The tipping point for Callum had been when an enormous floral arrangement had arrived at the front door that morning as he was leaving the house. Eliza’s gushing words of ‘Oh, Randolph, you are such a treasure’ still rang hollow in Callum’s head.
He made his way to Windmill Street via Oxford street, then Poland Street. Oxford Street was one of his favorite places to walk. The almost endless selection of shops was a delight to the eyes. He passed the silversmith where he had purchased his hip flask, followed by the glass shop where he had recently bought a fancy new hand mirror for his mother.
Crossing Oxford Street, he smiled at the fruit shop with its window piled high with oranges, figs, grapes, and the obligatory fancy pineapple. He made a quick stop inside just as the shop was about to close and purchased a bag of apples, intending to give them to Kendal. His fellow Noble Lord had a penchant for fresh fruit.
Callum left the shop with a surprising spring in his step. There were still black clouds looming on the horizon of his life, but for the first time he felt he had the beginnings of a plan—a way to get through the next phase and come out the other side somewhat intact.
Now that he was no longer using opium and cannabis cigars, he found himself dealing with emotions he had long suppressed. There was a clarity in his mind he had not known for some time.
His brain might be clear, but he was still in a muddle as to what he should say to Eliza. There was so much he had held back from her since his return from war. And it wasn’t just that he now had an overwhelming need to apologize to her; it was that he must make amends.
Just start with saying you are sorry and then see what Eliza says. You have to get this right. Reid is going to hate me forever, but I need her in my life.
Reaching Follett House, he met Mister Green just inside the front door and handed him the apples. “Those are for Lord Grant. Do you know if Lady Eliza is in the dining room? I must talk to her before I head out.”
Eliza was normally still at supper this time of the day. She liked to take her time with her evening meal.
“I am afraid, Sir Callum, Lady Eliza has already left the house. She and Mister Ward have gone to an early supper, then I understand they are going on to tonight’s Noble Lords concert. Perhaps you could speak with her there? he replied.
Bloody hell. This was not part of my plan.
It was bad enough that Eliza had already left the house, and he had missed his chance to speak to her, but the fact that she was spending the evening in the company of Randolph Ward was enough to have his temper roaring to life. He smiled grimly, trying his best not to show his ire. “Did anyone else from the house accompany them to supper?” he asked.
If some of the other Noble Lords had gone with them then the situation might not be so dire. If they were dining out as a group, then Randolph wouldn’t get the chance to go whispering sweet nothings in Eliza’s ear.
“No. Just Mister Ward, Lord Follett approved it.”
I bet Reid did.
Callum headed to his room and shrugged out of his jacket. He stormed onto the balcony and stared out at the last of the evening sunset while he fought to bring his temper under control. He wasn’t used to feeling this level of . . . anything. Normally he would be reaching for a cigar, fully intending to light up and smoke it right to its head. Naked, raw emotion was hard to handle.
“Fuck.”
He would kill to take the sharp edge off his jealousy. And it was jealousy—there was not another word that could come close to how he was feeling right now. The violent possessiveness threatened to engulf him. To burn him up in all its rage.
Why Eliza was spending the evening with Randolph Ward he had no idea, but if she was trying to mess with his head, she was damn well succeeding.
He screwed his eyes shut, fighting to maintain control. A flicker of red hinted in the corner of his eye. A panic attack threatened. The memory of one of his nightmares from battle tried to slip its way into his mind, but Callum growled, “No.”
He imagined Eliza, pushing an image of her to the forefront of his thoughts and doing his utmost to keep it there. When the nightmare tried to regain ground, he focused harder on her face. That quirky smile of hers which always made him catch his breath finally had the painful memory moving away and disappearing.
The realization that he had won left him stunned. He had never tried to fight his demons before. Instead, he had run from them, had used alcohol and drugs to keep them at bay. The war within himself would continue, but for the first time he sensed he had scored a victory.
His demons, however, were strong; they knew his weaknesses better than him.
A raging thirst for gin attacked his defenses. He looked back at the bedroom door. There was nothing and no one to stop him from making his way to the dining room where a full bottle of whatever he wanted would be waiting.
The small voice of hope whispered in his brain.
The only person who is in control of your destiny is you. You do not have to continue to exist this way. You have a choice.
With the memory of the taste of alcohol searing into his brain, Callum leaned over the side of the balcony, his fingers gripping tight to the edge of the stonework. He was waging a battle with himself. Wild Callum was going up against an old contender he had not fought in a long time: the Callum who simply wanted to be happy. Wild Callum put up one hell of a fight, demanding and cajoling him to stop being a fool and go and have a drink.
She doesn’t want you. Right this minute she is out in public with a man who is good for her. A man who has money and power. If you love her, you should let her marry him. Then you can go and spend the rest of your days at the bottom of a bottle: exactly where you belong.
He let out a long slow breath. He had to fight the urge to drink, to try and regain control. He staggered over to the balcony chair and slumped into it; his head dropped to his hands.
