Someone to Cherish

by Cheryl Holt

  Spectators cheered or groaned, depending on their wagers, and Gregory’s shoulders slumped with defeat. Then he glared at Mr. Ralston in a way that had others nervously shifting in their shoes. Clearly, there was more transpiring between them than she understood.

  Mrs. Starling jumped in with, “Don’t worry, Gregory. You’ll best him tonight. I’m sure you will.”

  She grinned and swept her gaze around the group, wearing everyone down until they grinned too. Swiftly, the bystanders were chortling wildly, chattering over Mr. Ralston’s remarkable ability, over the size of the wager. Men hurried out to the target, and they were gesturing and measuring, obviously awed by his skill.

  Mr. Ralston laid the bow on the table, and when he straightened, he saw her lurking in the back. He stared intensely, as if imparting a secret message she needed to decode, but she couldn’t fret about him. At the moment, he was the last of her concerns.

  She felt aggrieved and very, very angry. She wanted to throttle Gregory, but with the party in progress, how could she make him listen? He never did. Not even her Uncle Samson could get through to him.

  Earlier, Janet had wondered if he’d beggar them in the end, and Caroline had sworn he’d never be that reckless. What was she to think now?

  She wedged herself into the crowd until she reached Gregory, but it was Mrs. Starling who noticed her.

  “Gregory,” she said, “look who’s arrived.”

  “Caroline!” Gregory spun toward her. “Were you here when Ralston was shooting? Isn’t he something?”

  “Yes, he definitely is.” She leaned nearer. “It’s three o’clock.”

  Gregory frowned. “So it is.”

  “We had an appointment.”

  “Oh. . .” He sipped his beverage, then toasted her with his glass. “It’s not convenient for me. The fun has just begun, and we’re the hosts. It wouldn’t be sporting for me to sneak off.”

  “Please?” She hated the beseeching tone in her voice.

  “I’ll find you later—after the competition is over. There are a few more men who want to have a chance.” He laughed too eagerly. “Although after the show Ralston gave us, I don’t know why anyone would humiliate himself. Who could match him?”

  There was a strong odor of alcohol emanating from his person, and she bit her tongue so hard she was surprised it wasn’t gnawed bloody.

  He smiled a condescending smile, the one that warned her she was simply being placated, and he murmured, “In the meantime, could you talk to the kitchen for me? This punch is awful. It’s supposed to be lemony, but it tastes like dishwater.”

  “I will speak to someone. I’m sorry that it’s not to your liking.”

  Mrs. Starling flashed a derisive smirk, then snuggled closer to Gregory, leaving Caroline with the distinct impression that they were a couple and Caroline an interloper. Another contestant had picked up a bow, and they turned away from her as the wagers commenced again.

  She’d been dismissed, as if she was Gregory’s servant, and she was trying not to be furious. After all, she ran the manor and managed the staff. It was only natural—if he had a complaint—that he would expect her to deal with it.

  But she should have been the female standing with him. The fact that she wasn’t, that he was enjoying an afternoon of debauchery that didn’t appeal to her in the slightest, underscored that she was marching down a road she shouldn’t be on.

  How could she get off it?

  She whirled away, but not before she saw Mr. Ralston still gazing at her from across the crowd. That was the worst piece of it for her. She couldn’t bear that he’d watched her being humiliated by her betrothed.

  She walked to the verandah, and as she climbed the stairs, Janet emerged from the house. With her blond hair, blue eyes, and curvaceous figure, she was very pretty, but she usually dressed like a grumpy governess. She had declared beauty and fashion to be a wily scheme pushed by men to keep women oppressed.

  Yet suddenly, she appeared to be the rich, winsome girl she was. Her hair had been curled and braided, and she was attired in a fetching blue gown. The sight was so odd that Caroline was stunned.

  “My, my,” Caroline said, “don’t you look smart.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What brought this on?”

  “I decided to join in the festivities.” She studied the revelers. “Is Mr. Ralston’s brother here. Blake Ralston? Have you met him?”

  “No.”

  “Then I don’t imagine you can tell me where he is.”

  “No, but Mr. Ralston is in the thick of it. He might know.”

  “Perfect.”

  Janet sauntered off, a lovely, determined young lady on a mission. Apparently, Blake Ralston had intrigued her, and Caroline should have been humored by the prospect. She should have dawdled and smiled fondly as Janet searched for Blake and found him, but she simply couldn’t tarry another second.

  She was distressed and feeling completely adrift. She wished she had magical powers, that she was a bird and could fly away to a better place, to a happier place.

  With a vehemence that almost knocked her over, it dawned on her that she didn’t want to wed Gregory. She couldn’t abide the idea, and the whole charade left her nauseous.

  She went inside, and she raced to the stairs, not caring if she was observed. She couldn’t breathe, and she yearned to break down and start sobbing. She dashed up to her bedchamber, not slowing until she was safely sequestered inside it.

  She didn’t have a posh suite like Gregory, Janet, or her Uncle Samson. She had a tidy bedroom that was just a single room, with no fancy sitting or dressing room. What would she have used them for anyway? She had a few gowns and undergarments, a few shawls and other accoutrements. They fit in the wardrobe and dresser.

