Someone to Cherish

by Cheryl Holt

  “What’s happened?” Caroline asked. “Don’t tell me it’s more bad news.”

  “It’s from my attorney. He spoke to a banker about my allowance, and the account has been closed. The money was withdrawn yesterday.”

  “All of it?”

  “Yes. There’s not a single farthing remaining.”

  “Who removed it?”

  “The banker wouldn’t say, but it had to be Father. He’s trying to punish me and force me home.”

  “So. . . you’re out of money, and I never had any in the first place. How much rent have you paid on this apartment? How long can we stay in it?”

  “Two more weeks. Two weeks, and then, we’ll be out on the street.”

  “Unless you can convince Blake to marry you. Or we could go to Grey’s Corner.”

  Janet cringed. “I would be more likely to fly to the moon than to have either of those things occur.”

  “Where could she be?”

  Caleb peered out the window, but no matter how fervidly he stared, he never saw Caro returning. It was dark outside, and she was out in the city alone, with no friends to assist her. Any mishap could befall her, and if she wound up imperiled, he might strangle Blake.

  It had taken several hours for them to realize she was missing. After Caleb had quarreled with her, he’d assumed she was fuming in her bedchamber. He hadn’t been overly keen to re-ignite their spat, so he’d waited for her to calm down and come downstairs, but she hadn’t.

  Finally, when supper had been served, he’d had a housemaid check on her, only to discover she wasn’t there. Apparently, she’d crept away while no one was watching.

  She’d shucked off the gown Sybil had provided to her, and instead, she’d donned the tattered garment she’d been wearing when she’d stumbled into his gambling club. He comprehended her message: She didn’t want anything from him. Not even a loaned dress.

  He whirled on Blake. His brother was over on the sofa, looking maltreated and a tad gallant, as if he was a scuffed hero in a theatrical drama. The skin under his eyes was black and blue, and he had a chunk of ice wrapped in a cloth. He was pressing it to his swollen nose.

  “She’s vanished, probably for good,” Caleb said to him. “Are you happy now?”

  “Don’t blame me for your stupid bet with Gregory Grey.”

  “I don’t blame you for that. I blame you for talking about it as Caroline was lurking down the hall.”

  “How was I supposed to know she was eavesdropping? The bloody woman had some nerve, sneaking up on us like that.”

  “I swear, if you utter one more idiotic comment about her, I’ll bash out a few of your teeth too.”

  Blake scoffed. “Someday, I’ll learn how to fight dirty, so you won’t be able to pummel me anymore.”

  “Keep hope alive, Blake.”

  They’d often resolved their differences with fisticuffs, but Caleb always won any skirmish. Blake never thought he was in the wrong, so he was never prepared for Caleb to lash out. Blake was like a stubborn mule, and he wouldn’t pay attention unless he was whacked right between the eyes.

  “I can’t imagine how you’ll ever persuade her to forgive you,” Blake said.

  “I can’t either.”

  “I’m sorry about all of this. I like Miss Grey, and I hate that I upset her. I apologize to you too. I was trying to make a joke, but I guess it wasn’t funny.”

  “That is the understatement of the century.”

  Blake mumbled into his pack of ice, “I might know where she is.”

  “You might know? You’ve been sitting there like a bump on a log, and it didn’t dawn on you that I might like to hear your theory?”

  “I wasn’t sure if I should confess it or not.”

  Caleb walked over, yanked the ice away, and tossed it on the floor. “Where is it you presume she might be? And don’t you dare lie to me!”

  “Her cousin, Janet, ran away from Grey’s Corner, and at breakfast, I might have mentioned to Miss Grey where Janet is living. I wrote down the directions, so she likely went there. Wouldn’t she have?”

  Caleb’s temper flared. “How would you just happen to be cognizant of where Janet Grey is living?”

  “Well, I might have helped her move to town.”

