‘Lo! That’s startlingly red hair.’
Ellen jumped then smiled at Owen over her shoulder. ‘I didn’t realise you were there.’
He stepped up beside her, resting a hand on the windowsill. ‘What’s she doing?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Ellen turned her attention back to Sophy Calder. ‘She appeared two days ago and has been watching the house ever since.’
Owen’s lips formed an O shape. It was obvious what he was thinking, because it was exactly what she was thinking. Did Sophy know Geoffrey?
‘It’s probably nothing.’ She forcibly turned her back to the window. ‘How are you this morning?’
‘Dapper.’ Owen’s easy smile returned. He was staying in one of the other guest chambers. His valet had arrived the morning of the second day with three large travel trunks holding more clothes than Ellen had ever owned in her whole life. Today he was wearing a magnificent red waistcoat with gold buttons that brought to mind the militia.
Did the man have a waistcoat for every occasion? And probably more besides.
Noting the direction of her gaze, he peacocked his chest to best display the fine cut of his clothes. But there were dark shadows hanging under his eyes.
‘You didn’t sleep well either?’
‘No.’ He sighed. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about Lizzy and Grace.’
‘Is she still crying?’
‘Thank goodness, no. Now she’s sequestered herself in Wood’s library and is reorganising all his papers.’ He gave her a look that clearly demonstrated what he thought Calum’s reaction to his grandmother’s interference would be.
‘Quite.’ Ellen grimaced. Knowing the dowager, it was highly likely Calum would return home to find all his newspaper clipping of the ship fire tossed away. Perhaps she should stage a rescue mission.
‘Speaking of Grace, this just came for you.’ Owen handed over a letter, sealed with a wax stamp into which had been pressed the monogram GC.
She tore it open.
To the Hon. Miss B—
On the happy occasion of your forthcoming nuptials, I gift you my half of the Callaghan London townhouse.
Yours in earnest,
Grace
True to her word, Grace had included the deed for the other half of the house.
‘It’s not a genuine deed.’ Owen squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘She can’t actually give you half a house when Wood is the actually owner. It’s just a gesture.’
A rather smug, self-satisfied gesture that made it perfectly clear the duchess hadn’t been fooled by Ellen’s proclamations that their wedding was a love match. ‘I know.’
She didn’t want to think about Grace right now. Or Sophy or Geoffrey or anyone but Calum and Gwen. Her heart backflipped in her chest. They were a day late.
‘There was another note left for you.’ Owen dragged his heels.
Her stomach sunk. ‘Another one from my delightful brother?’
He nodded, reluctantly handing it over.
It was another old calling card with the name and address of someone she’d never heard of crossed out and a short message scrawled on the back.
I’m coming for you.
‘Did anyone actually see Geoffrey push it under the door?’ She suddenly felt very vulnerable standing with her back to the window for anyone to see.
‘No.’ He glanced over her shoulder and she was sure he was checking on Sophy. ‘Wood will be back soon. He’s probably just around the corner.’
‘It’s been longer than three days. He said three days.’ She tried to keep the panic from her voice.
‘I know, but travel is like that sometimes.’ He pulled a small key out of his waistcoat pocket. ‘The old man wanted me to give this to you. He said you’d spend too much time worrying, and that you’re to eat cake and stay calm.’ He backed away. ‘Why don’t you try to get some rest? As soon as I see him approaching the house, I’ll give you a shout.’
Owen’s love for Lady Faye was unmistakable. And now he was taking such good care of her too. ‘Thank you.’ She tried to put as much sincerity as she could into those two words.
He waved his hand dismissively—’Get some rest’—and slipped out of the ballroom.
She jammed both notes into her reticule. If only the old saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’ were actually true.
She fingered the key. It was warm to the touch. Maybe cake was exactly what she needed right now. Cake and a lovely cup of hot, sweet tea. Calum was absolutely right.
***
The iron gates of No. 7 Roseworthy Street towered over even Cal. When compared to Gwen’s wee stature, they appeared visually insurmountable. The house itself was shrouded in the gloom of gritty London smog, and a heavy weight settled on Cal’s chest. It had always been an ugly house. Ugly and claustrophobic despite its grand size.
He pushed open the whingeing gate, stepping aside for the other two to enter first. Gwen looked up at him and he nodded his encouragement. She still clutched the paper bag of honeycomb he’d bought her at one of their few stops.
