A Scoundrel's Surrender (12 page)

Marah nodded before a terrible thought entered her head. “Do—do you suppose she knows about me? About my family?”

Victoria got to her feet and moved to the window with Marah. She took both her hands and smiled at her. “Don't read poor intentions into every lady of elevated status. You know that is your grandmother's bias coming to the surface.”

Marah frowned. As much as she hated to admit it, Victoria was right. Her maternal grandmother had made clear her thoughts about those with rank.

Victoria continued, “I'm certain my mother-in-law
has
heard the gossip about your family connections. Even in her sequestered state, she is one of the most important women in Society. Her spies are everywhere and keep her in the know about such things. Honestly, I think the gossip helps to keep her from drowning in her heartbreak.”

Marah hated the thought of Lady Stratfield, who she had liked so much, looking at her with different eyes. Perhaps judging her or seeing her as a new person.

“Don't look so worried,” Victoria said. “I can assure you she cares nothing about that.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because she raised Caleb. And if he doesn't care . . . she doesn't care.” Victoria grinned.

Marah pondered that for a moment as Caleb's reaction to the revelations about her played in her head once more. Then she nodded. “Very well, I'll come with you.”

Victoria smiled as she enveloped Marah in a hard hug. “I'm glad. You won't be sorry.”

But as her friend called for Crenshaw to send word of their additional guest to the Stratfield house, Marah stared at her reflection in the window. Whether she was sorry she had taken the invitation remained to be seen and depended upon one person.

Caleb.

Chapter 12

M
arah sighed as the family retired to the drawing room for drinks after one of the most delicious meals she'd ever eaten. In fact, her entire evening with the Talbots had been wonderful with one glaring exception. Caleb had been seated down the table from her and he had openly stared at her the entire duration of the meal.

She was certain that he wasn't escorting
her
to the parlor, but his mother, only because his sister had taken Marah's arm before he could intercede. And he hadn't looked very pleased about that fact.

Tessa squeezed her arm gently and drew Marah's attention to her as they walked.

“I took your arm because I wanted to have a moment alone with you, Miss Farnsworth—” Tessa said as they walked. “I mean, Lady Marah.”

Marah sighed. Though no one had spoken directly of the revelation of her family connections, the entire household, down to the servants, was now calling her Lady Marah. She rather hated the sound of it, it was so foreign and strange.

“Well, I'm happy to speak to you,” she said with a forced smile. She could only hope Tessa wouldn't broach the subject of the Breckinridges. She wasn't up to discussing her estranged family: the topic only inspired painful thoughts.

“I wanted to tell you that you made quite an impression on my father the last time you visited with us,” Tessa said as she followed Victoria and Justin into the drawing room.

Marah tensed slightly. Tessa had been so against her intrusion into her father's chambers, she hoped the young woman didn't still harbor resentment over the fact that her opinion hadn't been heeded.

“I liked him a great deal,” Marah said slowly.

Tessa released her arm and faced her. “I apologize for my outburst that night. I can be quite . . .
protective
of both my parents, but especially my father.”

Marah thought she saw Tessa shoot a quick glare toward Caleb, but she wasn't certain because it was so brief an expression.

“Why wouldn't you be?” Marah asked. “Under the circumstances, your protectiveness only makes you an excellent daughter.”

Tessa blinked and Marah saw the beginnings of tears in her dark eyes, but she smiled nonetheless. “Thank you for your understanding. But in this instance, I want you to know that I was wrong. I—”

Before she could finish, Caleb slipped up to the two of them and grinned at Marah. “Great God, Marah, mark the date. My sister has admitted she is wrong. This is a great moment in family history.”

Marah stared at the unwarranted harshness of his tone toward his sister. Caleb had a glass of wine in his hand and she had seen him drinking at least two more at supper. Apparently the spirits had loosened his tongue in a most unpleasant fashion.

“Caleb—” she began in a hushed tone.

Tessa's lips thinned as she speared her brother with a pointed glare. “This was a private conversation, brother. You were not invited to it. Not that it has ever stopped you.”

