Instead, she’d born Miss Grayson’s kindness and Tolston’s concern and Mr. Calloway’s…
Well, she wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been feeling. She had no earthly idea what he even thought of her. But he was protective of her and seemed to genuinely care about her survival.
Maybe even her happiness.
I’ll marry you.
She gave her head a shake as she chided herself for even thinking it. He was a gentleman, that was all. He might not have a title or be a powerful man of society, but he’d clearly been raised to be a gentleman.
She frowned down at her lap. Not for the first time she found herself curious about his upbringing. He had the manners of a knight, the appearance of a street thug, and the attitude of…she knew not what.
He was at once arrogant, competent, caring, and unconcerned with society. He was an oddity, to be sure.
But where had he come from?
Perhaps he was a bastard—raised in a lord’s house, but not a true gentleman.
She risked a peek in his direction. Yes, that would perhaps explain his odd conflicting behaviors.
When at last it was time to leave, a plan was in place, and she was exhausted. Perhaps she ought to be anxious or fearful of what was to come, but as she said her goodbyes to Miss Grayson and the others, all she felt was weary exhaustion.
The entire carriage ride back she found herself sorting through all that had happened. Her mind racing to connect the dots and find a pattern in the chaos that was now her life. There was something missing. A piece to the puzzle she could not quite place…
“Are you all right?” Mr. Calloway’s low voice, filled with concern, had her looking over quickly.
“Fine,” she said automatically. “I am fine.”
He studied her profile. “You do not have to be, you know.”
The carriage drew to a halt and she was saved from having to respond. He got out first and held out a hand.
As she took it and let him lead her into his home, she found herself wondering at the normalcy of this. At what point had she become complacent about traveling alone with an unwed man, or at entering his home and feeling like…
Feeling like it was her home, too.
She stopped in the entryway. She’d stayed here all of one night and yet she felt more comfortable here with him than she had staying at her own childhood home.
What did that say about her? About her life? About where she belonged?
“You look as though you could use a glass of sherry.” His voice was laced with amusement but concern etched his brow, making his gruff appearance that much more intimidating. “Come.”
He led her into the parlor. The same warm, cozy room where he’d brought her the day before.
She liked it in here. In this dark, wood-paneled room she felt as though the rest of the world might not exist. Like she was taking a seat in a place out of time, where it was just her and Mr. Calloway.
For the remainder of today, at least, it was just the two of them. And that was an utter relief.
He waited until she took a sip of sherry and winced. She never had liked the drink.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded, lying out of habit, before remembering who she was talking to. “Not really.”
Her honesty was rewarded by a small smile of understanding. “You have been through much these past two days.”
She nibbled on her lip and toyed with the glass as she considered that. “To be honest, I have not been entirely at ease since I learned of my engagement. But yes, over these past two days…the situation has certainly grown more dire.”
He studied her as he leaned back on the settee beside her. They’d taken their positions from the evening before as if it was a habit. A routine. Like they were an old married couple who had their usual spots beside one another.
Old married couple? What a silly idea. She set the sherry down. That was likely responsible for her ridiculous notions.
“So, you were not set on marrying him then?”
Her head came up suddenly. “Of course not.”
He arched a brow. “You seemed awfully intent on it at your engagement ball the other night.”
Shame shot through her at the way she’d defended the man even though she hadn’t known him. “Yes, well…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I suppose I didn’t want to believe that my father would hand me over to a ne’er-do-well, least of all a criminal.”
His silence had her shifting uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure what she’d been looking for by admitting to that, but now that it was in the open, she regretted it.
And yet, now that it was in the open, she could not let it go.
“Do you think he knew?” She forced herself to look over at him, dreading the pity she would find there.
But there was no pity, only sympathy. Affection, even.
She tore her gaze away.
Dratted sherry. It made her see things that could not be there. She’d been nothing but horrible to this man. She was his obligation, that was all. His burden, at best.
She licked her lips as she stared straight ahead and rephrased the question that he clearly did not wish to answer. “Do you think my father knew that Everley is…who he is.”
Cruel. Criminal. Evil.
“I do not know,” Mr. Calloway said slowly, warily. “Your father has been out of society for some time now, has he not? I suppose it is possible that he was ignorant of Lord Everley’s true nature.”
Possible, but not probable. She knew that was what he meant. His attempt to spare her feelings by offering up that optimistic suggestion made the truth that much harder to bear. “I wish I could believe that.”
It came out on a whisper and to her despair, tears welled in her eyes before she quickly blinked them away.
His hand covered hers on the seat between them. She was glad that he didn’t try to comfort her, to