It would be so easy just to cave to his hunger for the sweet relief of feeling nothing. To give in and let defeat finally own him.
But the Callum who so desperately wanted to find joy in his life was not done. Memories of Eliza slipped once more into his mind. Of the words she had spoken to him that night when they had first met on the balcony.
When you are ready to come back to me, I will be waiting.
He lifted his head and gave a determined nod. She might well be out with Randolph Ward, but he was not done with her. He had been a fool to try and push her away. He could only hope it was not too late to win her back.
You and I are not done, Eliza, not by a long shot.
A lifetime of battling his addictions lay ahead of him, but he was through with fighting his need for her. He got to his feet; a sense of purpose burned within.
He was ready to claim what had always been his: Eliza’s heart. And with her love, he would eventually find joy.
“I want to come home.”
At the party, Eliza was standing by the side of the dance floor as couples passed by. The music was a waltz set to a piece by Mozart. A wry grin sat on her lips. If Kendal arrived while the dancing was still in progress, she would press him for a waltz. It would be worth it just to watch his face as he moved to the tune of the composer he couldn’t stand.
Randolph Ward had disappeared a little while ago to get them both a glass of champagne. In the meantime, she had noted that several footmen had walked by bearing trays of drinks. When the second one drew close, she beckoned him over and took a glass.
Where are you, Randolph? We are supposed to be spending the evening together and making everyone think we are a couple in love.
With drink in hand, she went back to watching the merriment of dancing couples, slowly becoming more irritated by the minute at Randolph’s continued absence. How was she supposed to make Callum jealous if her fake paramour wasn’t even in the same room?
“I would never have picked you for being a wallflower,” said a deep, familiar voice.
Eliza turned, Callum was standing behind her. She stud
ied him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the sight which met her gaze. He was well turned out, his evening dress immaculate.
And so very handsome.
Callum’s flaxen hair had been neatly brushed back and lightly oiled. There was no trace of an evening shadow on his chin. Even the bruises from the bare-knuckled boxing match were beginning to fade.
Care and effort had been put into every inch of his clothing and appearance. Mister Green had obviously managed to press one of the other valet’s into Callum’s service.
“Callum?” she ventured.
He bowed low. “One and the same.”
“You are here early this evening. I didn’t think the Noble Lords were due to play until after eleven. Did you come with Reid?”
He leaned in close. “No. I came on my own. I wanted to speak to you.”
She caught the signature scent of sandalwood and tonka bean in his cologne and nothing else. The familiar hint of gin or whisky was not present on his breath. Could Callum actually be sober?
It was unlikely. Perhaps he had been drinking some other form of alcohol that did not leave a trace. But he did appear to be quite lucid and there was no sign of a slur in his speech.
He smiled knowingly. “While I am not stone-cold sober, I do have full control of my faculties. I have not had a drink for several hours.”
“That is encouraging,” she replied.
He glanced around, frowning. “Where is Ward? I thought you came with him.”
“I don’t know. He went to get us a drink some time ago and has not returned,” she replied.
Callum cleared his throat. “Now that is odd, because I could have sworn, I saw Ward talking to the Spanish ambassador when I arrived about fifteen minutes ago. He had a glass of whisky in his hand and looked well set in for a long, private discussion.”
Eliza handed her half-finished glass of champagne to a passing footman and offered Callum her arm. “Where?” she challenged.
Callum placed her arm in his and smiled. They moved quickly through the crowd and into another room, stopping a yard or so away from where Randolph and the Spanish ambassador stood. A nearly empty whisky glass was in Randolph’s hand.
“Obviously this is an important business contact. I am sure he didn’t mean to be delayed,” she said.
His family were heavily involved in banking both here in England and abroad. It would make sense for a man like Randolph to use a social occasion such as this to conduct matters of business.
The game is on. Time for you to play your part, Randolph. Please don’t let me down.
A warm hand settled in the small of her back and Callum drew close. She was about to ask him what he was doing, when he leaned in and murmured, “Watch and learn what your life would be if you decided to marry a banker.”
Randolph finished the last of the whisky in his glass and handed it to a nearby footman. Eliza caught his eye for a mere split second, swallowing deep when he picked up a second, full glass of drink before turning back to the Spanish ambassador and continuing with their conversation. His move of pretending not to have seen her was perfectly timed.
When she glanced up at Callum, she caught the hint of a self-satisfied grin on his lips. He was enjoying this moment. And so was she.
He turned and smiled at her. “We should join them.”
He pressed his hand more firmly on her back, and Eliza took a step forward. She was not normally one to stand being pushed around by an alpha male, but she was more than willing in this case. A thrill ran down her spine at Callum’s touch. He kept his hold on her until they were only a few feet away from Randolph and the ambassador, at which point he exclaimed, “Well, what a surprise!” and pushed Eliza in front of him.
Stepping into the role of annoyed partner, Eliza shot Randolph a look of great displeasure. He in turn gifted her with such a priceless look of complete ignorance that she could have kissed him.
