Sybil knocked and poked her nose in. “You have a visitor.”
He grimaced. “It better not be Gregory Grey. If the guards let him in, I’ll have to murder somebody, and I’d rather not commit a homicide this evening.”
“It’s not Mr. Grey, but when you discover who it is, you might murder me. Promise you won’t.”
“That depends on who it is.”
“I think this is a good idea or I wouldn’t have pushed it on you.” She stepped into the hall and spoke to whoever had accompanied her. “It’s nice to see you again. Feel free to call on us whenever you like.”
“I will,” a man replied, and Caleb sighed, figuring he knew who it was.
She glanced in at Caleb and said, “No fighting! You’re not children, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t act as if you were.”
Then she strolled off, and his guest entered the room. They glared, not shooting visual daggers, but not exhibiting any fondness either.
“Jacob,” Caleb said to his half-brother, “this is a surprise. What brings you by?”
“I was in the neighborhood, and I simply walked through your door.”
“Aren’t I lucky?” Caleb muttered, and he gestured to the liquor tray in the corner. “Help yourself or must I summon a footman to serve you?”
“Don’t be an ass. I’m tired, and I don’t want to quarrel.”
Caleb reined in his snotty attitude, silently fuming as Jacob poured himself a whiskey. He refilled Caleb’s glass too, then set the bottle between them. Apparently, this was a conversation that would require copious amounts of alcohol.
He pulled up a chair, and they sipped their beverages, studying one another as if they were strangers or enemies, but those two words failed to describe their connection. Caleb wasn’t sure what they were, but they definitely weren’t friends.
Jacob was dressed for a night on the town, wearing a formal black suit, the velvet jacket expensive and perfectly tailored, his white cravat stitched from the finest Belgian lace, so he’d wisely left his navy uniform at home. Thank goodness.
It was bad enough for Blake to strut around in his naval garb, but to witness Jacob in it too, to be reminded that he was captain of his own bloody ship. . .
Well, that was a bit more aggravation than Caleb should have to swallow while sitting in his own office.
Disgusting as it was to admit, he never stopped being curious about his half-brother. They looked exactly alike: same height and weight, same striking blue eyes, same brawny shoulders and healthy physique. The genuine difference was that Caleb’s hair was blond and Jacob’s was black.
They were the same age of thirty, their birthdays a few months apart, providing stark evidence that their father had been an immoral dog.
Caleb and Blake told themselves that Miles had married his first wife—Jacob’s mother, Esther—out of duty to his family, but that he’d married their mother, Pearl, because he’d loved her and couldn’t live without her. Yet they couldn’t guess if that view was accurate or not.
By the time they’d realized Miles was a bigamist, their parents had been dead, so they couldn’t inquire as to his reasoning.
Miles’s fellow officers had claimed they were unaware of his sinful existence, and Caleb suspected they’d probably known about it, but had ignored the situation. The burden of it, the shame of it, had fallen on Blake and Caleb when they’d been much too young to carry the load.
Caleb had initially learned about Jacob when he was ten and newly arrived in England, but they hadn’t met until they were twenty. Even then, they’d bumped into each other by accident, at a party for a senior officer who’d been retiring.
Since then, they’d been forced into each other’s company on a handful of awkward occasions, and they couldn’t deduce how to socialize. They weren’t responsible for their father’s conduct, but they’d suffered for it. Caleb and Blake were a stain on the Ralston family name, and Jacob’s mother in particular had been very cruel about it.
Miles’s behavior was a stain on Jacob and his siblings too. He had two sisters, and they’d assumed themselves to be his only children. Caleb and Blake had shattered any illusions they’d harbored about Miles.
It was a horrendous quagmire, and Caleb didn’t begrudge his half-siblings their anger or disdain. He was angry too and had been raging for two decades, and he couldn’t imagine why Jacob had waltzed in. There was no point in chatting, and Caleb had no desire to be cordial.
He was very rich now, as Jacob would have heard, and he hoped Jacob wasn’t about to ask for a loan! He wasn’t privy to the condition of the Ralston finances. What had been accumulated over the years? After Miles’s death, how much remained?
Jacob had inherited their father’s estate, which included a manor house that could have been a castle fit for a king. That kind of property cost a fortune to maintain. Was Jacob broke? Was he seeking fiscal assistance?
Maybe he was about to demand repayment of the monies his mother had forked over for Caleb and Blake’s schooling and commissions. If that was the case, Caleb couldn’t predict how he’d react.
One thing was certain: He wouldn’t give Jacob Ralston a single farthing. Any money Esther Ralston had shelled out to get Blake and Caleb situated in life was money that was fully warranted.
“What can I do for you, Jacob?” he asked. “What is it you need?”
“I don’t need anything. I was being truthful when I told you I was simply walking by. I had to say hello.”
“Fine. Hello to you too.”
“It looks as if you’re doing really well.”
“I’m doing well enough,” Caleb said.
“I’m glad. After you left the navy, I was worried about what would happen to you.”
Caleb tsked with offense. “I’m sure you were a veritable boiling pot of concern.”
“I was worried. I’m delighted to find that you’ve landed
