Callum: Regency Rockstars

by Sasha Cottman

  He took one look at the trunk, which three servants were lugging behind Eliza, and frowned. “Isn’t that your travel trunk? Don’t tell me Callum doesn’t have enough luggage of his own.”

  She glanced behind her as the footmen carried the trunk toward the stairs which led out to the rear of the house. “Yes, it is mine. It has my things in it. I am leaving with Callum.”

  Over the past week, she had thought about this confrontation—imagined all the places and circumstances under which it might take place. How her brother would react to the news that she was married. How loud the argument would get. And, of course, the repercussions.

  She was surprised to find herself calm. No tears—not even a raised heartbeat. It was as if she had rehearsed this moment for so long that now it was finally here, she was fully in command of her emotions.

  “You are not leaving this house with that man. I forbid it,” Reid ground out.

  Eliza nodded. She had been expecting this response and her reply was ready on her lips. “I am an adult, Reid. You cannot stop me.”

  The look of pained realization on his face at her words was heartbreaking; this was when he finally understood that everything, he had done to keep her and Callum apart had come to nothing.

  “Please, don’t do this. I can’t bear the thought of you throwing your life away on him. I beg of you, don’t do what Mama did,” he pleaded.

  Eliza pulled the gold chain from around her neck and unclasped it, removing the ring. They had talked about this ad nauseum; there was nothing left to say. Neither was going to change their mind.

  She came to Reid and rose up on her toes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Reid. You are the most wonderful of brothers. But Callum is my husband and I belong with him.”

  With that, she slipped the wedding ring onto her finger and followed the trunk out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “It is good to see you,” said Eliza.

  She gave Owen a kiss and accepted his hug. It was a great comfort to her that one of the members of the Noble Lords had decided to pay a visit to Sharp House. She was, however, surprised that it was Owen.

  “And you as well, Lady Sharp,” he replied.

  “Actually, I am Lady Eliza when at home. Callum’s mother and I decided it was all too confusing having two Lady Sharps under the one roof.”

  “That makes sense.” Owen nodded. “I am sorry I didn’t get to speak to you before you and Callum left Windmill Street. Reid tells me it was a sudden departure,” he replied.

  Eliza softly sighed. She was still getting used to the idea that she no longer lived at Follett House. Her new home was in a different part of London, which presented its own challenges when it came to be getting her bearings.

  “Yes, it was rather sudden, but Callum is comfortable with his decision and I belong with my husband.”

  “Well, may I offer the both of you my congratulations, on your marriage. You have my wholehearted support if that counts for anything,” he replied.

  But not when it comes to the Noble Lords.

  She was tempted to give voice to that thought but kept quiet. Owen was here and hopefully he’d brought an olive branch with him.

  They each took a seat in the drawing room, falling silent while a footman and maid brought them refreshments. Once the servants had gone, Eliza poured them both a cup of coffee.

  Owen looked at the cups and raised an eyebrow. “I thought Callum was a tea drinker.”

  “He is, but I am cut from the same cloth as Reid. A devoted coffee fan to my bones. I will drink tea if there is no other option. Lady Sharp kindly had a supply of coffee beans ordered the moment Callum and I moved in,” she replied.

  She handed Owen a cup, then sat back on the sofa and sipped at her drink. Owen rarely went anywhere without a purpose; she was content to wait for him to speak.

  He set his cup down and met her gaze. “Will Callum be joining us?”

  “No.”

  Callum was still upstairs asleep in their bed. He had sat with his father late into the night, finally making it to their bedroom in the early hours of the morning. He had woken her and, sensing his need for comfort, she had made love to him, then held him close until his breathing had slowed, and he had fallen into a deep sleep. She would not be disturbing him for any visitors.

  “Is he still angry?”

  “Callum was never angry. He was disappointed, of course, but that is to be expected. At the moment, he has other priorities which are of greater concern. I cannot disclose what those are, but I respect his decision to distance himself from the rest of you for the moment,” she replied.

  Owen sighed. “That is unfortunate, because I came here today to invite the two of you to my wedding. Lady Amelia Perry and I are getting married at my family home later this week. I would dearly love the both of you to come to Abbots Langley and share in our happiness.”

  Eliza wiped away a tear. This was the best news she had received in a long time. The smile on Owen’s face when he made mention of his fiancée was endearing.

  “I will ask Callum, but I don’t think it is possible for us to leave London at present. I am also not certain that my brother and Callum should be within fifty feet of each other, especially not at a wedding. The last thing any of us wants is for them to be throwing punches during the service.”

  Owen nodded. “I understand, but it won’t be the same without the two of you on my big day. I am still sad over the fact that none of us were with you for your own nuptials.”

  He got to his feet, and Eliza followed suit. It was a pity that Owen’s visit was a brief one, but she was pleased that he had at least made the effort. She had a feeling that the road back to where the four Noble Lords were friends again was going to be a long one.

  “Thank you for coming, Owen. I hope it won’t be your last visit,” she said.