  Caleb’s rage bubbled so hotly he was surprised the top of his head didn’t blow off. “Why, pray tell, would you have involved yourself?”

  “You remember that I was flirting with her in the country, and she’s very fond of me. As I was leaving, she might have begged to come along.”

  “Why would you have listened to her?”

  “She can be very adamant.”

  “She’s an unmarried maiden, Blake! Do you understand the ramifications that may be approaching? You’ll be lucky if her father doesn’t show up to escort you to the altar, and he will have a very big gun pointed at your backside.”

  “Nobody knows about us.”

  “Famous last words.” Caleb bristled. “Have you ruined her?”

  “No, no, we’re just friends,” Blake insisted much too hastily. “I was worried about her being in the city all alone, so I assisted her. That’s it.”

  Blake struggled valiantly to hold Caleb’s gaze, but he was so bad at prevarication. It was why his mischief constantly unraveled.

  “Might she be increasing?” Caleb asked.

  Blake blanched—as if the notion had never occurred to him. He’d trifled with paramours in the past, but Caleb had demanded he pick loose doxies who were adept in the bedchamber. He wasn’t to ever choose reputable women where he might be ensnared by a carnal calamity.

  What was he thinking? He was scheduled to return to his post in another week. Would they be having a quick wedding before he sailed?

  “She’s not increasing,” Blake said, but he gulped with dismay.

  “You’re not God, so how can you be certain? If she is, the navy won’t let you slink away like the cur you are. Nor will I. If you refuse to step up, they’ll drum you out of the service, and after the trouble I suffered to keep you in it, I’m not about to have you destroy your career over a female.”

  “You’re making too much of this.”

  “In my view, I’m not making nearly enough. You’re about to put a ring on her finger. Are you ready to be a husband? Why am I convinced that the answer to that question is a resounding no?”

  “She’d never agree to wed me,” Blake blithely stated, “despite how you nag.”

  “Oh, really?” Caleb snidely inquired. “Why is that?”

  “She’s a radical intellectual who plans to carry on outside the bounds of normal society. She reads books by those blue-stocking spinsters, and she believes marriage is a trap. She’d never allow herself to be caught in it.”

  Caleb gaped at his brother, then he laughed miserably. “If that’s what you suppose, then you’re even more of a dunce than I realized.”

  “She’s very firm in her attitudes.”

  “A woman doesn’t get to decide. A woman can’t fornicate until she spits out a bastard. It’s a crime, Blake. Her opinion is irrelevant, and I’m predicting, when her belly swells, and she’s faced with the shame of being an unwed mother, she won’t be quite so opposed to matrimony.”

  Blake scowled. “You expect she’d change her mind? If that’s what you imagine, you’re deranged.”

  “She can’t behave this way, and you can’t either. You’d best prepare yourself, for I’m mortally afraid you’re about to be a husband—whether you like it or not.”

  Caroline was in bed when there was a knock on the door. It was very late, and she and Janet were snuggled on Janet’s bed, but Janet wasn’t roused by the noise. She’d expended so much energy weeping and fretting that she was worn out.

  Caroline slipped off the mattress and tiptoed to the front room as Blake Ralston murmured
, “Janet, are you in there?” There was a pause, then he said, “Janet! I have to talk to you. Open up.”

  Caroline bit down on all the caustic remarks that were yearning to spill out. She was attired in one of Janet’s nightgowns, so she wasn’t dressed, but that wasn’t the reason she didn’t respond.

  He could converse with them in the light of day, and she was in no mood to argue about it. She would muster the courage to confer with Caleb or with officials at the navy. She would have Janet wed to the bounder shortly, but she wouldn’t debate the issue with him in the middle of the night.

  A pair of footsteps pounded up the stairs, and her pulse raced as Caleb said, “Is she there?”

  “No one’s answering,” Blake replied. “They’re probably asleep or they might have departed.”

  Caleb wasn’t as reticent as Blake about being too loud. He banged on the wood very hard and called, “Caroline! I know you’re in there. Open the bloody door!”

