Callum: Regency Rockstars

by Sasha Cottman

  She wasn’t asking for a miracle, just the possibility of hope. Callum had pushed her away. He may never come back to her, and she would eventually be forced to accept that reality. But if anyone thought that there was a remote possibility of her being able to move on with her life, while the man she loved slowly but surely destroyed himself, then they were fools.

  “If that is all you wished to discuss, I shall leave you to go and find some breakfast. I have a house to run, more Noble Lords bookings to make, and a ballroom which needs airing,” she said.

  Reid got to his feet. “Of course. But will you do one thing for yourself?”

  “What is that?”

  “Make an appointment with your modiste and have some new gowns made up.”

  Of course, Reid wanted her to update her wardrobe. If he was going to present his sister onto the marriage market, Viscount Follett wanted her looking her best. “I shall think about it,” she replied.

  Eliza left Reid’s study with a heavy heart. He was determined to see her actively looking for a husband, to finally break Callum’s hold on her.

  As far as she knew, her brother had never once been in love, had no understanding of the deep bond that existed between fated lovers. He just saw Callum as an inconvenient rock in the road to her finding happiness—something to be moved out of the way.

  “Perhaps it is time to broaden my group of friends. No harm can come from it,” she whispered.

  Sitting pining in her room for a lost love was not going to do her any good. A small piece of her heart would always remain with Callum and that would have to be enough. She had loved him and lost him.

  Who knew? Perhaps the great love of her life was waiting to meet her at the next party or ball she attended, and one day, she would look back on all of this and only have the memories of faded emotions.

  If Reid could help to save Callum, then she owed it to him to try and move on with her life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Take care of yourself,” said Sir Thomas.

  Callum released his father from his hug and smiled. It was a false one, but he had promised himself he would do all he could not to fall apart in front of him. If his father could be brave, then so could he.

  “It’s you I am more worried about. I still cannot believe this is happening,” he replied.

  Being brave in battle was one thing—keeping a stiff upper lip in the face of such impending grief was a constant tussle. How many more times would he get to hold his father in his arms, get to tell him he loved him?

  It was several days after the shameful event of waking up in his own vomit on the floor of the ballroom and Callum was spending as much time as he could away from Follett House.

  He and the baron had invested many hours at Sharp House going over estate and business papers. Sir Thomas was getting his affairs in order and readying his son to take over.

  Callum had struggled to pay attention after the first couple of hours. By the time he finally left Seymour Street a little after eight o’clock, he was in desperate need of a drink.

  As his carriage came to a halt out the front of Follett House, he was still tossing up ideas as to where he was going to get drunk this evening. The house footman came forward and opened the door.

  Callum stepped out onto the footpath just as Eliza and Reid drew away in the Follett town carriage. The sight of Reid and his sister leaving the house stopped him in his tracks. The Follett siblings rarely socialized together. Eliza had her own circle of rich and influential friends, few of whom were close to Reid or the rest of the Noble Lords. The two of them going anywhere together was an unusual event.

  Inside, he met Owen who was also dressed for an evening out on the town.

  Callum nodded toward the front door. “Where were Eliza and Reid going?”

  “The British Museum. Reid managed to secure tickets for a private viewing of the collection. It is a thank you gift to Lady Eliza for putting up with all of us. They are headed out to a private party afterwards. He even treated her to a new pale lemon gown, which to be honest, looks smashing on her. Eliza does scrub up a treat when the mood takes her,” replied Owen.

  “Which party?” asked Callum, pretending to ignore the comment about Eliza’s appearance.

  “An intimate gathering with a few selected friends at Lord and Lady Jersey’s house. Apparently, Lady Jersey has a cousin, one of the Child’s banking family members, who is rumored to be on the hunt for a wife. If you ask me, I think Reid is planning to put his sister in the chap’s line of sight and see if he will snap her up.”

  Callum gritted his teeth. Reid was obviously making good on his threat to have Eliza married off to someone else. The actions of his friend were no surprise, but Eliza actually agreeing to fall into line with Reid’s dictate was most unexpected.

  What are you doing, Eliza?

  “And Eliza was happy to go along with her brother’s plan? I mean, is she really serious about finding herself a husband? I don’t believe that for one minute,” he replied. What about her grand declarations of love, her sworn devotion? Her heartfelt determination to be his wife? He couldn’t envisage that it had all vanished into thin air just because he had told her he didn’t love her.

  It wasn’t right. He had given her a promise ring.

  And you demanded it back. Remember that part? You should—you were sober when you did it.

  Shit.

  Something stirred within; he was sure his heart had just skipped a beat. Bloody hell. Just because he had told her that things were over between them didn’t mean she should go off and look for love elsewhere.

  Owen put on his coat and retrieved his gloves from a pocket. He nodded to a footman. “Could you please hail a hack for me? I am ready to leave.”

  He turned back to Callum. “I am not sure whether it is that Eliza has decided it is high time for her to go and find herself a husband, or if it is a sly move on her part to make Reid find himself a wife. Now that some of the rest of us are headed down the path to marital mayhem, her getting married might be the best way to give her brother a hard shove in that direction,” said Owen.

