She didn’t have a posh suite like Gregory, Janet, or her Uncle Samson. She had a tidy bedroom that was just a single room, with no fancy sitting or dressing room. What would she have used them for anyway? She had a few gowns and undergarments, a few shawls and other accoutrements. They fit in the wardrobe and dresser.
It was the room she’d been given when she’d returned from the Caribbean, and after she’d become an adult, she could have requested more spacious quarters, but she hadn’t been interested. The spot, located down a deserted hall, was her sanctuary where she could hide from the craziness in the rest of the manor.
As a child, she’d spent untold hours loafing in it, peering out the window and wondering where Libby and Joanna had gone. When times had gotten particularly bad, when she’d been scolded or even whipped for sassing, she’d fantasized about running away to find them.
In her juvenile mind, she’d envisioned them being a family, with no adults to hurt or chastise them.
The years had passed though and that dream had faded. She acclimated to her quiet, untenable existence. She’d learned how to avoid her grandfather, how to keep from enraging him. He’d died when she was fourteen, and he hadn’t been mourned, most especially by her. Her Uncle Samson had moved home, and he’d brought Janet and Gregory with him. Matters had improved significantly after that.
He wasn’t the kindest person, but he was never deliberately cruel. He never whipped her or shouted at her. He never sent her to bed without supper. Why, his initial act had been to buy her some clothes! She’d outgrown the items she’d had, but no one had noticed.
She’d been glad for the changes her uncle had wrought, and when he’d suggested she wed Gregory, she’d agreed without reflecting. She’d been seventeen! What did she know about marriage? What did she know about anything?
She lurched to her bed and eased down, her hips balanced on the edge of the mattress. Usually, the solitude was very comforting, but she was too angry to be soothed.
In a moment of irksome clarity, it occurred to her that she possessed so few things she could truly call her very own. Why was that exactly?
Her uncle and Gregory were carrying on in a very grand style. Why wasn’t she? She wasn’t a stranger who’d wandered in off the street. She was one of Walter Grey’s three grandchildren. Her father, Winston, had been the oldest son when he’d perished in the Caribbean. Why had she been given so little by her uncle and grandfather? Why hadn’t she demanded more for herself?
She was fuming in a manner that was rare for her. Her life had been hard and miserable, and it had played out in such an unfair way—due to her male kin.
Maybe Janet was correct in her attitude. Maybe the two of them should cast off the yokes imposed by Gregory and Samson and head to the city. They could live together without the drama and irritation men caused. It was such a pleasant notion that tears flooded her eyes.
What should she do? It was painfully obvious she couldn’t continue on as she was. There had to be some massive concessions on Gregory’s part or she couldn’t proceed with the wedding. How could she produce that sort of conclusion though? How could she simply announce—six days before the ceremony—that she was backing out?
The door opened, and she braced, not able to fathom who might have followed her up the stairs. When she realized who’d arrived, she was thrilled, but alarmed too, and the first words out of her mouth were, “You can’t be in here.”
“Too late, Caro,” Mr. Ralston said. “I already am.”
“What if someone saw you?”
“I was cautious, but if I was observed, I don’t care.”
“Well, I care! Have you any idea of the trouble I’d be in if you were discovered in my bedchamber?”
“I can vividly imagine it, but your relatives are a bunch of buffoons. Why let their opinions matter?”
“They’re the only family I have.”
“Yes, poor you.”
He spun the key in the lock, sealing them in, then he leaned against the dresser and stared at her.
She stared back, a thousand comments clogging her throat. She had so many grievances to air, and she was feeling so maligned. She’d never had a confidante, and she was desperate to have someone listen and offer advice she could trust, but she was afraid—should she ever begin to unburden herself—she might ignite a whirlwind that would sweep the whole world off its axis.
Yet for once, she couldn’t remain silent.
“Is Gregory a drunkard?” she asked, figuring it was a good place to start.
“He has a terrible problem with liquor.”
“And with gambling too?”
“Yes.”
“I badgered him about it this morning, and he claimed it’s merely fun and games.”
“It’s not fun and games,” he quietly said.
“How much debt has he accrued?”
“Just to me, do you mean?”
She gasped. “How many people are owed money by him?”
“I couldn’t guess, but the amount he owes me is staggering.”
Her jaw dropped with astonishment. “How did that happen?”
He shrugged. “As it usually happens, I suppose. He’s a lousy gambler, and his drinking doesn’t help. He grows inebriated, and he can’t track the cards or the dice. Once he’s dug a hole, he keeps digging, assuming he can wager himself out of it.”
“That’s insane.”
“I’ve always thought so.”
“Would you cancel his debt? If I begged, would you?”
“No,” he callously replied. “I don’t like Gregory, and I have no duty to him. It’s not my business if he can’t control himself.”
“It’s my business though. It’s my home and my family’s money. Please?”
“No.” He bristled. “I wish I had a farthing for every woman who ever prostrated herself to me over some wastrel man.”
“You and I are friends, aren’t we?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, we’re. . . something.” She was
