“I had a problem arise at the last minute,” Caleb claimed. “I couldn’t make it.”
“It took us forever to get the tickets. We saved a seat for you, but if we’d known you weren’t coming, we could have brought someone else.”
“Sorry,” Caleb said, even though he wasn’t sorry.
“Lucretia, don’t nag,” Gregory said. “It was a Friday. You’re aware of how busy Fridays can be for him.”
Caleb owned a gambling club, and his old friend and substitute mother, Sybil Jones, ran a faro parlor in it that earned them small fortunes every evening. He hadn’t ever planned to engage in such dubious commerce, but he’d stumbled into it after he’d been kicked out of the navy.
With his having few skills other than manning the sails on a sailing ship, he hadn’t had many choices. After his career had been yanked away, he hadn’t wanted to generate money in such a duplicitous fashion—or even to stay in England for that matter—but as Sybil constantly advised, he didn’t force their customers to gamble.
“I’m not nagging,” Lucretia said to Gregory. “I simply can’t believe he passed up the chance to see Libby Carstairs.”
Caleb calmly sipped his drink, pretending scant interest. “Was she as amazing as the gossips contend?”
“Oh, it’s impossible to describe her,” Lucretia gushed. “She’s celebrated for being stunningly beautiful, but she’s stunningly talented too.”
Gregory scowled. “I thought it was stuff and nonsense. She’s likely a charlatan who wasn’t even on that accursed island. She’s deluded people into listening to her sob stories.”
“You did not think it was nonsense.” Lucretia’s tone was scolding. “Her tale of woe had you sniffling in your kerchief—along with the whole audience.”
Caleb snorted at that and asked Gregory, “Were you sniffling?”
“Perhaps a little,” Gregory said, “but she was extraordinary. I’m embarrassed to confess it, but her performance was extremely moving.”
“Next time you can manage to obtain tickets,” Caleb said, “be sure to apprise me. It sounds as if I shouldn’t miss her.”
The statement was a total lie. He had no intention of ever seeing Miss Libby Carstairs on the stage.
He’d always known who she was: Libby Carstairs, Mystery Girl of the Caribbean! She was one of the three waifs rescued by British navy sailors when she was five. She’d made a career for herself by repeating various accounts of the shipwreck that had left them stranded on a deserted island.
Previously, she’d traveled around the country, spinning yarns about her ordeal in tiny villages and at rural fairs. She’d only recently arrived in town to dazzle all of London.
She’d taken the city by storm, and even though the event had occurred two decades earlier, Londoners couldn’t get enough of her sad, mystifying narrative. They couldn’t talk about anything else.
He had his own connection to the Lost Girls through his despicable, deceased father, Captain Miles Ralston. Caleb never mentioned it—Miles was a sore spot for him and his brother, Blake—but his father was the captain who’d found them, and Caleb had no desire to dwell on any of those memories.
He glanced over Lucretia’s shoulder, and Caroline Grey was behind her and gaping at Lucretia as if she’d just heard shocking news. For a moment, his gaze locked on hers, then she vanished into the crowd.
She was a petite female and nimble as a fairy, so she’d been hiding from him, and he couldn’t blame her for being so determined to avoid him. He’d uttered several rude insults about her nuptials, and no doubt, she was affronted and annoyed. It served him right for being such an ass.
He couldn’t imagine leaving her alone though. She was gorgeously pretty, and she appeared young and vulnerable too. It was obvious she needed a strong, stable man by her side, but Gregory wasn’t that man. He wasn’t the man any woman needed.
Plus, he was amorously attached to Lucretia Starling. Apparently, he was so devoted to her that he’d brought her to his wedding, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from her for even a few days.
Did Miss Grey realize what was happening? Was she curious as to why Lucretia was there? Then again, Gregory had invited numerous acquaintances from London, so Miss Grey probably figured Lucretia was merely another friend.
Should Caleb disabuse her of that notion? Should he tell her truths she desperately ought to discover? He’d blurted out the fact that Gregory gambled, and she’d insisted that he didn’t, which proved Gregory had concealed his habit from her.
Should she be informed of the quagmire that was approaching?
He swallowed down a scoff of disgust. He was not Caroline Grey’s savior, and if she was foolish enough to bind herself to Gregory Grey, it wasn’t any of Caleb’s business.
It was just that their encounter out on the lane had been so strange. He’d felt the oddest attraction to her, as if the universe approved of their meeting. As Caleb had strolled with her, he’d caught himself leaning in, as if he should lay a hand on her waist and pull her close so their bodies would touch.
He was handsome, dashing, and rich, so he’d had his share of lovers, but he’d never experienced a sensation similar to what Miss Grey had stirred. He was keen to deduce what was causing it, and until he did, he couldn’t ignore her.
She snuck onto the verandah, and he grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and slipped away from Gregory and Lucretia to chase after her.
It took him a minute to find her. She was in the garden, walking down a lighted path. She halted under a hanging lantern, and when she turned to study the house, he studied her. She was slender and willowy, but curved in the right places. England was a world of blond girls, and with her black hair and striking blue eyes, she was refreshingly different.
She emitted an alluring mix of beauty and innocence, and she’d have many interesting layers. He would be delighted to peel them all away.
She saw
