by Cheryl Holt
The past week had been a riot of emotional turmoil, and she wasn’t sure of the direction they were headed. He was still engaged and Annabel couldn’t change his mind, and even if she could she wasn’t certain she’d be eager to wed him herself.
He was too bossy, too overbearing, and whenever they were together they quarreled in furious ways. Then again, a mistress of her father’s had once told her that strident passion indicated extreme amour. They likely fought so much because they were wild for each other.
“Your cousin will bring him back, won’t he?”
“Yes, he’ll be back.”
“I hope you won’t be offended, but I have to be nervous over your family’s intentions.”
“Soloman would love to have Caleb safe at home. I am the person you should worry about. I am the person who will wind up losing all I expected to receive.”
“Are you an honorable man, Captain?”
“There’s a question for the ages, Annabel. Am I honorable?”
“You wouldn’t hurt a child.”
“I like to presume I wouldn’t. I’m trying to be fair and impartial.”
“Do you believe he’s Caleb Grey?”
“You’ll have to learn my opinion when everybody else does.”
“Why? I’m closer to you than anyone has ever been, and I know you better than anyone ever has. Tell me.”
They were both a tad startled by her confident remark, and she was surprised she’d uttered it. Were they close? Yes, definitely, but she was positive the feelings of intimacy were generated on her end, not his.
She couldn’t abide how he was watching her, like a hawk circling its prey. She stepped away and said, “How about if we have a whiskey while we wait for them?”
But he clasped her wrist and pulled her to him. He lifted her off the floor so she was pressed to the wood of the door. He wedged himself between her legs, her skirt rucked up so she was balanced on his thighs, and he dipped down to nibble at her nape.
“Take me up to your bedchamber,” he murmured, sending shivers down her spine.
“No.”
“You’d like to. Admit it.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“It’s occurred to me that you and I will have scant chances to dally in the future. We should seize this one while we can.”
“I just want to wait for your cousin then I want you to go.”
“You’re aware that—when you say ridiculous things—I don’t listen to you.”
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
“We have a whole hour to ourselves. Perhaps longer if they stay away as I’m hoping.”
He dipped lower, nuzzling the tops of her breasts. She was so pitifully attracted to him, and since he’d shown her how glorious sexual relations could be her entire body was begging her to proceed.
She might have relented, but she was saved from herself when a fist pounded on the door. They froze then the pounding happened again.
“It has to be the man from the newspaper,” Benjamin said. “The stupid oaf has no manners. Maybe I should teach him some.”
He eased her away then patted his hair and clothes, straightening them so he looked presentable. He stomped out, and while she couldn’t hear the exact words they exchanged the encounter was difficult for the reporter. There was some loud thumping and a crash, and she hurried to the window and peeked out the curtain to see the Captain had picked up the man and pitched him into the street.
The dolt scampered off, and Benjamin observed until he disappeared then he sauntered back to the house. By the time he entered again, she was in the parlor and had poured him a whiskey.
He marched in as if he owned the place, took the glass from her and downed the contents while she sidled away to stand behind the sofa, using it as a barrier between them.
She could tell he’d like to round the sofa and pull her into his arms, but they sensed the moment for romance had passed.
“I hate how you’re staring at me,” he said, “and I haven’t yet learned to read your mind. What are you thinking?”
“I think I have loved knowing you. You made me happy.”
“I made you happy,” he scoffed. “That certainly sounds like the past tense.”
“I wish you were someone else.”
“Really? I always thought you liked me quite a bit just the way I was.”
“I simply meant that I wish you could have been mine.”
“I could have been yours,” he countered, “but you didn’t care for the terms.”
“I wanted all of you.”
“And I couldn’t give you all.”
“You could have cried off,” she said even though she recognized—in his world—it wasn’t allowed. “If you fancied me as much as you claim, you could have.”
“No, I couldn’t, Annabel.”
He seemed genuinely sad about it, and she steeled herself not to succumb to any remorse. She wouldn’t feel sorry for him, wouldn’t offer any concessions.
“You’ll be miserable with her,” she said.
“I’m sure I will be.”
“She doesn’t deserve you.”
“I’m not sure if that’s true. I might be exactly what she deserves.”
“Will you ever kick yourself for not picking me instead? Will you ever glare at her across the breakfast table and realize, I could have had Annabel?”
“I’ll ponder it every day.”
The comment rattled her. It had her second-guessing again when she didn’t intend to ever second-guess.
He reached into his coat and drew out a piece of paper.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s my copy of the agreement I negotiated with your brother.”
“I tore up my copy,” she said.
“So this is the only remaining evidence that we had a deal. I’ve told you several times—not in the most poetic way—that I’d like you to honor it.”
“I can’t.”
“We could be together forever, Annabel. We could be so happy.”
“You assume we could be, but it would all be built on a lie. You’d be constantly betraying your wife, and you’d never be content in such a sordid arrangement. In the beginning, you might be glad but you’d quickly grow weary. You’d be stuck with me, and you’d start to regret your decision.”