  She steadied her breathing so she didn’t march out and punch him in the nose. As with Blake harassing Janet, she was in no mood to bicker with Caleb, and she wouldn’t let the brothers in. They’d caused enough trouble for ten lifetimes, and she was so furious she was practically dizzy with offense.

  Caleb knocked more vehemently. “I can feel you hovering, so it’s clear you’re listening to me. Stop being ridiculous. I’m here to take you home.”

  A neighbor’s patience must have been exhausted. From down the hall, a man hissed, “Do you mind? Some of us have to work in the morning!”

  Blake mumbled, “Sorry.”

  The brothers whispered heatedly, then they crept away.

  She waited until it was silent again, then she walked to the window and peeked down into the street, watching as they climbed into their carriage and drove away.

  She received some solace from Caleb’s arrival. She told herself to be glad about it. It was an indication that he regretted their quarrel, so they would likely be able to resolve their differences, but it wouldn’t transpire right away.

  She was still in love with him, and they needed to wed—it was the only proper outcome—but she would have to extract some guarantees prior to it occurring. He would have to clean up his wicked ways and become a better man. He couldn’t continue to wallow in the gutter with fiends. Not if he wanted her to be his bride.

  He would have to make some promises, and she would have to believe he would keep them.

  Their carriage vanished around a corner, and she went back to bed. As she crawled under the blankets, Janet stirred and asked, “Why are you up?”

  “I’m anxious, and I couldn’t rest, but I’m fine now. Go to sleep.”

  Janet was so fatigued that she complied immediately. Caroline stared at the ceiling, wondering what would happen next. She couldn’t imagine a good ending for them. Not with the Ralston brothers being the ones who would have to supply a viable conclusion.

  It would be a very long night.

  Caroline stood in front of the theater where Libby Carstairs was supposed to be performing. There was a poster by the door that listed the actors in the current show, but Libby wasn’t on it.

  The news was inordinately depressing, and it exacerbated Caroline’s perception of being adrift. By her finding Janet, she should have shucked off her sense of gloom and dread, but they’d been worsened by her cousin’s insane attachment to Blake Ralston.

  When Caroline had been out of the apartment, the dashing scoundrel had visited Janet. He’d sweet-talked her until she didn’t know up from down. She was merrily eager to delay awhile in order to discover if she was increasing.

  Blake had spewed a few magic words, and she’d lost her ability to judge her predicament with a jaundiced eye. If she was with child, and Blake sailed away, what was her plan? It wasn’t as if they could cast a spell and force him to reappear in England.

  In the meantime, Blake was packing his bags and, like the most despicable cad, he was preparing to flee the country. Janet had forbidden Caroline to speak with Caleb or the navy, and apparently, Janet would engage in any deranged behavior if she thought it would make him happy.

  Janet had told Blake about her father emptying her bank account, and the dastardly cur had given her money sufficient to pay six months of rent. With the funds stuffed in a drawer, she’d persuaded herself that she was no longer in a dicey situation, so she didn’t need to do anything about Blake.

  Caroline couldn’t convince her otherwise. Despite Janet’s plea that Caroline remain silent about Blake, she should have tattled to Caleb, but she hadn’t seen him. Blake had instructed Caleb—at Janet’s urging—to leave Caroline alone, that she would contact him if and when she felt like discussing their issues.

  He’d heeded Caroline’s request, and she was relieved that he’d stayed away, but she was incensed too. Why hadn’t he ignored her edict? Could he be so easily dissuaded? His lack of interest had her suspecting he didn’t really care if they wed or not.

  His proposal had been voiced in the heat of passion, so maybe he hadn’t been that serious about it. Maybe he hadn’t actually intended to proceed. If that was the case, she’d certainly helped him achieve his goal when she’d stomped off in a huff.

