“Let me ask you this,” she said, “and don’t lie to me.”
“I won’t lie to you. I haven’t been.”
He looked sincere, but how was she to judge his veracity? “Why did you climb into my bed? Was it because of the wager?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake.” He threw up his hands as if she was being ridiculous. “No, I didn’t spend the night there because of the wager.”
“Why did you do it then?”
“It just seemed. . . right, I suppose.”
“That’s it? It seemed right?”
“Yes.”
It was the most tepid, exasperating word he could have selected. She’d wanted him to say it was because he loved her, because he couldn’t live without her. But it had merely been. . . right?
“Your bet with Gregory was irrelevant?” she asked.
“Of course it was. I’m currently on a path to completely ruining him. He has no hold over me, and he has no power over you.”
She gaped with dismay. “You’re ruining my cousin?”
“Yes, and after how he imperiled you, he deserves it too. Don’t you dare claim I should show him some mercy. I won’t listen to any nonsense.”
A hard gleam had entered his gaze, so he appeared cold and cruel, and she suspected she was seeing the real Caleb Ralston. He was a man who owned a gambling club, who watched dispassionately as dissolute idiots destroyed themselves. He felt no remorse about the role he played in the downfall of so many unfortunate souls.
“What about me?” she asked. “What is it I deserve?”
He rubbed a palm over his brow. “Could we not fight? I’m very busy today, and it’s a mystery to me why we’re quarreling.”
“You sat in my home and dickered over my virginity with my drunken fiancé.”
“Would you get it through your thick head? He dickered with me. My only involvement with his foul suggestion was that I saved you from his being able to raise it elsewhere.”
“Aren’t you a saint?” she snidely said. “You talk about it as if it’s a common occurrence, as if it was no different from any other of your many entertainments.”
“It wasn’t different, Caro. You’re correct about that.”
Her pulse began to pound. Her anxiety was spiraling, and she couldn’t breathe. She was so confused by what she’d just learned. They’d spent a perfect night together. He’d proposed, and she’d accepted, but she was conflicted about what had really transpired.
Their joining had been very special—on her end—but then, maybe it hadn’t been on his. She’d given him a gift he’d won in an appalling manner, and he was so blasé about it, as if he couldn’t figure out why she was upset, but she was hideously incensed and wondering if she should wed him. Was he the husband to whom she should bind herself?
The problem for her was that they’d engaged in the marital act. They’d proceeded to the worst conclusion of all, but he’d persuaded her to participate because they would marry soon. But should they?
She had to contemplate so many issues. Was she being too fussy or critical? She definitely had to calm down or she might say things she didn’t mean and couldn’t retract.
She spun away, and he asked, “Where are you going?”
“I need some time alone to think.”
“About what?”
“About whether we should wed.”
“Don’t tell me we’re not marrying. Your cousin doesn’t have any bearing on you and me, and I have no idea why you’re so furious. I don’t intend to worry about him, and you shouldn’t either.”
“It’s too late for you to claim Gregory doesn’t matter.”
She would have kept on, but he sighed dramatically, his frustration clear. “Would you hold on just a damned minute?”
“No, and don’t you curse at me. I won’t tolerate that kind of rough language.”
“Well, you’re being silly, and you’re trying my patience.”
“I’m trying your patience? You ought to pause for a second and ponder which one of us is more vexed. I’m quite sure it’s me.”
She stepped into the hall, and he actually shouted at her. “Caro! We’re not finished discussing this. Don’t you walk out on me.”
She whipped around. “I’m not your servant or your employee, so don’t order me about. As my uncle could confirm, that sort of male posturing doesn’t have any effect on me at all.”
She marched away and headed for the stairs, and Blake peeked out his door, saying, “Are you all right, Miss Grey?”
“I’m just dandy, Blake, but I’ve had enough of you Ralston men for one day. Leave me be.”
She didn’t tarry to see if he obeyed. She simply dashed down to her bedchamber. She slammed the door and locked it, and she couldn’t help but notice that Caleb hadn’t chased after her. She couldn’t decide if she was glad about it or not.
Didn’t he care to mend their rift? Yet why would they mend it? She’d never been so angry, and she truly thought, if he’d blustered in and she’d been clutching a pistol, she’d have shot him in the middle of his cold, black heart.
She was shaking and couldn’t catch her breath. Her old claustrophobia was rising, and she had to get out into the fresh air before she suffocated.
Sybil had provided her with clothes, but she yanked them off and donned her own, more tattered garments. Then she grabbed the directions Blake had penned to Janet’s apartment. She was suffering from a desperate hankering to be with a female, to confide what had happened.
Caleb still hadn’t bothered to come down after her. The conceited ass! She stomped out of her room and down to the foyer. No servants were hovering, so there was no one to observe her departure. She speculated over how long it would take Caleb to realize she’d left.
She stormed out and down the street, and she stopped the first person she encountered and showed him Janet’s address. According to the information he supplied, her cousin lived a lengthy distance away, but Caroline was healthy and perfectly capable of walking.
She rushed off, but as she arrived
