After Caro had snuck away, he’d been brusquely informed by Blake that she didn’t want to talk to him. Apparently, she presumed a quarrel could be mended by not speaking. It was the stupidest notion ever, but he should have expected it from such an absurd female.
Blake had claimed that she would contact Caleb if and when she felt like it, and because he was embarrassed over how he’d hurt her, he’d complied with her edict.
He’d spent several days, cooling his heels, trying to oblige her, but eventually, he’d been too irked to behave rationally. If she wasn’t so stubborn, they could have been married already. Didn’t she understand that fact? Why was she being so ridiculous?
He’d dragged himself to Janet’s apartment and had been prepared to grovel, to offer whatever emasculating comment was required to be forgiven. Except when Janet had finally responded to his incessant knocking, she’d apprised him that Caro wasn’t even in London any longer. While he’d been fretting over their rift, she’d packed her bags and departed! She’d been that unconcerned by what had happened.
How was he to evaluate such an exhausting decision? After their hideous fight, he’d felt as if she’d ripped out his heart and stomped it into the dirt. What had she felt? Evidently, not much of anything.
She’d fled the city, and that little snot, Janet, had refused to tell him where she’d gone. It was enough to make a bachelor swear off matrimony.
A footman arrived to attend him, but Caleb didn’t emerge from the vehicle. He was so sad! When he’d hurried off to fetch Caro, he’d been determined to bring her back with him, and his failure had left him inordinately depressed.
Ultimately, the footman stuck his head in and asked, “Are you all right, sir? Will you be getting out?”
Caleb sighed. “Yes, I’m getting out.”
He trudged down and went inside, and the butler greeted him with, “You have a visitor, Mr. Ralston.”
Caleb’s initial reaction was ecstasy. “Is it Miss Grey?”
“No, sir, it’s an old acquaintance of yours from the navy.”
Caleb turned around as a man stepped into view and said, “Hello, Ralston.”
“Luke Watson?” Caleb asked. “Or must I call you Barrett? I heard that you’d inherited your family’s title.”
“Yes, my brother died last year. I’ve become what I never wanted to be.”
“You’re land-locked.”
“I had to muster out and sail home to manage things.”
Caleb gestured into the parlor, and they walked in together. He had the butler pour them a whiskey, then shooed him out and shut the door. The man had been hovering, eager to eavesdrop, but Caleb had no idea what was occurring. Until he figured it out, he wouldn’t have the servants hanging on their every word.
Lucas Watson was Caleb’s same age of thirty. They’d joined the navy at sixteen, and they’d served with distinction—until Caleb had been run off in disgrace. They’d moved in the same circles, with the same people.
In a different world, they might have been friends, but they weren’t friends, and he couldn’t imagine why Barrett would stop by. It had better not be to pry into the details of Caleb’s split from the navy, and just as he caught himself praying that wouldn’t be the topic, Barrett said, “Rumor has it that you had some trouble and had to retire.”
“Yes, I retired rather than be court marshalled, but if that’s what you’d like to discuss, it was a wasted trip. I’m not about to delve into it with you.”
“I don’t intend to pester you about it, but I will admit to being surprised that you’d get yourself in a jam like that.”
Caleb shrugged. “It was an. . . unfortunate circumstance.”
“You bounced back though. With your gambling club?”
Caleb studied Barrett as if he were an alien creature never previously encountered in England. “I hate to be blunt, Barrett, but we were never chums, so why are you here? I’m dealing with a huge dilemma today, so I’m very busy.”
“I’m marrying next week.”
Caleb was perplexed as to why Barrett would mention it. It wasn’t as if Caleb would suddenly find himself on the guest list.
“Well. . . congratulations,” he said. “Are congratulations in order? Should I be glad for you? Are you happy about it?”
“My fiancée is Libby Carstairs. You’ve heard of her, haven’t you? The Mystery Girl of the Caribbean? She’s definitely a handful, so I can’t guess if you should be glad for me or not. She’s not exactly the sort of meek, modest female a man seeks in a bride, so it’s possible I’ve lost my mind.”
“You are marrying Libby Carstairs?”
“It’s wild, isn’t it? From your expression, it’s clear I’ve shocked you.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Caleb was thinking of Fate again—and of his father. Libby Carstairs was a Lost Girl, as was Caro. What were the odds that Miss Carstairs would wedge herself into Caleb’s life like this? It was eerie and bizarre.
“Libby is the most stubborn woman ever,” Barrett said. “Have you met her? Or have you seen her on the stage?”
“No, I always wanted to, but. . . but. . .”
He wasn’t about to explain how his father had rescued Miss Carstairs in the Caribbean or how he, Caleb, had yearned for an introduction, but how he’d been afraid of what she might impart.
Barrett saved him from having to clarify. “If you’ve never met her, then you could never comprehend why I couldn’t resist shackling myself. I didn’t stand a chance, not from the very first minute.”
“Poor you,” Caleb commiserated.
They smirked in a thoroughly male fashion, then Barrett said, “She sent me to speak to you. I’m carrying out a mission at her request.”
“I’m confused. Since I don’t know her, I can’t fathom why she’d bother.”
“We had a visitor show up at my home in the country. I’m told she’s a friend of yours.”
Caleb scowled. “Who was it?”
“Caroline Grey.”
“Caroline is at Barrett?”
“Yes.”
“I will wring her neck,” Caleb fumed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for her, and I’ve been frantic with worry.”
“I take it you have plans with regard to her.”
“Yes, I have bloody plans. Marriage plans, but we quarreled,