  It was the room she’d been given when she’d returned from the Caribbean, and after she’d become an adult, she could have requested more spacious quarters, but she hadn’t been interested. The spot, located down a deserted hall, was her sanctuary where she could hide from the craziness in the rest of the manor.

  As a child, she’d spent untold hours loafing in it, peering out the window and wondering where Libby and Joanna had gone. When times had gotten particularly bad, when she’d been scolded or even whipped for sassing, she’d fantasized about running away to find them.

  In her juvenile mind, she’d envisioned them being a family, with no adults to hurt or chastise them.

  The years had passed though and that dream had faded. She acclimated to her quiet, untenable existence. She’d learned how to avoid her grandfather, how to keep from enraging him. He’d died when she was fourteen, and he hadn’t been mourned, most especially by her. Her Uncle Samson had moved home, and he’d brought Janet and Gregory with him. Matters had improved significantly after that.

  He wasn’t the kindest person, but he was never deliberately cruel. He never whipped her or shouted at her. He never sent her to bed without supper. Why, his initial act had been to buy her some clothes! She’d outgrown the items she’d had, but no one had noticed.

  She’d been glad for the changes her uncle had wrought, and when he’d suggested she wed Gregory, she’d agreed without reflecting. She’d been seventeen! What did she know about marriage? What did she know about anything?

  She lurched to her bed and eased down, her hips balanced on the edge of the mattress. Usually, the solitude was very comforting, but she was too angry to be soothed.

  In a moment of irksome clarity, it occurred to her that she possessed so few things she could truly call her very own. Why was that exactly?

  Her uncle and Gregory were carrying on in a very grand style. Why wasn’t she? She wasn’t a stranger who’d wandered in off the street. She was one of Walter Grey’s three grandchildren. Her father, Winston, had been the oldest son when he’d perished in the Caribbean. Why had she been given so
little by her uncle and grandfather? Why hadn’t she demanded more for herself?

  She was fuming in a manner that was rare for her. Her life had been hard and miserable, and it had played out in such an unfair way—due to her male kin.

  Maybe Janet was correct in her attitude. Maybe the two of them should cast off the yokes imposed by Gregory and Samson and head to the city. They could live together without the drama and irritation men caused. It was such a pleasant notion that tears flooded her eyes.

  What should she do? It was painfully obvious she couldn’t continue on as she was. There had to be some massive concessions on Gregory’s part or she couldn’t proceed with the wedding. How could she produce that sort of conclusion though? How could she simply announce—six days before the ceremony—that she was backing out?

  The door opened, and she braced, not able to fathom who might have followed her up the stairs. When she realized who’d arrived, she was thrilled, but alarmed too, and the first words out of her mouth were, “You can’t be in here.”

  “Too late, Caro,” Mr. Ralston said. “I already am.”

  “What if someone saw you?”

  “I was cautious, but if I was observed, I don’t care.”

  “Well, I care! Have you any idea of the trouble I’d be in if you were discovered in my bedchamber?”

  “I can vividly imagine it, but your relatives are a bunch of buffoons. Why let their opinions matter?”

  “They’re the only family I have.”

  “Yes, poor you.”

  He spun the key in the lock, sealing them in, then he leaned against the dresser and stared at her.

  She stared back, a thousand comments clogging her throat. She had so many grievances to air, and she was feeling so maligned. She’d never had a confidante, and she was desperate to have someone listen and offer advice she could trust, but she was afraid—should she ever begin to unburden herself—she might ignite a whirlwind that would sweep the whole world off its axis.

  Yet for once, she couldn’t remain silent.

  “Is Gregory a drunkard?” she asked, figuring it was a good place to start.

  “He has a terrible problem with liquor.”

  “And with gambling too?”

  “Yes.”

  “I badgered him about it this morning, and he claimed it’s merely fun and games.”

  “It’s not fun and games,” he quietly said.

  “How much debt has he accrued?”

  “Just to me, do you mean?”

  She gasped. “How many people are owed money by him?”

  “I couldn’t guess, but the amount he owes me is staggering.”

  Her jaw dropped with astonishment. “How did that happen?”

  He shrugged. “As it usually happens, I suppose. He’s a lousy gambler, and his drinking doesn’t help. He grows inebriated, and he can’t track the cards or the dice. Once he’s dug a hole, he keeps digging, assuming he can wager himself out of it.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  “Would you cancel his debt? If I begged, would you?”

  “No,” he callously replied. “I don’t like Gregory, and I have no duty to him. It’s not my business if he can’t control himself.”

  “It’s my business though. It’s my home and my family’s money. Please?”

  “No.” He bristled. “I wish I had a farthing for every woman who ever prostrated herself to me over some wastrel man.”

  “You and I are friends, aren’t we?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, we’re. . . something.” She was unable to clarify their relationship. “Why won’t you oblige me?”

  “I’m not Gregory’s nanny, and it’s not up to me to make him behave.”