  With a cheery wave, he headed for the front door. “Have a good night, Callum. Try and go easy on the gin. We have a full day of rehearsals tomorrow.”

  Callum groaned. “Yes, Kendal has already warned me about not making any more mistakes.”

  He couldn’t honestly blame Kendal for having lost his temper with him. He had been giving the gin a serious nudge one day earlier in the week and had dropped his flute mid-performance. Kendal had gone off his head, threatening to do unspeakable things to Callum’s instrument, and matters between them remained strained.

  There was a click as the front door was closed. Callum turned and started for the stairs. He had been intending to head into the dining room and avail himself of a drink or three, but the news of Eliza and Reid’s evening excursion now concentrated his mind. He made for his bedroom.

  The idea that Eliza might seriously be out on the hunt for a husband had him rattled. She may well have been calling his bluff, but if Reid was in on the plan for her to be actively seeking suitors, he doubted his fellow Noble Lord would be holding back when it came to making introductions. And knowing Reid, he would have a veritable crowd of eligible bachelors lined up to throw in front of his sister.

  This was not Callum’s week. He had done everything Reid had asked of him, and all that he thought he should do. Now he was having serious second thoughts.

  Yes, he had told Eliza that they were over. That she should give up on her foolish dreams of being his wife and look elsewhere for love.

  He hadn’t thought she would actually do it.

  “Eliza, don’t you bloody well dare,” he muttered.

  Once inside his room, Callum shrugged off his coat and jacket. He scrubbed his hand over his face. He was so desperate for a drink he could almost taste it.

  “No.”

  For the first time in a very long time, he keenly fought the urge.
If Eliza was out this evening meeting with a potential future husband, the last thing he should be doing was getting drunk.

  And yet he needed that first drink.

  And the one after that.

  He sat on his bed clenching his fists. It had to be possible for him to get through a day without a drop of alcohol. Reid seemed to manage it without too much effort.

  Yes, but that is because Reid is not some high-functioning drunkard. He has his liquor habits somewhat under control.

  Of course, Reid had things under control. He wasn’t the one battling demons. Reid’s memories of Waterloo were very different from his own. As the commanding officer, Reid had been the one to give out orders; it was the lower-ranked officers such as himself who were left to carry them out. To face the worst of the fighting.

  He flopped on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Nothing in his life was going right. The Noble Lords were the only bright light in an otherwise blighted existence. Even Eliza, the one person who he had thought infallible, appeared to have finally given up on him.

  And to top it all off, he was about to lose his father. He felt impotent over the situation with Sir Thomas, unable to do anything. It was all so heartbreakingly hopeless.

  He screwed his eyes shut as the tears started. He could have fought them, but he let them come. “What the hell am I going to do?”

  He had thought Eliza a constant in his life and now it seemed she had washed her hands of him. Without her, he had no one.

  Oh, Eliza, what have I done? I’m so bloody lost.

  He laid an arm over his face and sobbed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The visit to the British Museum was pleasant enough, but Eliza had been there plenty of times and the displays held little new interest for her. She gushed over some of the exhibits as a way to make Reid feel good about his generous gift of a private tour. Later, when they were finally making their way out onto Great Russell Street, Eliza yawned.

  “Can we please go home now?” she said.

  Reid was not so easily swayed by her protest. “You promised you would try and get out socially.”

  Eliza screwed up her face. “Alright . . . you did buy me a new gown, so I suppose I am obliged to go suffer an evening with other people.”

  Her brother gave her an encouraging smile and helped her into the carriage. They made their way through the busy evening crush of carriages and horses before pulling up out the front of a magnificent mansion in Berkley Square.

  From her grandfather’s will, Countess Jersey had inherited a vast fortune. She was a senior partner of Child & Co and one of the richest women in England. She was also a friend of the Prince of Wales’ estranged wife, Princess Caroline, so she and Eliza had not mixed socially in the past. Eliza knew little of her on a personal level.

  “So, who is this gentleman you are trying to pair me up with tonight? I am assuming that is why we are here,” she asked.

  Reid nodded. “His name is Randolph Ward. He is a cousin of the countess and very well connected in banking circles.”

  There was weight in Reid’s words. Well-connected in banking meant Randolph had some serious blunt and so did his friends. A man with money would be looking to make a smart match with a wife who had the social links to expand his reach. A woman who just happened to be the sister of a viscount would be a perfect candidate.

  “He has money and influence. Were those two attributes at the top of your list? I hope a sense of humor and intelligence were not too far behind,” said Eliza.

  “Randolph Ward ticks a great many things on my list of must-haves for a potential husband for you, Eliza. Of course, it is up to you as to how you go about the business of uncovering them. The decision as to whom you eventually marry is yours,” he replied.

  Just as long as it is not Sir Callum Sharp.

  She bit her tongue rather than give voice to what she suspected they were both thinking.