  Owen headed for the door, then stopped and came to her side. He wrapped his arms around her. “Take care of him. I know Reid is bitterly disappointed over the whole secret wedding business, but I am glad that Callum has you. The two of you were always destined to be together.”

  “Owen Morrison, have you finally discovered love? Miracles of miracles. Give Lady Amelia my best wishes. We hope to see you and your new bride once you return to town.”

  Owen took his leave and Eliza went back and picked up her coffee. She wandered over to the window and stared out to the street below, as Owen climbed into his carriage and left.

  London’s foremost rake had succumbed to one of Cupid’s well-placed arrows.

  “Three Noble Lords married; one to go,” she muttered.

  It rained slow and steady the morning they buried Sir Thomas Sharp. The funeral was a private one at Bunhill Fields Cemetery. After Baron Sharp was laid to rest in the family crypt, Callum and Eliza walked unhurriedly back toward the entrance. Lady Sharp had gone home to pack and leave for her sister’s house in the country. She wanted time away from London and Callum had given her his blessing.

  He held his wife’s hand, thinking to offer her comfort. When Eliza glanced up at him and gave him a soft smile, Callum nodded. It was Eliza who was the tower of strength today. It was all he could do not to break down and fall to his knees.

  I need a drink. I don’t know how I can get through this sober.

  He squeezed her hand a little harder. He just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Forward motion was the only thing of which he was certain.

  As they neared the cemetery gate, Callum stopped. At the end of the funeral he had been overcome with such a sense of finality and loss that his chest grew tight. His body was being torn apart from the inside. His breathing came hard. He turned to Eliza. “How do you get through this? How do you live through grief?”

  “One day at a time,” she replied.

  He was a grown man. He had seen war and death, but nothing had touched him like the loss of his father. A part of him was now gone.

  Eliza let go of Callum�
�s hand and took a step back. “You won’t ever be the same again. Your life is changed forever as are you. All I can say is that the first year is the hardest. Time is a great healer. The years will lessen the pain.”

  He stared at her, unable to begin to understand how she and Reid had survived the trauma of losing both parents.

  At this very moment, he wanted nothing more than to find a fat ganjah cigar and smoke it down—anything to stop this rising tide of emotion which threatened to overwhelm him. “Oh fuck,” he muttered as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He put his hands to his face and sobbed.

  Eliza wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. The gentle rubbing of her hand up and down his back gave comfort. When he managed to finally get himself under control once more, Eliza guided him over to a nearby stone bench. Callum slumped onto the seat.

  “This is probably the hardest part of all: coming to terms with the fact that your father is gone. Right now, you are probably refusing to believe it. I know I did when my parents died. Anger will soon follow,” said Eliza.

  He looked at her. “Anger?”

  She nodded. “Yes, you will be angry with the world. Desperate to find someone or something to blame. Poor Reid—I gave him hell in those first few months. Tried to get him to admit that it was his fault that the carriage had crashed. As you now know, the truth, of course, was far worse.”

  “I need you to do something for me,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I want you to go home to Follett House and wait for me. I have to try and get my head straight. I am not good with people at the moment, but you need to be with friends and family.”

  People who can be there to support you; today, I can’t be that man. I have nothing to give anyone.

  Lavinia had sent the last of Eliza’s things over to Sharp House the previous day, so obviously the Noble Lords had returned from Owen and Amy’s wedding in the country. “Alright. I will go to my brother’s house and wait for you. In return, I want you to promise me something,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Promise me you will try not to drink or take drugs. I am not asking that you give me a solid undertaking—only the promise that you will do what you can,” she said.

  He nodded. “I will not lie to you; I have a raging thirst for a bottle of gin right now. I want to resist that urge, but please forgive me if I fail.”

  “I love you, Callum. You are strong; you will get through this. Are you sure I cannot come with you?”

  He turned away. Rows of old headstones grew from the grass that stretched in front of them. Few stood upright. Many had fallen over as the ground underneath had subsided during the years.

  His world was crumbling under him. How long would it be until he too fell?

  “I don’t know where I am going, I just need to be alone, to find my way through this thick oppressive miasma of grief. Remember when you said that it felt like a hammer was about to fall? Well, I feel like I have been laid out on an anvil and the blows just keep raining down on me.”

  “I don’t want to leave you, but if it’s what you want, then I will go back to Follett House. But please come back to me and make it soon. Every moment that we are apart I shall worry.” Eliza gave him a soft kiss on the lips, before heading for the gate of the cemetery.

  As she walked away, Callum fought the urge to go running after her. If he did, it would be taking the easy road. Eliza would once more selflessly shoulder the emotional burden in their marriage.

  No.

  It was time for him to take up his share of the load, to be fully accountable for his life, and finally become the man Eliza needed. The husband she deserved. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to do it.

  Callum turned and went back to his father’s grave.

  Chapter Forty

  Eliza waited until nightfall before finally packing a small bag and going back to Windmill Street.

  She knocked on the front door. Her key was still in her reticule but considering her manner of departure and the fact that she no longer lived at Follett House, it was more appropriate that she arrive as a visitor.

  Mister Green opened the door and greeted her with a smile. “Welcome home Lady Eliza.”

