Caleb winced. “Don’t even say it. I’m not ready to be an uncle, and he’s definitely not ready to be a father.”
It was a Saturday night, and the club was packed. He and Sybil were up on the stairs and staring down into the gaming room, watching all the negligent dunces throw their fortunes away.
He never permitted anyone to quarrel, imbibe to excess, or be too obnoxious. A man who resorted to fisticuffs was banned forever. For the moment, his establishment was novel enough that no one wanted to be exiled from it.
A kerfuffle erupted by the door, and they glanced over to find that it was Gregory Grey, presuming he could simply stroll inside. Caleb had footmen working as guards, and they dressed as befitted the ostentatious surroundings, but they were ruffians, mostly ex-soldiers. They’d been notified to block Gregory.
“There must be some mistake,” Gregory said, his words drifting up. “I’m a member. You ought to check your records rather than annoy me.”
“Sorry, sir,” his footman answered, “but you should come in during morning business hours. You can discuss the problem with Miss Jones. She’s in charge of the clientele list.”
Gregory had arrived with a group of acquaintances, and they bustled by him and hurried out to the tables. Nary a one peeked back to worry about Gregory.
He had a heated argument with the footman, and when he made no headway, he peered into the room, frantically searching for an ally. He saw Caleb up on the stairs, and he hollered, “Ralston! This dolt won’t let me in!”
It was all the complaint he could manage. The footman grabbed him by his collar and yanked him out—as if he were a mongrel dog. A few members noticed Gregory’s shout, and they frowned, curious as to what had transpired, but the din of noise concealed any signs of a scuffle. Their attention quickly reverted to their cards and dice.
After the commotion settled, Sybil said, “What a hideous little man. I’m so glad we’re shed of him. I never understood why you played with him in the first place.”
“Temporary insanity?”
She laughed. “It’s as good an excuse as any.”
“I thought he owned that bloody estate of his. He bragged about it constantly. And that trust fund! He constantly boasted about it too. I have no idea how I’ll ever recoup even a fraction of what he owes us.”
“You’re calling in your markers, aren’t you? You have to ruin him once and for all. Tell me you haven’t changed your mind about that.”
“I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Then I guess Mr. Grey’s life is about to grow quite a bit more unpleasant.”
Caleb started down the stairs, Sybil walking with him.
“I’ll be in the office,” he told her, “but I won’t be busy. Fetch me if you need me.”
“You can head home if you like. You’ve been in a bad mood since you returned from the country. Maybe if you got some sleep, you wouldn’t be so grouchy.”
“I doubt it would cure what’s ailing me. Besides, I never sleep, remember?”
“What’s ailing you? Has your heart been broken? Is that what’s wrong?”
“If it had been, I’d never confide in you. You’re too nosy, and I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Will I ever meet the gorgeous woman who tempted you?”
“No,” he said. “You’ll never meet her.”
“What’s her name?”
“If you must know, it’s Caroline Grey. She was Gregory Grey’s fiancée.”
Sybil’s jaw dropped. “You wicked boy! You interfered with their engagement?”
Caleb shrugged. “It was over before I appeared on the scene. Caroline had already had her fill of him.”
“I don’t blame her, but why leave her there? Why not bring her to London? Wouldn’t you like that?”
“I’ll never bring her here. She believes gambling is a terrible sin, and I would hate to have her see how I carry on.”
“It may be a sin, but it pays well.”
They reached the floor, and she sauntered away. It was a gentleman’s club, but she managed it for him. The men who were members had to accept her presence or they could wager somewhere else. There were plenty of spots in London where a fellow could destroy himself, and it was all the same to Caleb.
He went down the hall, the sounds of merriment fading, and he entered the office. Technically, it was Sybil’s office, so she’d decorated it more comfortably than he would have. It was cozy, with plush chairs, warm rugs, and pretty paintings on the walls. It looked like a library in a country cottage.
She had numerous vices, one of them being a penchant for hard spirits, so she kept a stocked liquor tray. He poured himself a whiskey and sat behind the desk. He sipped his drink and pondered the recent past.
His trip to Grey’s Corner seemed like an event in a dream. Had he really crossed paths with Caroline Grey? Had he really led her on to where she’d assumed they might have had a future?
It was horrid of him to have behaved that way. He never should have trifled with her, but for inexplicable reasons, he hadn’t been able to resist her. She was beautiful, smart, sweet, and interesting, and she exuded a vulnerability that made a man anxious to take care of her.
He had certainly been riveted by that notion, and he shouldn’t have abandoned her to her awful relatives. On that final day, she’d told him she’d always watch for him, that he could come back and she’d be waiting. Why didn’t he do that? Why didn’t he ride to Grey’s Corner and abscond with her?
His problem was that he was so stubborn. He’d convinced himself that they couldn’t be together, and he couldn’t persuade himself to crawl off that ledge. He had to stop pining away and questioning his every action with regard to her. Otherwise, his low mood would never wane.
He had to buck up and recollect who he was. He didn’t bond with females, and he wouldn’t ever attach himself to