“You’re probably correct.”
“Then where would I be?” she inquired. “I wouldn’t have you. I wouldn’t have anything.”
“Last chance,” he said, and he pointed to the contract.
“I can’t do it.”
“All right.”
He ripped it to pieces, and they fluttered to the floor. She watched them drop, thinking they were the pieces of her life, ripped to shreds by him.
“I have to be certain you grasp the consequences of what’s occurring,” he said.
“Meaning what?”
“If we accept him as Caleb, he won’t be a Boswell any longer. You will no longer be related to him by marriage.”
“I understand.” But these were ramifications she hadn’t fully contemplated.
“We’ll take him from you, Annabel. He’ll become Lord Lyndon, and he’ll be ours. Not yours. There will be a thousand reasons you won’t be allowed any contact with him.”
“I won’t consent to that.”
“It won’t be up to you. He won’t be permitted to wallow in the social circle where Mr. Boswell had enrolled him. He’ll attend the finest schools with boys from the premier families. He’ll be someone new, someone you don’t know.”
“He’ll always be my nephew.”
“In your heart maybe but not in the real world. You are sister to kidnapper, Lydia Fenwick Boswell. You are daughter to Cecil Fenwick, a notorious gambler and charlatan. You’ve had a passionate affair with me. That’s the most egregious sin for which you’ll have to pay.”
“I would never consider our friendship to be sinful, and you never would either so I have no idea why you’d say
that to me.”
“I will spend much of my life in his company. If Soloman returns to Egypt, all responsibility will fall to me. I will sit at my supper table with Caleb Grey—and with my wife.”
“Oh.”
“You can never be in my home after I am wed. I guess I wasn’t completely clear with you about the implications. I was eager to have another place, a private place where I could have seen you occasionally. But now?” He indicated the torn contract. “It’s truly over.”
“It had to be.” She smiled a tremulous smile. “And it never really started, did it? We don’t need to mourn what never was.”
“No, we don’t.”
It seemed too soon for goodbye, and suddenly there were too many things she wanted to tell him for it was obvious they hadn’t had nearly enough time together, but the door opened and her brother called, “Annabel! Are you here?”
She took a deep breath and held it, forcing herself to calm, to hide every bit of emotion that had to have been visible on her face.
“Yes, I’m here, Michael.”
“I got the message you sent me at Grey Manor. What the bloody hell is so urgent?”
He strutted into the parlor, and when he noticed Benjamin Grey he stumbled to a halt.
“Captain Grey,” he said, “this is beginning to be a habit. Have you convinced her to proceed with the arrangement after all?”
“No. She’s not interested so she’s a habit I have to break.”
“He’s about to marry,” Annabel churlishly said. “You’re aware of my opinion about it.”
“Yes, yes.” Michael waved away her remark. “You won’t be the other woman.”
“Why would any woman agree to be?” Annabel asked. “I’ve never understood that.”
Michael turned to Benjamin, his scrutiny so intense that she was alarmed.
“How is your fiancée, Captain?” he asked.
“She’s fine.”
“Is she?” Michael scoffed. “You ought to talk to Wesley more often.”
“Whenever you mention her,” the Captain said, “it makes me very nervous, but as your sister is present and I have been inordinately fond of her, I won’t hurt her by pursuing this discussion with you.”
“Aren’t you an angel of mercy?” Michael sarcastically muttered.
“I believe that’s my cue to depart.” The Captain shook his head with disgust then he spoke to Annabel. “I’ll wait for them outside.”
“Are you sure, Captain? It’s cold, and it may rain.”
“I won’t melt.”
He assessed her, his gaze warm and affectionate, and she let it roam over her. She drank it in, recognizing that—very likely—no man would ever look at her in quite that way ever again. As if she was amazing. As if she was extraordinary.
“Goodbye, Annabel,” he murmured.
“Goodbye,” she murmured in reply.
“It’s been grand.”
“Yes, it has, Captain.”
“And just so you know,” he added, “I think he’s Caleb, and I’m betting my cousin will think so too.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“So you should brace yourself. A tidal wave of unbearable attention is about to wash over you, and I won’t be able to deflect it or help you. Be ready.”
Then he left.
She and her brother were frozen in place, and once they were certain he was gone, Michael said, “I can’t abide him.”
“I don’t care to listen to your views on the subject, Michael. Not now. Not today.”
“What was he doing here anyway? If you don’t want to have an amour with him, we don’t need him sniffing after you all the time.”
“It’s a long story,” Annabel claimed.
“He’s tossing you over for Veronica? Really, Annabel, your pride should be totally shredded.”
“He has to wed, but it could never have been to me.”
“I don’t see why not. Your blood’s as high as his. Actually, it’s higher, isn’t it?”
“He would never think so.”
Michael walked over and poured himself a whiskey, and he studied her. “Dear sister, I’ve never witnessed you so glum. Has your heart finally been broken?”
“I expect it has been.”