  “I no longer live here; I am merely a visitor. Hopefully a welcome one. Is Lady Follett at home?”

  “I shall enquire,” replied Mister Green.

  While she waited in the foyer, Eliza fiddled nervously with her wedding ring. It was odd to be a stranger in her old home.

  The ballroom door opened, and Reid appeared. At the sight of him, Eliza promptly burst into tears.

  He crossed the floor in quick strides and pulled her into his arms. “Please don’t tell me the blackguard has broken your heart, because I will bloody well wring his neck if he has.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. “No. But I need your help. Callum needs your help.”

  When Reid sighed, Eliza prayed that the next words out of his mouth were not going to be I told you so.

  “Let me get everyone together, then we can talk,” he replied.

  She wiped at her tears. “Thank you. I know I don’t deserve your help.”

  Putting an arm around her shoulder, he led her toward the stairs. “Nonsense. We are family and you have every right to our assistance.”

  Reid called the rest of the Noble Lords and their wives together and they assembled along with Eliza in the main drawing room upstairs. Marco was the only one missing, having travelled on to Manchester following Owen and Amy’s wedding.

  A stony-faced Reid got to his feet, ready to address the gathering, but Eliza held up her hand and took the floor instead. “Firstly, I want to offer Owen and Amy mine and Callum’s most sincere congratulations on your marriage. We were sorry we couldn’t be with you, but as I explained to Owen, we had other pressing matters to deal with.”

  She had hoped that Callum would be the one to tell his friends about his father, but with his disappearance it now fell to her. She sucked in a deep breath. “Just after you formed the Noble Lords, Callum was given the news that his father didn’t have long to live.”

  The shocked gasps and cries from Kendal, Owen, and Reid made her pause for a moment.

  Callum, I wish you were here to see how much they all care about you. Your brothers in the Noble Lords still love you. They are sharing your pain.

  “There were some delicate business matters which caused the Sharp family to keep this news a secret. Callum made me aware of them some time ago when he and I made a private agreement to finally marry,” she continued.

  Reid’s head dropped. Eliza could only imagine the guilt he and the others were feeling over the way they had treated Callum during those weeks.

  “Sir Thomas Sharp died while you were all away at Owen and Amy’s wedding. Callum asked to be left alone at the end of the funeral this morning and I haven’t seen him since. He requested me to return here and said he would come for me. But I’m afraid that he has gone off somewhere.”

  She put a hand over her eyes as the heavy emotional toll of the past few days finally caught up with her. “I don’t know where is, and I am frightened that he is going to do something foolish. He was beside himself with grief,” she sobbed.

  “Oh, Liz,” said Lavinia. She pushed her way past her husband and embraced Eliza. “He loves you. You must have faith that he will come back,” she whispered soothingly.

  Reid cleared his throat and finally spoke. “We shall find him, Eliza, and we will bring him home.”

  Callum woke in the dark. His searching fingers touched cold stone. He didn’t know where he was. Panic gripped icy fingers around his chest.

  “Shit. Am I dead?” he muttered.

  Had the whole past year been a dream while he lingered in purgatory? Had he actually succumbed to his wounds and everything he thought had happened was actually just a false memory?

  He sat up, blinking, straining to see, wishing that his body would calm down. Putting a hand to h
is tight chest, the heavy thump of his heart pounded through his clothes.

  Hang on. If my heart is beating, then I can’t be dead. Phew.

  With his eyes growing more accustomed to the dim light, Callum could make out where he was. He was inside the Sharp family crypt. The stone beneath him, the grave of his great grandfather. A long, deep breath helped to calm him down.

  He slid forward, his boots crunching on a pile of dry leaves as he dropped to the ground. His first step had his boot kicking a glass bottle. The sound of it clattering against the wall echoed in the dank, dark chamber.

  As he headed up the stone steps which led outside, he stubbed his boot on the middle step.

  “Ow!” The pain which radiated up his leg finally confirmed that he was most certainly still alive.

  At the top of the small set of steps, he came out into the pale grey light of dawn. Bunhill Fields cemetery was shrouded in an early morning mist. An ethereal air hung about the place.

  “It’s bloody freezing,” he exclaimed.

  “Yes, it is,” replied a voice.

  Callum’s head shot around and he was greeted with a sight which had him looking twice. On a nearby fallen headstone sat a craggy old man with a violin in his lap.

  He gave Callum a toothless smile. “If you are going to start sleeping in the cemetery, you might want to steal a blanket.”

  The muted sky overhead confirmed Callum’s suspicions, he had spent the entire night in the Sharp family crypt; little wonder he was cold, and his muscles were stiff.

  “I don’t plan to spend another night here,” he replied.

  The old man gave a knowing chuckle. “That’s what they all say. Thems who come ’ere to sleep above ground always end up sleeping below. Though you do look a bit posher than most beggars.”

  “I buried my father here yesterday,” replied Callum. He pointed toward the steps. “That is my family crypt.”

  The old man shrugged. He didn’t seem the least bit impressed that Callum’s family had their own private burial area.