He turned to her with a laugh. “Come on, Tess, you know it's true. You
never
admit fault, you never have probably since you were old enough to speak.”

“Caleb,” Marah said. “That is enough. Your sister was being quite kind to me and she doesn't deserve your—”

Before she could finish, a servant hurried into the room. “I'm sorry to interrupt, my lady,” he panted, addressing the marchioness.

She looked at the man and her cheeks paled. “What is it?” she whispered.

“It's the marquis, madam. He seems to have taken a turn.”

“Call for the doctor,” Justin called as he sprinted for the stairs. “Hurry!”

Marah stood stone-still as the rest of the room erupted into action. Tessa burst into the tears she had been trying to hold back and was ushered away by Victoria. Servants banged doors in the hall and called out to each other. But all the action seemed to be in half time, slowed until Marah turned her face and found the marchioness still standing in the middle of the room, staring at the place where the servant had first come in. She hadn't moved, she hadn't seemed to have breathed, since that moment.

“Caleb,” Marah snapped, stepping forward to shake his arm, for he, too, was just standing still, numb.

“Marah?” he whispered, his tone a horrible question she couldn't answer.

Her heart broke for him, but she managed to keep from offering comfort. He needed to
give
solace rather than receive it.

“Your mother,” she murmured, turning him to make him look at her. “Take her upstairs. Take her to her husband.”

He stared at his mother and then his gaze darted down to her. “I don't know, I—”

Marah grabbed his arms and shook him gently. “Stop acting like an angry, spoiled child and start acting like a son. She needs you. Whatever she has done in the past, she needs you. For once in your life think of someone else and go to her.”

He stared at her for another moment, but then he walked to his mother.

“Mama, let me take you up,” he said softly.

The marchioness shook her head as if she was just waking from some kind of dream. Or nightmare. She stared up at her younger son.

“Your father—” she began, and then her knees buckled.

Caleb caught her, steadying her as she somehow managed to gather herself.

“My father needs us both now,” he whispered. “Let me take you up to him.”

Lady Stratfield nodded. “Yes. Yes, take me to him.”

Marah stood there, silent, watching as Caleb all but carried his mother from the room and up to her beloved husband. The man she might never see again. And as they disappeared from view, Marah bent her head and let a few tears fall. For the marchioness. For Caleb.

Even for herself.

S
ince the announcement that his father had taken a turn for the worse, when he had gone upstairs with his family hours before, Caleb had seen Marah come and go. She had escorted the doctor to the group when he arrived. Later she had ensured they were all brought tea and a few cakes, which everyone picked at but no one bothered to eat.

She had also been responsible for trading wet handkerchiefs for dry and had comforted all the women in the room. She had even passed by him during the third hour of their vigil and briefly held his hand, squeezing his fingers and making him feel, just for a moment, that perhaps everything would be all right after all.

Finally, after the hours had blurred together and time had ceased to matter, the doctor rose from the marquis' bed and stretched his back.

He turned toward the family, gathered in small groups around the room. Marah was in the doorway, away from them, but ready to assist if she was needed.

“This slip is the most grave yet,” the doctor said quietly, as to not disturb the sleeping patient. “But I think the worst has passed. His Lordship seems to be stable now and is sleeping as comfortably as we can expect.”

At her husband's bedside, Caleb's mother reached out to stroke a finger over his thin, pale hand.

“Do you hear that, my love?” she whispered, her tone broken and cracking. “You have come through this yet again.”

The doctor gathered his things, and Justin and Victoria offered to take him out. As they left the room, Caleb looked at his mother. She would stay at his father's side for the rest of the night, he was certain. He wasn't about to tell her she shouldn't, even though he found himself worried about the deep circles under her eyes.

Instead he approached his sister, leaning on a wall near his father's bed, almost as if it were the only thing holding her upright. Now he felt terrible about the mean-spirited teasing he had indulged in earlier. His frustration had made him cruel and he hated himself for it. With trembling fingers, he touched her arm. Tessa looked up at him with a surprised jump.

“Caleb,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

He was surprised at her openness to him, but he didn't comment on it as he hugged her gently.

