by Cheryl Holt
“I am not. I’m discerning and pragmatic.”
“No, you’re pompous and ridiculous, and you’re a coward too.”
“I’m not a coward!”
“You’re scared to find out if I’m right. It sounds cowardly to me.”
She gazed up at him, and her heart actually palpitated, as if she was a blushing debutante, which was so annoying.
She’d spent years, figuring out what kind of adult she yearned to be. She’d read, studied, and listened to wiser women talk about female roles, and she liked what she’d learned. She’d groomed herself to be an independent thinker, to have modern attitudes about everything from matrimony to child-bearing.
It was galling to admit that, deep down, she was no different from any other girl. Blake Ralston had recognized it too—before she had.
He was standing in front of her, attired in his uniform, and he created such a vision of manly strength and beauty that she was completely bowled over. It wasn’t fair for him to be so striking. It wasn’t fair for him to cause such turmoil.
From the minute he’d kissed her in the garden, she’d struggled to keep him at bay. He’d immediately deduced her ploy, and he’d been taunting her ever since. Suddenly, she was questioning what she believed about society and herself.
He’d merely showered her with a bit of attention, and she wanted to throw herself at him and engage in conduct she couldn’t describe. Her body was on fire as it had never been in the past, and she had no idea how to quell the peculiar cravings he stirred. But why should she quell them?
What if she succumbed to passion? Would the world end if she did? The female authors she idolized all claimed that women should be able to make the same amorous choices as men—and they shouldn’t be shunned for it. Was she a modern woman or not?
Was she ready to practice what she preached? Was she brave enough to seize the day? Or was she simply dull, provincial, Janet Grey, who was frightened of her own shadow?
She should probably test a few of her theories. She didn’t have to moon over him and exhaust herself with wondering if he was about to propose. She could view their relationship as a man would. They could have a brief dalliance. Why not? Men pursued them all the time. Why couldn’t she?
She would trifle with him while he was at Grey’s Corner for the wedding, then, once he departed, she’d never think of him again. It’s how a man would behave, and she tamped down a smirk. When they were finished, she’d let him down gently. They’d part on good terms. Perhaps she’d even give him a gift to remember her by.
She glanced down the hall, but saw no one. People were in their bedchambers, dressing for supper, and soon, they’d head downstairs to mingle and chat prior to the meal being served. She’d intended to go down too, having heard from a housemaid that there was trouble brewing between Caroline and Janet’s father.
Janet had to discover what was happening, but Blake had accosted her before she could. He was much more interesting than Caroline and the problem plaguing her. Her cousin would just have to wait.
She gestured to him, then went back to her room, and as she stepped inside, he followed like a puppet on a string. He shut the door and spun the key in the lock.
“What’s your plan, Miss Grey?” he asked. “You’ve lured me to your boudoir like the naughtiest courtesan. Are you hoping to have your wicked way with me?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would I oblige you? I’m simply an innocent young sailor.”
“You liar. You’re a rutting dog, and you’ve been lusting after me from the moment we met.”
“You could be right about that.”
“It’s a common fact that men can’t control their desires. It’s physically impossible, and I would hate to have you injure yourself by panting after me, so I’ve decided to have mercy on you.”
“Are we about to engage in a flirtation?”
“Yes, we are.”
He grinned a grin she felt clear down to her toes, then he pulled her into his arms—as she’d been wishing he would—and she was dreadfully glad he’d thought to lock the door.
“Sit down.”
Samson glared at Gregory, watching as his son slunk to the nearest chair. It was early evening, the house quiet, with guests dressing for supper.
Samson, himself, had been trying to get ready, but he was so irate that he couldn’t focus on the elemental task. Finally, he’d given up and had summoned Gregory to his bedchamber.
He could smell a strong odor of alcohol emanating from Gregory’s person, and his beleaguered condition highlighted the urgency of Caroline’s complaints.
“What is it, Father?” Gregory asked. “From your dour expression, it appears I’m about to be scolded for another infraction, but I’m not in the mood for any of your nagging.”
“Don’t be insolent.”
“I’m thirty years old and about to become a husband. I can’t abide your incessant lectures. What reason is there to visit Grey’s Corner? I should stay in town and not bother making these futile trips to the country.”
“Have you seen Caroline today?” he asked.
“Yes. She and I had that idiotic appointment with the vicar and his wife, so I spent two hours with her.”
“How did she seem to you?”
“She was peculiar as a bird with a broken wing. She’d badgered me about the meeting, so I dragged myself to it, but it was the most awkward encounter ever. She was sullen and morose, almost as if she was in a trance.”
“Was she rude to them?”
“Not rude precisely. She simply acted as if she was a stranger who had no connection to the discussion.” Gregory bristled with annoyance. “Just to warn you, they were bewildered by her behavior and even a tad insulted. You’ll likely have to mend that fence.”
“We have bigger fish to fry than the vicar’s hurt feelings.”
“What could be bigger than that? Those religious types can be a massive pain in the ass when they’ve been slighted.”
“Tell me about you and Mrs. Starling,” Samson said, deftly switching to the only subject that mattered. “I realize you’re involved with her, but are you openly cohabitating?”
