh I did, Caleb, truly, please believe that,” she raised her eyes imploringly. “I never meant to hurt you; it’s just that I love someone else more. I never have to pretend with him, he knows me exactly for what I am and, wonder of wonders, he loves me in spite of it all. Please try to understand, Caleb.”
Camilla was genuinely distressed and Caleb’s heart went out to her. He patted her hand soothingly, murmuring words of encouragement After all, he could be generous about this whole thing, couldn’t he? Think of what a pickle he’d be in if Camilla had decided it was Caleb she couldn’t live without! “There, there, darling, don’t cry. I’m certain my father will do whatever is right. If it is as you say, Regan will be more than generous about it all, I’m certain of it. Now, can you tell me who this lucky man is?”
Camilla smiled brightly and whispered, “He’s the most wonderful man on this earth, Caleb, and perhaps you know him. It’s Tyler Sinclair,” she beamed.
Caleb laughed. Tyler Sinclair! He laughed till the tears came to his eyes. He found it ridiculously funny that Camilla should think Tyler more a man than Regan! Suddenly, he sobered. Obviously, Camilla also thought Tyler more a man than himself!
An ominous undercurrent of excitement crept around the main room aboard the Sea Siren. Caleb felt it; Aubrey Farrington was aware of it and Stephan Langdon knew it also. Professional gamblers milled about, their eyes sharp, their shoulders squared as though they were marching into battle.
A chill washed over Caleb as his glance went back and forth between Regan and Langdon and then to the gamblers who were making ready to play. Purses of coins and gold guineas were placed on the green baize tabletop. Satisfied with their surroundings, they had placed themselves at the same table where Stephan was gambling recklessly against the house.
Farrington withdrew some silver from his pocket and worked his way through the crowd. His eyes sought Regan’s as Regan, too, inched past the guests. Stephan stood, his money in his hand, oblivious to everything except the stacks of silver in the center of the table. If he knew he was playing against professionals, he gave no sign.
It was close to midnight when Stephan looked up from his dwindling supply of cash and noticed Regan and Aubrey Farrington. He glanced at his nearly depleted hoard and licked his dry lips. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Caleb walk from the table. His thoughts raced. It was now getting to be a matter of principle. He would not leave empty-handed. At best, he had another hour of play. His son-in-law was a fool and Farrington was little better. What could they do to him in a room full of guests? They had their reputation to think of. They knew as well as he that a scene would be regrettable.
He was nervous and jittery. The scenes with Camilla that afternoon and Sirena the night before had left him strained and an eerie foreboding haunted him. He must get his emotions under control if he were to pull off any tricks. If his hands shook, he would drop the cards and he would be finished.
He played listlessly for a while, his thoughts conflicting with his better judgment. Did he dare try the card in his sleeve? He looked furtively at Regan and Farrington. They knew. If he had any brains left to him, he should leave, but his sickness for a gamble overruled his better judgment.
Worms of fear crawled around Lord Farrington’s belly as he concentrated on Stephan Langdon. Why did that fool have to pick tonight of all nights to try his tricks? These were professionals he was playing against They played with a vengeance and their eyes were as sharp as axes. Farrington knew the blade would fall within minutes.
Damn, didn’t he have enough troubles with that scurve Blackheart breathing down his neck? The man was a monster. He must leave the gaming room to get back to his cabin to see what the swarthy seaman wanted this time. Deftly, he withdrew his round, gold timepiece and the sickening sensation moved to his throat. Almost an hour had gone by since he had taken Blackheart to his cabin with the promise he would return shortly. How long would the scurve wait? Would he come into the gaming parlor and make a scene? What was he to do? Caleb, where was Caleb? He lifted his long-fingered, aristocratic hand and tried to catch Caleb’s attention.
The young man was greeting a new arrival, appreciating the deep cut of her neckline and smiling wickedly. Damn! Cal would be of no use to him. The young man had other thoughts on his mind at the moment. Regan then. It was time he did something to earn his share in the Sea Siren. Let him handle it. He didn’t give a damn if the gamblers killed Langdon. “It’s my own neck I’m worried about,” he whispered to himself. Blackheart wasn’t going to wait much longer.
Carefully, he inched his way between a small cluster of murmuring women, unmindful of the gaiety at the other tables and the soft, sensual music in the background. And that was another thing; why in the name of God did Cal insist on music? Everything was bothering him. Now, the sounds of the gaming tables and the music hit him full force as he came abreast of van der Rhys. He would have to shout or signal Regan so he would move from his position beside Langdon.
Just as he was about to tap Regan on the shoulder, Stephan Langdon doubled over, his face a mask of pain. Play stopped while the dealer looked around for help. Regan, who was closest to Stephan, reached out to grasp his arm, fearing a seizure of some sort, when Stephan straightened, a grim look on his face. “It’s nothing,” he said huskily. “Let’s resume play.” He tossed his cards down and pandemonium broke loose.
“Asinine fool! That trick is as old as my grandmother,” one of the players growled.
Farrington hissed in Regan’s ear, “I thought you were watching him!”
All play in the room ceased. The soft music came to a tinny halt as Caleb, a murderous look on his face, approached the card table.
“Cheat!”
“Liar!”
/> “Double-cheating scurve!”
“Unhand me, you lout,” Stephan shouted, fear in his eyes. “Unhand me this instant or I’ll call you out,” he threatened.
Two of the gamblers grasped an arm and literally dragged him to the nearest exit. The taller of the two, his face sharp and hateful, shouted so that everyone could hear him. “Then call me out, in front of everyone.”
Fear snaked its way to Langdon’s throat, making it impossible for him to speak. If he did as the gambler wanted, the gambler would have the choice of the dueling weapons. Christ, what if he chose pistols! He licked at dry lips and tried to squirm loose.
“Do it,” Regan said harshly. “You have no other choice. If you don’t, by this time tomorrow, you’ll be a dead man, and you know what I say is the truth. Not only is it your honor but it is also your life. Decide now, before some of these gentlemen take matters into their own hands.”
Stephan Langdon swallowed hard and nodded. The viselike hold on his arms loosened and the sharp-faced man smiled. “Pistols at dawn. Name your second.”
Stephan looked around the room and could sense hostility and animosity. Guilty of cheating at cards. He was ruined. He pointed a trembling finger at Regan who immediately backed off a step and felt murder rage in him. He, too, had no other choice. He nodded curtly at the circle of gamblers and made as if to leave. A gambler brought up a pistol from his belt and flourished it in the air. “One of my men will escort you home and watch your house. We wouldn’t want you to lose your way.”
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