From somewhere out of sight, a crow gave a mournful cry. Otherwise, the street was surprisingly quiet. Eerily so. The neighbours probably all had their noses pressed to their front windows, wondering who had finally lured Crazy Calum from his seclusion.
‘Ellen will be waiting for us inside,’ he said in an attempt to break the unnatural silence. Waiting inside for her daughter. Not for me. She doesn’t want me.
He unlocked the front door. The sooner this fake engagement was over the better it would be for everyone. Having Ellie so near was leading to too many thoughts of self-worth. He had no future; he deserved no future.
As he led the others inside, he recited the list of reasons why marrying Ellie was such a bad idea.
1. Pierce was dead.
2. He was too damaged.
3. She didn’t want to marry him and was possibly already married to someone else.
Well, hell, that last one really soared to the top.
Yet she cared for him; he’d tasted it upon her lips each time he’d kissed her. Or so you were foolish enough to believe. She lusts after you, that’s all.
‘You’re back. Finally!’ Owen sprinted down the narrow passage to greet them. ‘We were starting to get worried. You’re a day late.’ He shook Maggie’s hand with overfamiliarity and clapped Cal on the shoulder with a smile of welcome he didn’t reciprocate.
Why did Owen have to be so damned happy all the time?
‘You must be Miss Guinevere, Ellen’s sister.’ He kneeled before the child, but she ducked behind Maggie, using the woman’s skirts as a shield. Maggie clicked her tongue in warning.
‘I’m sorry.’ Owen straightened, startled. ‘I guess it’s been a hectic few days. You’ll probably—’
‘I’m going to wash,’ Cal interrupted. His guests were now somebody else’s concern, and he desperately needed a shave. At least, half his face did. ‘You’d better tell Miss Burney her family’s here.’ Miss Burney. Not Ellie. Never again Ellie. He started forward, but Owen grabbed his elbow, halting his progress.
‘What are you doing? Don’t you want to see Ellen’s face when she sees they’re safe?’
‘No.’ To hell with Ellie and love and happiness. To hell with family. He was bachelor and a hermit.
He wrenched his arm free but Owen had already thrown back his head. ‘Ellen. Ellen! Lizzy. They’re here.’
Hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs and down the hall from the kitchen, and suddenly Cal was trapped between Owen, Maggie and Gwen, and an approaching fake fiancée and loud-mouthed grandmother. Ignoring Owen’s protests, he limped into the drawing room and kicked the door shut in their faces.
To hell with the lot of them. He’d had enough for one day.
Ellie—Miss Burney!—so very happy to see her family. But that wasn’t him. Never would be. He unstopped a decanter, gulping down a mouthful without even bothering with a glass. Sweet and fruity. Sherry? He coughed. Where the hell was his whisky? He’d only been gone four days!
He slumped onto the settee, leaning back as the old springs squeaked. Was he actually jealous of a child and a spinster? Was he so desperate for Ellie’s affection that he was angry because she cared more for her own daughter than for him? Apparently he was even more pathetic than he’d realised.
Tzar was sleeping half under the settee, half on the rug. His snores did little to drown out the chatter on the other side of the door. Owen was chattering too, pushing his nose into business that had nothing to do with him. He was always doing that—going where he wasn’t wanted, prying where he shouldn’t be.
Cal tossed down another gulp of vile sherry, kicked off his shoes and stared up at the ceiling. His jaw was so tight his head ached. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what his life had been like before Ellie had clambered through his window and into his heart.
***
Ellen found Calum lying on the settee, his legs dangling over the armrest. Night had fallen and tentacles of soft firelight tickled his face. There was a discarded—mostly full—decanter of Lady Faye’s sherry on the ground by the sleeping dog.
He groaned, rolling onto his side before sitting up. His head dropped into the cradle of his hands, his elbows on his knees.
It wasn’t often she had the advantage of superior height. His clothes were travel worn. He’d kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. Dark stubble had grown in on one side of his face, the other was just as rough and tormented with scars as ever.
‘Are you all right?’
He jumped, looking up at her blurry-eyed. ‘Are ye already married? Is that why ye said no to me?’
Her insides coiled into tight knots and the warning bells in her head starting ringing a full peal. ‘W-wherever did you get an idea like that?’ She tried to sound nonchalant but it was an exercise just to get her mouth to work.
‘I know Gwen’s your daughter.’