Gregory’s cheeks heated. “Have I mentioned that I’m thirty? Have I mentioned that these lectures have to stop?”
Samson’s temper flared. “As you conveyed her to Grey’s Corner, had it occurred to you that there might be people in the manor who would find that invitation to be very shocking?”
“Who would find it shocking?” Gregory inquired like a dunce.
“Your fiancée, for starters.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh! Your liaison with Mrs. Starling has been exposed, and Caroline is incredibly enraged.”
“My life in London doesn’t have anything to do with my life at Grey’s Corner. It’s really none of Caroline’s business, is it?”
“That’s exactly what I told her, but unfortunately for you, she would beg to disagree.”
Gregory scowled. “Meaning what?”
“First off, she is demanding Mrs. Starling vacate the premises.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I enjoy having Lucretia here.”
“I am demanding it too,” Samson added. “I recognize that you’re entitled to pick your friends, and I’m to have no opinion about them, but this is the limit of what I can tolerate. She’ll depart in the morning—the minute she’s eaten her breakfast.”
“I don’t believe she’ll go quietly.” Gregory smirked. “Would you like to be the one to order her out?”
“I would be glad to speak to her the instant this conversation is over.”
Gregory sighed as if Samson was a great burden. “I’ll handle it, but I must point out that you’re being absurd. Caroline too.”
“Is that what you imagine? She and I are being absurd?”
&nbs
p; “Yes. She isn’t even my wife yet, and she’s whining like a shrew.”
“She’s called off the wedding,” Samson bluntly announced.
Gregory blanched with astonishment. “What?”
“She doesn’t want to marry you!” Samson uttered each word slowly, as if clarifying for an imbecile. “She’s changed her mind!”
“Why would she? It’s deranged thinking.”
“It’s recently dawned on her that you are a foul choice for a spouse. You’re a gambler and drunkard, and you have a doxy to whom you are devoted. Evidently, you’re very stupid too. You brought that trollop home with you, and someone tattled.”
“Caroline is such a little mouse,” Gregory said, “and she and I have always been cordial. At this late date, why would she be chafing over any of my failings?”
“That scoundrel, Caleb Ralston, has been gossiping with her.”
“Ralston is a chum. He wouldn’t have betrayed me.”
“Caleb Ralston wouldn’t have?” Samson shook his head, feeling disgusted and even a bit afraid. “How much money do you owe him? How many promissory notes have you signed?”
“The amount is a pittance. Don’t worry about it. I’m certainly not concerned.”
“He has to go in the morning too,” Samson said. “You can tell him after you’ve finished informing Mrs. Starling.”
“Could we forget about Ralston and focus on Caroline. I hope you told her she couldn’t cry off.”
“I told her I won’t permit it, and she told me to stuff it.”
“You’re her guardian, and you contracted the match. It’s not up to her who she weds. It’s up to you. Her opinion is irrelevant.”
Samson laughed a nasty laugh. “I’ll let you explain that to her. I’m sure she’ll be happy to listen.”
“She can’t walk away. We have to secure the trust fund.”
“You think I don’t understand that fact? I’m the one who’s pushed you to cease your delays. I’m the one who harangued and begged while you loafed and claimed you were having too much fun as a bachelor and weren’t ready to tie the knot.”
“I wasn’t ready,” Gregory insisted. “We can’t allow her to defy us like this.”
“Then I suggest you rein in your pompous attitude and haul your ass up to her bedchamber where you will tender a thousand apologies. You will swear to her that you’re parting with Mrs. Starling, that you’ll curb your drinking, and that your gambling days are behind you. You’d better sound sincere or you’ll never convince her.”
“You know, Father, if she refuses to proceed, any court in the land would deem it a symptom of female hysteria. We could have her declared insane, and we could lock her in an asylum and never release her. If we committed her to Bedlam, we could do whatever we like with the money. We wouldn’t have to fret about it.”
Samson gaped at him as if he were a lunatic himself. “Lock Caroline in an asylum?”
“Why not consider it? It would solve so many problems.”
Samson studied his son, wondering how he could have sired such an idiot. What kind of fiend would behave so egregiously toward his betrothed and cousin?
“Get out of here,” he muttered. Gregory didn’t move, and Samson shouted, “Get out!”
“I didn’t mean to anger you. I was just throwing out ideas.”
“When I next stumble on you, I expect to hear that Mrs. Starling and Mr. Ralston are departing and that you’ve fixed matters with Caroline.”
“I’ll begin working on both situations right away, but you’re an optimist if you suppose I’ll have much success with Caroline. She can really climb on a high-horse sometimes.”
“Then you had best yank her off it, hadn’t you?”
Gregory still hadn’t moved, and Samson grabbed him by his coat, pulled him from his chair, and dragged him across the floor to the door. He jerked it open and flung the oaf into the hall, startling a footman who was strolling by and was nearly knocked down.
“Pardon me,” Gregory said to the footman, as he straightened and tried to look as if he hadn’t been tossed out bodily.
Samson glared at them, then slammed the door as hard as he could.