Perfect. Callum is behaving like a lion whose territory is being threatened, and you look like a clueless lion cub who is about to get his face clawed.
Callum extended his hand in greeting to the ambassador. “Sir Callum Sharp. A pleasure to meet you again, your excellency.”
The ambassador took his hand, smiling broadly. “Ah, Sir Callum, the hero of Waterloo. Always an honor.”
Before Randolph had a chance to speak, Callum turned back to Eliza. “Lady Eliza Follett, may I introduce Senor Velez, the representative of the court of his gracious majesty King Ferdinand of Spain,” he said.
Eliza bit back a grin. Callum might well be attempting to put Randolph Ward firmly in his place, but she also had a trick or two up her own sleeve courtesy of her close friendship with the Prince Regent. She opened her arms wide and exclaimed, “Veli, how are you, darling!”
She embraced the ambassador in a warm hug, before turning to face both Callum and Randolph. “The ambassador and I have shared many long afternoons at Carlton House trying to beat his Royal Highness the Prince Regent at faro. In fact, I think I might still owe Senor Velez a pound.”
Callum gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgment. If he had thought to impress her with the kind of people he knew, he had made a brief but foolish misstep. The smile on his face told her he was more than happy for her to have a jest at his expense.
Randolph then did a fabulous job of nervously clearing his throat. “Sir Callum, I accompanied Lady Eliza this evening. I was just on my way to fetch us a champagne. Thank you for returning her to my side.”
His words were as weak as they sounded. Eliza blinked slowly and silently thanked him. Employing the jealousy trick could easily have backfired, but from the way Callum kept standing in her personal space it was obvious it was working.
Callum coughed lightly into his hand before lifting his head and meeting Randolph’s gaze. Eliza could have sworn Callum whispered something in Spanish as he smiled at him, but she didn’t understand the words.
“There is no need for you to bother with getting me a drink now, Mister Ward; I managed to get one myself,” she said.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Callum watching the exchange. The grin which threatened at the corner of his lips told her all she needed to know. He was in his element.
She turned back to the Spanish ambassador and gave him a tight smile. “Forgive my interruption to your conversation. Business obviously comes first. Please excuse me. Good evening to you both.”
Senor Velez leaned in and gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. He then whispered in her ear, “My dearest Eliza, you are far too interesting a woman to be wasted on being the wife of a banker. Sir Callum gets my vote. Did you catch what he said to you?”
“No. It was something in Spanish and I didn’t understand,” she replied.
“He said, Ella es mia.”
She turned and met the ambassador’s gaze. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
“It means, she is mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eliza was relieved that Randolph had the intelligence to know that he had played his part and to entrust things now with her. He didn’t make any attempt to stop her and Callum leaving the room. From the way that Callum’s hand was comfortably draped around her waist, it was clear to all and sundry he had staked his claim.
Ella es mia.
Those words kept rolling around in her head. She is mine. Talk about a public declaration of intent. But what did it really mean?
“Reid and the others are all going out after tonight’s concert; there will be no one at Follett House. You and I need to talk,” he said.
Eliza hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to do. Callum had been blowing hot and cold over their relationship for as long as she could remember. A spark of uncertainty now crept into her mind. What if this was just another one of those times when Callum, fearing that he might finally be losing her, was acting out of impulse?
“About what?”
“About us,” he replied.
She nodde
d. “Alright. After Reid has left, we can go home and talk. In the meantime, I suggest that you and I keep our distance from one another.”
Appearances would have to be maintained for the rest of the evening. She didn’t want Reid getting even the merest sniff that something was up between and her Callum. She didn’t trust herself not to spend the rest of the evening staring and smiling at Callum like a lovestruck young miss.
He went to walk away, but she took a hold of the sleeve of his jacket.
“Would you do something for me?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“Try and stay sober this evening. If we are to talk, I would like both of us to be fully invested in the discussion.”
Callum nodded. “I shall do my best to keep away from the drink.”
It was almost one o’clock in the morning by the time the Noble Lords finished playing and Reid, Owen, and Kendal all headed off to other late-night parties. At this time of the year, at the height of summer, London was a city that never slept.
After making their farewells to the host and hostess, Callum had the carriage brought around. It was the Sharp family town carriage rather than a hack; anyone outside in the street would see Eliza climbing into it—see her and Callum leaving together, heading back to Follett House where they both currently lived. All perfectly innocent.
Callum helped her into the carriage, and he took the seat opposite. Eliza let out a slow, shuddering breath, relieved that he had not decided to sit next to her. She was certain that if he had, he would have been able to hear her heart pounding loudly in her chest.
The journey back to Windmill Street was mostly made in silence. Callum stared out the window. From the way his Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down, it was obvious he was swallowing down lumps of nerves. It was the very same thing Reid did whenever the Noble Lords were about to leave for a performance.
Callum: Regency Rockstars Page 15