She sighed and picked up the pieces of the contract Benjamin had torn, and like a lovesick girl she stuffed them in her pocket. She thought she might keep them as a memento of what might have been.
“You might still win him,” Michael said.
“Don’t tease me, Michael. I’m not in the mood.”
“Who’s teasing? After he has a chat with Wesley, we’ll discover if he’s marrying Veronica or not. He may be a bachelor again very soon. You can be first in line to snatch him up after he’s finished with her.”
She scowled. “What have you done?”
“Nothing too bad. Just remember that I pressed ahead for you so you could have him fair and square.”
“Do you need to leave town? Should I send you into hiding?”
“Not yet.”
“Good, because I need you here. I need you standing by my side.”
“Why? Your message sounded very dire. What have I missed?”
Annabel slumped down onto the sofa. “You always insisted Lydia was insane.”
“Yes, I was positive she was. You were never completely convinced though.”
“Well, you were right and I was wrong.” She patted the spot next to her. “Sit with me and let me tell you what’s happened. You will not believe it.”
“Is it Lydia?”
“Yes.”
“I absolutely will believe it. I will believe every word.”
HANK YOU FOR SEEING me, Mr. Boswell.”
“This is quite a surprise, Mrs. Grey. How may I help you?”
Millicent stared at Edward Boswell. They were in his office, with him seated behind a grand desk. She’d been seated in the chair across, and it was hard and uncomfortable, as if he didn’t like visitors to stay for long. And she didn’t plan to stay.
She planned to speak her piece then go but only after being assured he would do as she requested which was to pluck his grandson out of their lives before he could harm Benjamin.
He’d forbidden her from involving herself in this latest disaster, but she wasn’t about to remain silent. She’d waited three whole decades to be an earl’s mother, and she intended to be an earl’s mother. She wouldn’t let a conniving doxy snatch it away at the last second.
“My family is in the middle of an enormous quandary,” she told him, “so I’ll come straight to the point.”
“Please do.”
“You’re aware of the difficulty we suffered when the Lyndon heir vanished.”
“I dare say all of London recalls it.”
“Yesterday, a boy appeared out of the blue, and he’s pretending to be Caleb Grey.”
Mr. Boswell paused, carefully weighing his replies. Ultimately, he responded with, “I’m guessing this is a distressing development for you.”
“It’s extremely distressing. Over the years, we’ve had hundreds of charlatans claiming they’d brought him back to us.”
“I can see why it would be upsetting, but what has it to do with me?”
“You have a grandson.”
“I have been blessed with many children so I have many grandsons. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“His name is Harry.”
On hearing the name, he blanched. “Yes, Harry is one of them.”
“You seem startled to have me mention him.”
“I recently received letters—from his school and his mother—that he’d run away. Again.” His cheeks flushed with chagrin. “It’s not unusual behavior for him. He’s always been disobedient.”
“I know where he is.”
Boswell scowled. “Where?”
“He’s in London with his aunt, Annabel Fenwick, who is insisting he is Caleb Grey.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Fury washed over him. “Tell me you’re joking, Mrs. Grey.”
“I’m not joking, sir. This woman—this Miss Fenwick—has finagled herself into a friendship with my son, Benjamin, to where she has him wrapped around her little finger.”
“Annabel is very beautiful.”
“Yes, she is so you can understand why he’s been enticed.”
He nodded. “I can.”
“Once she had him seduced, she magically arrived with your grandson and declared him to be Caleb Grey.”
“I can’t believe it!” he muttered. Then he shook his head. “No, I take that back. I absolutely can believe it. She is cunning and devious, and I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
“What is her circumstance, Mr. Boswell? What is her ancestry? I’ve tried to make Benjamin disavow her, but he won’t. I need details I can use to discredit her.”
“Oh, Mrs. Grey, I am loath to confess my connection to her. My son, Milton, wed her sister, Lydia, without my blessing or permission. The marriage allied me with the Fenwicks—very much against my will I must add. It is a shame and disgrace that plagues me to this day.”
“I am assuming Miss Fenwick is a trollop.”
“Very much so,” Boswell agreed.
“What else should I know about her? Is she a cheat? Is she a liar? Would she perpetrate a hoax of this magnitude? Is she smart enough to pull it off?”
“Yes, to all of your questions.” He fumed for a bit then said, “I trust I can count on your discretion, Mrs. Grey.”
“Of course, Mr. Boswell.”
“Our closest friends have been apprised of our troubled alliance with the Fenwicks, but I wouldn’t want the news to spread beyond our small circle.”
“I swear I won’t breathe a word.”
“Annabel’s father was a renowned charlatan and libertine. He sired bastards all over the kingdom. He gambled and swindled and was in and out of debtor’s prison. He was killed in a duel—over a married lady!”
She huffed with indignant commiseration. “You poor man.”
“Annabel inherited all of his worst traits. Her brother, Michael, is even worse. They’re a pair of handsome, conniving degenerates who would engage in any scam.”