She froze. Oh lordy. ‘Calum, I… You…’ She pressed her eyes closed. ‘W-who told you?’ It came out as a whimper, as a barely-there question.
‘Dr Audley.’
Emotions bombarded Ellen like a volley of coach horns. The sound of her blood pumping through her ears was deafening. Was this why Calum hadn’t greeted her? Did he hate her for lying to him? Did he hate for her straying, for being an unwed mother? As Geoffrey hated her. ‘W-why did Dr Audley tell you?’ Her voice was rising, but it sounded distant, like it was someone else yelling. ‘What did you do to him?’
‘He was maudlin drunk. How is he even a doctor?’
‘Drunk?’ Dr Audley? That was news to her. Then again, she’d been rather isolated these last few years.
‘Why didn’t ye just tell me about Gwen? I’m supposed to be yer goddamn fiancé.’ He hit his fist to his thigh.
She flinched. ‘My fake fiancé. Fake.’ On that note at least she could correct him. Or rather reassure him. ‘It isn’t something one goes around blurting out at every available opportunity. It’s a secret.’ A pox on Dr Audley. A pox on Calum Callaghan!
Excluding herself and Gwen, only five living people knew Gwen was her daughter. Geoffrey, her mother’s two best friends, Dr Audley. And now Calum, her fiancé—fake fiancé! Why were they having so much trouble remembering that? Fake. Fake. Fake!
‘I understand that, but I’m not everyone and their twittering gabster. I’m…’ His mouth worked in silence. ‘I’m yer friend. And I’m trying to help ye.’
Friend? Is that what they were to each other?
Her friends were few and far between, but she’d certainly never kissed any of them as she’d kissed Calum.
Friend. That word annoyed her. A second ago she could hardly breathe for fear. Now her panic was intermingled with annoyance. None of her friends, God forbid, had ever pleasured her down there as Calum had. Not even Gwen’s father, for that matter.
If we’re not friends, then what are we? Lovers? They hadn’t quite gone that far, but they were well beyond friendship.
Weren’t they?
‘The fewer people who know the truth the better,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s always been that way.’
‘Better for who?’ He rose, suddenly towering over her again. They were so close. Almost chest to chest. Well, chin to chest.
What an obnoxious question. A little more of her panic turned to annoyance, like water freezing to ice. ‘Better for Gwen. For Gwen.’ She didn’t give an inch. He could sit up there on his high horse like the rest of the world, like her own brother, but there was no way she was ever apologising for Gwen’s existence. Gwen was the best thing in her life—her difficult, confusing, scary life. ‘Everything I’ve ever done has been to keep my daughter safe.’
A pause so heavy with tension it was like lightening crackled in the air between them. And then he deflated. His shoulders sagged and all the fight left his eyes. ‘Of course. Ellie, ahh, I’m sorry. I got a shock, that’s all.’ He sagged back down onto the settee.
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of his speedy withdrawal, not quite believing what she saw. ‘Calum,’ she said slowly, ‘I hate to be the one to break it to you, but women bear children out of wedlock all the time. It might not be socially acceptable but it happens, and you can’t—’
‘I know,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s not that. I just got a shock thinking ye might already be married.’
‘Oh.’ She sat down too. ‘Well, I’m not.’
‘And Gwen’s father?’ He sounded so hesitant, so unsure of himself. She’d been preparing for the moment when someone confronted her about Gwen’s parentage for the last six years. She had her retorts well in hand—if not her panic—but now…
She took another deep breath. What should she say?
The truth. He deserved that much. ‘I don’t know. The colonies, mayhap? I haven’t seen head or tail of him since well before she was born. He wants nothing to do with us.’ She shrugged, attempting a careless attitude. ‘Even before my father died and Geoffrey gambled away my dowry.’
‘I’m sorry.’
There was a light scattering of grey hair near his temple. She hadn’t noticed when she’d cut his hair. Had that really only been less than three weeks ago?
Calum shifted. The settee sunk lower under his greater weight, and she slipped a fraction closer. ‘You have more questions,’ she surmised. If she were in Calum’s shoes, she’d have a million.
‘I do.’ He actually looked sheepish.
She almost laughed. ‘Ask away.’ This was what friends did, wasn’t it—talk about their lives, discuss their problems, share their secrets? She winced. Maybe they were just friends.
You didn’t want to be anything more. She had, after all, been the one to refuse his offer of marriage.
Because he was only offering protection, nothing more. Did she want more? More than just friendship? More than just kisses?