  “Will we lose the estate over this? Is that where we are with him?” He frowned at her for so long that her heart pounded with dread. “Tell me. How dire is it?”

  “It’s dire.”

  “But he continues on with you.”

  “He hopes he’ll eventually get lucky.”

  She scoffed at that. “I’ve known Gregory for twenty years. He’s not exactly a lucky fellow.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “How can I change your mind?” she asked. “I’ll do anything.”

  He winced. “You shouldn’t utter a remark like that to a man like me. I might take you up on it, and since you’re still a maiden, you can’t grasp the boons I’d demand.”

  She tsked with offense. “Don’t pretend to be horrid. You’d never hurt me.”

  “You haven’t a clue what I’m capable of perpetrating.”

  As he voiced the warning, there was a steeliness in his tone that was unnerving. It forced her to realize he could be dangerous if pushed to a steep ledge. Though it wounded her to admit it, he could harm her without batting an eye.

  It occurred to her that she was being very stupid. They were practically strangers, and she’d imbued him with traits he obviously didn’t possess.

  “I can’t marry him,” she blurted out, letting the perilous words fly into the air.

  He didn’t jump to agree that it was the right decision. He merely raised a brow. “Can you back out? At this late date, is it even a possibility?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to go to my uncle and insist we end it, but I can’t imagine having that conversation with him.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I feel very sorry for you.”

  She batted her lashes in a mocking way. “Aren’t I fortunate to have your sympathy!”

  “I have naught to give you but sympathy.”

  “You could give me Gregory’s promissory notes.”

  “That won’t ever happen.”

  She stood and went to the window. From her room, she couldn’t see the party, and she was glad she couldn’t. She had no desire to watch what was transpiring.

  He was behind her, and she could sense him studying her, his presence brash and overwhelming. He simply took up too much space, and she yearned to whip around, to shout at him to stop tormenting her, but she’d never been the type of person who shouted.

  After a bit, she asked, “Why are you at Grey’s Corner, Mr. Ralston? You and Gregory aren’t friends. Why did he invite you to the wedding? Why did you accept?”

  “He’s anxious to stay on my good side. He owes me so much money, and if I cut him off and he couldn’t play at my club anymore, he’d be devastated. It would make him a pariah. All his acquaintances revel there. If he couldn’t revel with them, his social world would collapse.”

  “Maybe it should collapse. Maybe it would save him.”

  He didn’t respond to her comment, and she glanced over her shoulder. He was still studying her, his gaze potent and thrilling. She’d never had anyone look at her as he looked, as if he could delve down to the tiniest pore, as if she had no secrets from him.

  “Why follow me to my room?” She was terrified to hear his answer. Would she be delighted? Or would it leave her even more conflicted?

  “I didn’t like how you were treated out in the garden.”

  “I can’t say I was overly keen about it either.”

  “I thought about punching him and ordering him to quit being such an ass. Should I have?”

  She smirked with irritation. “No, you shouldn’t have punched him.”

  “I didn’t think you’d like me to. It’s the only reason I didn’t.”

  “Are you here because you’re simply being kind? Is that it? You noticed I was upset, and you had to check on me?”

  “I wouldn’t admit to that.”

  “What is it then?”

  He came over to her, crossing the floor in three quick strides. Before she could move, before she could blink, he pulled her into his arms. Then he was kissing her a
nd kissing her.

  It was wild and unrestrained and bizarre. She might have been out of her body, assessing another woman as she behaved precisely as she shouldn’t. She’d decided she couldn’t marry Gregory, but she was still officially betrothed, so her conduct was sinful and wrong. She’d probably wind up in Hell for it, but at the moment, she couldn’t worry about her immortal soul.

  She was perplexed and aggrieved, and Mr. Ralston was the sole person who’d recognized she was hurting and shouldn’t be alone. He’d had to find out if she was all right. He’d been eager to comfort her, and she was elated to let him.

  His hands were in her hair, his tongue in her mouth. His curious fingers roamed over her torso, touching her everywhere, as if imprinting her shape into his memory.

  The embrace grew more unruly. They scratched, clawed, and wrestled, going at it like two cats trapped in a sack. Who kissed like this? Who carried on as if they were the last people on earth who would ever kiss?

  She felt as if they’d tumbled off a cliff together, that they were falling down and down and down, and she wondered where she’d be when they landed at the bottom. Would it be a soft and cushioned place? Or would she hit the ground hard and never recover?

  Gradually, they ran out of steam. They slowed, their lips parting, and he rested his forehead on her own. For a long while, they hovered just there, both of them seemingly stunned by the powerful emotions generated.

  Eventually, he eased away. He smiled down at her, appearing wicked and fabulous and even a tad bewildered. She had no idea what he was thinking, what he might say, but when she heard what it was, she chuckled.

  “I’m afraid I like you more than I should,” he told her.

  “That might be an understatement.”

  “I can’t figure out what’s driving me. There’s nothing about you to indicate you’re my type of female. You too short and too skinny, and you’re not blond.”

  “You certainly know how to make a girl feel special.”