Sybil led her through the gaming room, through the kitchens, and out to the alley, where their carriage was parked. They’d been about to head off, so the horses were harnessed and waiting for them.
Caro seemed to have deflated. Sybil was practically carrying her, as if every ounce of Caro’s energy had evaporated.
Several footmen had tagged after them, and they appeared stricken over her plight. The carriage door was opened, and two of them stepped forward and lifted her in. She was limp as a ragdoll, so it was easy for them to manhandle her.
Sybil climbed in, then Caleb followed. Sybil slid onto the seat across from Caro, but Caleb sat next to her and tugged her onto his lap. She nestled herself to his chest and wept quietly all the way home.
Caleb lurked in the hall outside the guest bedchamber where Sybil had sequestered Caro after they’d arrived at their London house. The minute they’d entered, Sybil had begun shouting orders. Caro had been whisked up the stairs, and Sybil had locked them in, with their female servants mobilized to offer assistance.
He’d been relegated to the status of observer and hadn’t been allowed into the room. He’d cooled his heels, trying to keep his impatience in check, as they fussed over her.
It was evening already, the lamps and fires lit. She’d been bathed and fed, her cuts washed and bandaged. The servants had left, but Sybil was still with her. The hum of their voices was audible, but he couldn’t discern any words, and he couldn’t imagine what they were discussing.
Finally—finally!—Sybil emerged. She walked over to Caleb, and they huddled together.
“Did she tell you what happened?” he asked.
“Yes, but I’ll let her tell you herself.” Sybil clucked her tongue. “Would you kill Gregory Grey for me? And his father? Would that be an awful favor to request?”
His temper flared. He’d suspected Gregory Grey was the culprit. “I could kill them. I don’t have any problem with that conclusion.”
Sybil smirked, then raised a brow. “I like her.”
“So do I.”
“I think she’ll be perfect for you.”
He shrugged noncommittally. “You might be right.”
“You certainly took your time deciding she was the one.”
“I haven’t decided that,” he claimed.
She simply flashed a look that told him he was being ridiculous. “I’m needed at the club, so you’ll be alone with her.”
He tamped down a wave of delight. “I won’t misbehave.”
“I didn’t insist you act like a saint. If I were a matronly sort of woman, I’d warn you not to go in there, but I’m not your mother, and I’m definitely not her chaperone.”
“I wouldn’t listen to you anyway.”
“I recognize that fact, so figure out what you want from her. Don’t be stupid about it.”
“I’m never stupid about anything.”
She scoffed. “You’re the stupidest man I know. Except for your brother. He’s worse than you are.”
“I won’t argue the point.”
“We’ll talk in the morning about what’s to be done with her—and her relatives.”
“I’m moving against Gregory in the courts, but I can speed up that process.”
“Good.”
“I’m working to attach their property to secure the debt. It belongs to Gregory’s father, but Gregory is the heir, so it will be his someday. My lawyers are pursuing that angle.”
“Maybe, before you’re through with them, you’ll end up owning the estate, and you can present it to her as a gift. It would be damages owed for what she’s endured.”
“I like that idea.”
“You can also murder them.”
“Without batting an eye.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She patted him on the chest and sauntered away, then he spun the knob and tiptoed into Caro’s room. He’d expected her to be asleep, but she was awake and waiting for him.
She was in bed and leaned against the pillows, the blankets pulled to her waist. Sybil had produced a robe for her to wear, and she appeared snug and relaxed, her condition a hundred percent improved from when she’d stumbled into his club.
A thousand comments swirled between them, then he asked, “What on earth happened to you? I could have sworn you were safe and sound when I fled Grey’s Corner. You’ve given me the fright of my life. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just so glad I staggered in your door. If I hadn’t, I truly can’t imagine what might have become of me.”
She held out her hand, and he dashed over and clasped it as tightly as he could. He eased a hip onto the mattress and dipped down to kiss her.
“I like Sybil,” she said when he drew away.
“She likes you too, which is amazing because she usually doesn’t like anybody.”
She batted her lashes in a teasing way. “It’s my abundant charm. It simply flows out of me.”
“Why are you in London? What’s wrong? Please inform me in a bland manner so I’m not inclined to rush out and commit a homicide.”
“Well, after you departed, I stuck to my guns and called off the wedding, but my uncle refused to consider it. He even had our vicar come over to perform the ceremony, in an attempt to force me into it, but I wouldn’t comply. My uncle was so angry that he locked me in my room.”
“The bastard,” he muttered, then he hastily said, “I apologize. I don’t mean to be crude.”
“The derogatory term is completely fitting, so I’m not offended. One afternoon when he was out of the house, our housekeeper, Mrs. Scruggs, snuck in. A footman had overheard Gregory conspiring with my uncle. They were secretly planning to put me in an asylum.”
“An asylum? Seriously? On what grounds?”
“They intended to claim I was suffering from hysteria. If they’d managed to obtain a court order, Mrs. Scruggs feared I’d never be released. She slipped me some money, and I ran away to London.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“Neither do I. It’s not as if I’m a great heiress.” She sighed, looking young and vulnerable and desperately in need of a strong ally. “My cousin,