  As she’d learned from how Blake had treated Janet, the Ralston brothers weren’t the marrying kind. No, they would have to be dragged to the altar, her problem being that she had no idea how to accomplish it.

  Ooh, how she wished her father were still alive! If he’d been present, she’d already be a bride, and she wouldn’t be standing on a busy street and worrying about the future. Her father would have settled it for her.

  The entire mess had left her too exasperated to think straight, and she simply wanted to connect with Libby once more. For a few delicious minutes, she wanted to focus on someone other than herself and her myriad of difficulties.

  She rattled the theater door, but it was the middle of the afternoon and there was no matinee scheduled, so it was locked. She knocked, her ear pressed to the wood to hear footsteps inside, but the place appeared to be deserted.

  She dawdled, debating her next move when a man walked up. He was neatly dressed in a brown suit and wearing a bowler hat and spectacles, so he might have been a lawyer or a banker.

  “Did you knock?” he asked her. “Is anyone here?”

  “They don’t seem to be.”

  “They usually arrive later in the day, but occasionally, there are people in this early. We could walk to the alley. The rear entrance is nearly always unlocked.”

  She pondered, then sighed. “I shouldn’t bother anybody. I was looking for one of the actresses, but I’m not sure she’s even performing. Her name isn’t on the playbill.”

  “Who is the actress? I’m cordial with many of them.”

  “It’s Libby Carstairs. The Mystery Girl of the Caribbean? She’s so famous though. I likely wouldn’t have been allowed to speak with her.”

  “Miss Carstairs is very approachable, and she loves to chat with her admirers. She’d have been thrilled to meet you.”

  “I’m not an admirer. I’m an old friend. A very old friend. I haven’t seen her since we were little.”

  “Were you in a traveling troupe with her as she toured the country?”

  “It was nothing like that. I was. . . was. . .”

  She considered admitting her identity, but in the end, she didn’t mention it. No one ever believed she was a Mystery Girl too.

  “Never mind,” Caroline murmured. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “She’s not here anyway.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “She’s in the country. With Lord Barrett? They’re about to have a quick wedding. It’s the rumor that’s circulating.”

  Caroline scowled. “Libby is marrying?”

  “Yes, it’s why I stopped by—to pry out some comments from some of her
fellow actors. Since it’s been revealed that she’s Little Henrietta, the whole kingdom is enthralled by her all over again.”

  Caroline smiled, thinking Libby’s marrying was the prettiest news in ages, but it made her sad too. Why had they been yanked apart? Why couldn’t their families have permitted them to stay in touch over the years? What could it have hurt?

  That sort of rumination was pointless though. It merely left her angry over all that had been lost, and she never gained any ground in stabilizing the floundering ship that was her problematic life.

  He pulled a card from his coat and presented it to her with a flourish. “I write for the London Times.”

  “You’re a newspaper reporter? My, my, that must be a very fun job.”

  “I’m the one who figured out that Miss Carstairs is Henrietta. I penned all the important articles.”

  “This must be a very exciting period for you.”

  “It’s been very exciting.” He grinned. “I earned myself a hefty raise too.”

  She chuckled. “Good for you.”

  He bowed to her. “Howard Periwinkle.”

  “Caroline Grey.”

  “I’m delighted to. . .” His sentence trailed off, and he studied her strangely. “You are Caroline Grey? Little Caro?”

  “Ah. . . yes?”

  “I’ve been searching for you!”

  “Whatever for?”

  “It’s the twentieth anniversary of the shipwreck.”

  “Yes, it is. I’ve been reflecting on it quite a lot.”

  “So have I. So have our readers. Especially with Miss Carstairs being Henrietta. I’ve been hoping to schedule a reunion for the three of you.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea. I’d like it very much.”

  “I’ve already talked to Joanna James, and she’s agreed.”

  “You’ve talked to Joanna?” Caroline was surprised she didn’t faint.

  “We have to get Miss Carstairs to agree too. I would arrange it, and you’d simply have to show up.”