“The thing of it is. . . is. . .”
Gregory’s cheeks flushed such a bright shade of red that Lucretia was surprised he didn’t ignite. They were in her bedroom, and he’d blustered in just as she’d finished dressing to head down to supper. He was disheveled and distraught.
“Spit it out, darling,” she said. “It can’t be all that bad.”
She had wine on the dresser. He poured himself a glass, then spun toward her.
“It appears Caroline has learned of our affair.”
Lucretia’s mind whirred as to what her reply should be. She settled on, “We aren’t having an affair, Gregory. Our bond runs much deeper than that. Don’t debase it by using feathery terminology.”
“This is not the moment to play semantic games with me, Lucretia. Caroline knows we’re involved, and she’s furious. She’s. . . ah. . . demanding you vacate the premises.”
“What? When? Right this very minute? After we dine, it will be dark. Am I to scurry away when night is falling?”
“No, no, you may leave in the morning.”
“May I hope you told her to sod off?”
“I haven’t talked to her, but my father is demanding this too.”
“Why?”
“She’s insisting she’ll call off the wedding due to my having a paramour.” He chuckled, as if a bit of levity would lighten the discussion. “If it’s any consolation, Ralston has to leave too. Caroline has been gossiping with him, and my father is incensed about it. Perhaps the two of you can ride to town together.”
“If that was your attempt to make a joke, it wasn’t funny.”
She stomped over to him, took the glass, and downed the contents. Then she smacked the goblet down on the dresser so forcefully that he flinched.
“Will you allow her to command you?” she said. “She’s not even your wife yet, and she’s issuing orders she expects you to obey. If you submit to her in this, what else will she expect? You have to stand up to her.”
“I won’t fight with her. I just want to get the wedding behind me. It’s easier for all concerned if you’d oblige me without any quarreling.”
“You asked me not to raise a fuss about your marriage, and I haven’t. In exchange, you promised I could come as a guest.”
“It was probably a stupid idea.”
She was amazed she didn’t slap him. “Having me here was stupid?”
“I simply mean that we’ve thrown our liaison in her face, and it’s blown up into a huge dilemma. I need a few days to calm her down.”
“Without me by your side.”
“Yes, without you. Please don’t be difficult.”
“I can’t believe you’d treat me this way.”
“I’m not disrespecting you. I’m giving you a chance to help me save my marriage, which will protect my income. If you wish to retain our elevated style of living, you have to agree.”
She seized the lapels of his coat and shook him. “Swear to me that you will return to London when this is over. Swear that we’ll continue on as we always have and you’re not about to toss me over.”
He gaped at her as if she were deranged. “Toss you over? What a ludicrous comment. I’ve asked you to assist me with a vital task. I haven’t uttered a word about separating from you.”
“Yes, well, Caroline snapped her fingers, and you instantly jumped to comply. How can I be sure she won’t hurl other demands after I’ve walked out the door?”
He rested his palms on her shoulders. “I swear to you, Lucretia, that nothing has changed and nothing will. Now tell me you’ll aid me as I’ve requested. The entire afternoon has been dreadful, what with my father nagging and Ca
roline proving herself to be stark raving mad. I can’t bear to fight with you too.”
“Fine,” she said, reining in her temper. “I shall trust you, but I vow—if you’ve lied and you try to cut me loose later on—I will track you down and castrate you in your sleep.”
He smiled. “That’s my Lucretia. Let’s go down to supper, shall we? Are you ready?”
“Not quite. I’ll have to join you shortly.”
“I should find Caroline and beg her pardon,” he said.
“Should you accost her before the meal?”
“I can hardly wait until after it. She’d be glowering at me while people were eating. They’d notice her fit of pique, and I would hate to have to explain it.”
“We should convene prior to our dining. I’ll be anxious to hear that you’ve resolved it with her to our satisfaction.”
“It will be resolved,” he said. “I have the perfect method for dealing with her.”
“What is it?”
“Her signature on the marriage license, of course. If she thinks she can refuse, I have another trick up my sleeve that will persuade her.”
He winked, as if he had numerous schemes fomenting, then he strolled out. Lucretia listened as his strides faded, then she studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked rich, glamorous, and sophisticated, and it was the image she always projected.
She was seething over Caroline’s audacity. Gregory had blithely consented to send Lucretia away without even arguing over it. While currently, Gregory was acting very tough, Lucretia doubted he’d remain firm. If she wasn’t vigilant, she might suddenly be set aside, but that wasn’t about to happen.
Caroline Grey assumed she held all the cards. She assumed she could command Lucretia and get away with it. How did Lucretia feel about that fact? She never let anyone boss her. Would she meekly acquiesce to Caroline’s edicts?
She snorted with derision. She’d leave in the morning, but before she departed, she would clarify a few pertinent issues for Miss Caroline Grey. Caroline had inflicted her opinions on Lucretia, and Lucretia was happy to return the favor.
Caroline was walking down the hall toward her bedchamber, wondering if she should visit the kitchen to check on how the supper preparations were progressing. It was her usual sort of chore, and she should have seen to it, but she couldn’t force herself down the stairs.