‘What I still didn’t understand is why ye’re running away from Geoffrey. He isn’t yer guardian because ye’ve reached yer majority, and now I know he isn’t Gwen’s guardian because she’s yer daughter. Surely ye could have left his house and found employment long before now.’
And the spell was broken, again. Of course there couldn’t be anything more between them. He was one of only eighteen dukes, the highest in the land, aside from the royal family, while she had a daughter to think of and a secret to keep. ‘With an illegitimate baby in tow? I think not.’ She shook her head, focusing her thoughts on Calum’s questions and only Calum’s questions. Not thinking about how his scars pulled at the left side of his mouth so that on those rare occasions when he actually smiled it was lopsided. And most definitely not thinking about how he liked to keep his eyes open when they kissed so he could watch her every response.
‘It was only possible to accept work with her ladyship because Gwen is a little older now and because Maggie agreed to hide her. Maggie’s sister-in-law wasn’t too pleased about the whole arrangement, but she’d never turn Maggie away.’ The two sisters by marriage, while not all that friendly with each other, shared a bond of love for Maggie’s older brother, who’d died many years ago falling from a horse.
‘I see.’ He ran a hand through his hair, setting it on edge. He was pale and dark circles hung like half-moons under his eyes. Like usual, he hadn’t been looking after himself properly. She ran the bell, organising for a tray to be brought in, before resuming her place by his side.
‘Ye could have trusted me, ye know. I wouldn’t have told anyone.’
‘I’ve been keeping Gwen’s identity a secret her entire life. It’s more natural for me to not talk of it. And, as I’m sharing the truth with you now…’ she hurried on before she could back down, ‘I didn’t know how you would react. My own brother, my own flesh and blood, can’t stand the sight of my beautiful daughter.’
‘I’m not—’
‘No, you’re nothing like Geoffrey.’ Truer words she’d never uttered.
‘If ye married me, the courts would award me guardianship of Gwen.’
‘But…’ Her heart stared hammering against her chest again until she could count each beat. Beside her, Calum froze, still as a statue. A log slipped in the fire, causing the embers to flare, and for the briefest moment his dark eyes flashed pure gold. ‘I’m Gwen’s guardian.’
‘I didn’t mean—’ Calum looked panicked.
‘And if you did that, then all and sundry would quickly realise the truth of her parentage. All these years of secrecy would have been for nothing.’
‘Aye. But, lass, Blackford is probably going to tell everyone the truth if ye don’t go home with him anyway.’
‘I know. It’s a complete mess.’ It was her turn to bury her face in her hands. ‘But I couldn’t have stayed under Geoffrey’s roof a moment longer. He hit Gwen.’
‘Ye know I would marry ye in a second if ye thought it would help.’
‘I do. But I don’t want to live in a world where people have to get married just to escape their dunderheaded brothers.’ She looked at Calum though the cage of her fingers. ‘As it is, you’re risking your reputation even just pretending to be engaged to me. If—or when—Geoffrey tells everyone I’m a fallen woman. I’ll be shunned by all of polite society.’
‘I’m hardly du jour myself. And ye know I don’t care what other people think of me.’
‘But of course you care.’ Could he not see that? She didn’t want Calum to keep himself locked away from the world because of her. And she certainly didn’t want to lock herself away. She wanted to hold her head high. She wanted to live her own life and provide Gwen with a life worth living. A life free of Geoffrey and every other person who’d try to bring Gwen down because her father and mother hadn’t been married when she was born. ‘I don’t think this house is very good for you, Calum. You don’t seem very happy to be back.’
For a moment afterwards everything was perfectly still, as though time had stopped. She’d hit a nerve.
‘Where’s Gwen now?’ he eventually asked.
‘Lady Faye tucked both Gwen and Maggie under her arms and marched them upstairs to bed.’
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. ‘How did she get them to both fit?’
‘Surprisingly, with little difficultly.’ Considering the height difference between herself and Maggie. ‘I had the impression Maggie took an instant liking to Lady Faye. It was almost as if they’re old friends.’
He slipped an arm about Ellen’s shoulder, closing the last inch between them so they sat hip to hip. ‘Ye know my grandmother wouldn’t care one pence about Gwen’s parentage if ye told her the truth.’
Ellen exhaled, leaning into his one-armed embrace. ‘Your grandmother is hardly a pattern-book marchioness.’
‘That’s one way to put it, gel.’