She wouldn’t have believed him anyway and lying would not have suited him. “My father might not be an active participant in society since his health has taken a turn, but he has eyes and ears everywhere. And he’s done business with Everley for a long time.”
Mr. Calloway stayed silent as she tried to reconcile herself to the fact that her father hadn’t cared one whit about her happiness. She’d never dreamt that he would put her wishes first when it came to finding a match, but she’d never thought he would knowingly choose someone who might hurt her.
The thought left her cold. So cold she reached for the sherry again.
“I was such a fool,” she said softly. “For wanting to trust my father. For blindly placing my faith in Everley…” She shook her head in shame at the way she’d stood up for him to this man that night in Everley’s study.
“You could not have known,” he said.
“You knew,” she said, accusation in her voice, though what she was accusing him of she wasn’t certain. Perhaps she was just accusing herself of being a dolt and she’d turned that tone on the wrong person.
She was the one at fault here, not he.
He shifted to face her better. “I only knew because Everley and I have a history.”
She stilled. All day today she’d told herself that she barely knew this man. One kiss and a magnificent rescue did not mean he was not still a stranger, for all intents and purposes.
But she wanted to know more about him. She wanted answers to the riddle that was Mr. Calloway. “What was your history with him?”
“I believe he killed my best friend.”
Her lips parted on a gasp. He’d made this accusation before, but it was no less shocking hearing it again.
“I grew up with Andrew Alston, who was Everley’s cousin…and the rightful heir to the Everley title and the estate it was entailed to.”
“Ah.” It came out as a sigh as she pieced it together.
“Everley had never been kind to Alston. Their relationship was strained, at best. So when Everley invited him out to hunt…even then I was suspicious.” Mr. Calloway looked down at his hands, lost in his memories. “Though I never suspected it would end in murder. It wasn’t until I talked to other members of the hunting party and heard three different utterly inconsistent stories about how the ‘accident’ occurred that I really grew suspicious.” He looked over to her. “Everley had the means, the motive… And I knew in my heart that he was responsible for taking my best friend from me, directly or indirectly.”
“So you investigated further?” she prompted.
“I did, yes.” His laugh was humorless and self-deprecating. “I made a hash of it. I bungled it all and made Everley look like the martyr.” He scrubbed a hand over his face in a rare show of weariness that made her heart ache. “I never did find the evidence I was looking for, and in the process I made a handful of enemies.” He met her gaze. “Including your father.”
Her breathing stilled as she met his dark, serious gaze. “Because he was friends with Everley. They were…” She waved a hand. “Cohorts.”
She didn’t phrase it as a question and he did not answer.
He didn’t have to.
She knew it to be true.
Her father was not a kind man, and she had little reason to believe he was honorable. It was becoming alarmingly apparent that he was not.
How much did her stepmother know of all this?
She shook off the question. What did it matter? Her stepmother was as powerless in her role as Delilah was in hers. Even if she’d suspected that Everley was a monster, she could not have done anything to prevent the engagement.
“To think,” Delilah said, more to herself than to him. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have married him without a second thought.”
“You give me the credit?” he asked, a hint of amusement breaking the tension. “You would have realized eventually—”
“But not until it was too late.”
He opened his mouth to argue the point, and she cut him off with a shake of his head. “I wouldn’t have seen it sooner because I wouldn’t have wanted to.” Her voice hitched and she had to take a deep breath to continue. “I did not wish to see Everley for who he was, because it would have meant knowing that…that my father truly did not care.”
He shifted closer, reaching for her to comfort her like he had yesterday, but she pulled back. “No. Wait, please. There is something I need to say.”
He stilled, his brow furrowed and his dark gaze locked on hers as though there was nothing in the world more important than whatever it was she had to say.
“I owe you an apology.” The words were stiff, her lips frozen. She and apologies had never been friends. She’d never quite gotten the hang of them, but at least she’d managed to get the words out.
He arched one brow in surprise but kept quiet as she’d asked. She smoothed her hands over her skirt in a nervous gesture. “When you offered to marry me last night—”
“Delilah—” he started
She spoke over him. “When you kindly offered to save my reputation by marrying me, I reacted horribly.” She closed her eyes as shame swept over her again. “I was unforgivably rude, and I am sorry.”
“You were under a great deal of stress.”
She rolled her eyes at his attempts to justify her bad behavior. “Perhaps, but that was not why I seemed so…so…”
“Horrified?” he offered, that hint of amusement once again in his voice. He seemed to revert to amusement no matter what the circumstance, as though he were forever on the lookout for reasons to laugh—at himself, and at everyone around him.
Such a strange man.
A strange, gruff, kind, wonderful man.
A surge of affection for this brute had her looking away as