  Eliza took hold of Reid’s offered hand and stepped down from the carriage. The towering grey stone house occupied a sizeable portion of Berkley Square. Getting a peek inside had long been one of Eliza’s private wishes, so she consoled herself that if Randolph Ward turned out to be a crushing bore then at least her idle curiosity would have been sated. She wasn’t on the hunt for anything more this evening—and that included love.

  Reid leaned in. “Oh, and he is a close friend of Kendal’s brother, Phillip, so be careful with what you say about the Noble Lords. The Duke of Banfield is not exactly happy about Kendal spending the summer at Follett House. He would have preferred him to be out on the hunt for a wife, not playing in a musical group.”

  Now there was a thought.

  “Perhaps I should go and have a chat with Kendal; don’t you think he would make a great brother-in-law for you?”

  Reid gave her a sideways glance. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  The smart retort, which was almost to her lips, died as the front door opened. Eliza pasted a polite smile to her face and headed up the steps.

  Inside the mansion, Reid let go of her arm before making the introductions. “Eliza, may I introduce my acquaintance, Mister Randolph Ward. Mister Ward is the cousin of our hostess this evening.”

  Randolph Ward stepped forward and Eliza’s world tilted a little on its axis. He was tall. She guessed him to be a good six foot, three inches. Dark, chestnut hair that had been oiled and slicked back with precision graced the top of his head. A long patrician nose was perfectly positioned in the middle of his face. And those eyes. Eliza was drawn in by a pair of warm dark brown eyes that promised . . . everything.

  She offered Randolph her hand. He took it and bowed his head.

  “Lady Eliza, such a delight to meet you,” said Randolph.

  “Mister Ward,” she finally managed. Randolph Ward was a stunningly handsome man. She was still staring at him, her heart going all a pitter-patter, when he turned and bowed to Reid.

  “Lord Follett. Thank you for bringing your sister with you this evening. I must ask, how have you managed to keep all of London’s bachelors from breaking down your front door and begging for her hand in marriage? I don’t know how you do it.”

  Heat raced to Eliza’s cheeks and she couldn’t help herself. She tittered like a young, silly thing.

  Oh, God, kill me now.

  “Eliza has been busy running Follett House and much of my estate, for which I am constantly grateful. Lord knows what I shall do when some lucky chap eventually snaps her up,” replied Reid.

  She shyly dropped her gaze to the floor, embarrassed to hear herself being spoken of in such glowing terms. Of course, it made perfect sense that Reid would be singing her praises to Randolph. A wife who not only came with a sizeable dowry, but also the experience of running a London town house and a large country estate was worth her weight in gold.

  “We do have servants,” she murmured.

  “Ah, yes, but it takes a special kind of woman to be able to manage all those people. Your brother tells me that you are also hosting three other gentlemen of title at your home at present. How do you find the time?” said Randolph.

  “My sister is possessed with a degree of patience that many other women do not,” said Reid.

  Eliza gave her brother a tight smile but said nothing, all the while she was silently praying that he would shut the hell up. She was no saint. The last thing she needed was for Reid to make her out to be someone she was not.

  Randolph offered his arm to her. “May I escort you into dinner, Lady Eliza?”

  She caught a hint of his gentleman’s cologne. It had warm notes and just a hint of spice about it. The contrast to Callum’s scent was quite telling. While Randolph’s was understated and barely there, the alluring fragrance which Callum usually wore seemed to linger long after he had departed. Even now, she could recall how her breath seemed to catch every time she was close enough to Callum to get even a whisper of his scent.

  Her mind was still focused on a certain fair haired gentleman as she took
Randolph’s offered arm, but when he leaned over and smiled at her, Eliza’s mind suddenly emptied.

  Randolph Ward was a revelation.

  “Good night, Reid. Thank you for this evening. It was wonderful,” said Eliza.

  “I am glad you enjoyed it. You and Mister Ward seemed to get along well,” he replied.

  All evening, Reid and their hostess, Lady Jersey, had kept a close eye on the dinner conversation she and Randolph had been sharing. From the smiles the two of them had exchanged as Eliza and Reid made their farewells at the end of the night, it was clear they both held high hopes for a future union between Eliza and Randolph.

  “He is a nice man. I found him easy to talk to, and he, in turn, actually listened to what I had to say,” said Eliza.

  It was unusual to find a man in London society who did pay attention to the thoughts and opinions of an unwed woman. Rare indeed. If she had put together her own list of attributes she could wish for in a potential husband, Randolph Ward had ticked a great many boxes.

  “That is excellent news. I trust you accepted his invitation to the garden party for this weekend. It would please me greatly if you did attend,” replied Reid.

  “I told him I would think about it. I promised I would let him know in the next few days if I can fit the party into my schedule. One never knows what spontaneous event his Royal Highness will suddenly decide to host and demand that I attend. I also have some more bookings for the Noble Lords which I must follow up on,” she said.

  The smile on Reid’s face dimmed. “Don’t worry about the Noble Lords. I can take over the management of the group if it interferes with you spending time with other people. You need to make your own life a priority.”