“I-I'm sorry,” he whispered. “For what I said. For—”

“Shhh,” she whispered as her embrace tightened. “I know.”

After a moment, the siblings broke apart. Tessa stepped back and looked past him at their mother.

“I'll stay with her for a time, to see if I can convince her to go to her own bed. I doubt she will do it, but she needs the sleep.”

Caleb was glad his sister saw the same exhaustion in their mother that he did. They were so close, Tessa probably had the best chance to make her listen of any of them.

She released him. “Now, you go home. And take dear Marah with you.” She smiled across the room at her. “She has been a godsend tonight.”

He followed his sister's stare. Yes, indeed she had been. He patted Tessa's hand a final time. “Tell Mother I said good night. I don't wish to disturb her.”

She agreed and he left her side. At the door, he stopped beside Marah. She was holding a tray and he took it, setting it on a table beside the door.

“The servants can tend to that,” he explained as he took her hand. She let him, without hesitation, yet another indication of how trying a night this had been for them all.

He took her down the stairs and into the foyer, where he sent a servant to gather her wrap. As she waited for him there, Caleb went into the front parlor. Victoria and Justin were standing with the doctor.

“I'll escort Marah home in my carriage,” he said softly.

The two looked at him, Victoria's gaze particularly hard and focused, but then she nodded. “Yes, we may be here a bit longer and she deserves a comfortable bed after all her support to the family tonight.”

He didn't respond as the couple returned to their conversation with the physician, but when he moved into the hall to find Marah adjusting her wrap around her shoulders, he stopped to stare. Her hair was a bit looser than it had been earlier in the evening, sending little pretty tendrils around her drawn face. She looked as tired as he felt.

But she
did
deserve something. For everything she did for everyone else, she deserved much more than he could give.

“Caleb?” she whispered.

It was the first time he'd heard her voice in close to an hour and the soft tones of it brushed across his skin and made him hyperaware of how much he wanted to touch her. Without responding, he took her hand and led her to his waiting carriage.

As they got in, she looked toward the house.

“Aren't Victoria and Justin coming with us?”

He shook his head. “They are still talking to the doctor. I wouldn't be surprised if they stay here tonight rather than coming home at all.”

“O-oh,” she stammered and even in the dim carriage he saw her cheeks turn pink, as if she was contemplating, just as he was, all the things that could happen when two people who had an undeniable attraction were left unchaperoned.

“Thank you for what you did tonight,” Caleb said softly.

As they drove down the deserted lanes toward Justin's home, he watched the way the streetlights outside passed over her face.

She shrugged. “It was nothing.”

He moved to her side of the carriage. “It was everything, Marah,” he said softly. “
You
were everything.”

She shivered as her hand came out to rest on his chest. He looked down at the fingers clenched gently there. She had probably meant to push him away when she did it, but now she stared up at him, her mouth slightly parted and her breath coming quickly.

“Can't I give you something in return for that kindness?” he murmured, almost more to himself than to her. “Can't I give you a gift as you have given me and all my family?”

“You only want to do this to forget,” Marah said, her voice shaking.

He shook his head. “No, Marah. Not to forget.”

He glided his fingers into her hair and dropped his mouth to hers. As she surrendered and her hand glided up to cup the back of his neck, Caleb realized that she was too tired to fight him. That her own desires, which she could normally control, were going to win the battle between propriety and need, at least for a short while.

So he took advantage of that surrender. He drew her even closer, until she was almost on his lap. He cradled the back of her head and kissed her so deeply that he felt like they melded into one person. She held him to her, meeting his tongue with gentle thrusts of her own.

And then she let out a sighing moan that switched off any remaining gentlemanly instincts and stirred his cock the way no other woman had been able to do since he last allowed himself to touch her like this.

They didn't have much time and Caleb wanted her so much. He wanted to feel her pleasure. He wanted to give that to her until it was all that existed in this small, cramped space.

He brought himself to his knees before her, continuing to kiss her even as he found the hem of her gown with shaking fingers. Slowly, unsteadily, he started to pull it up, bunching it at her hips.

“Caleb?” she murmured, though her body writhed as his fingers touched the bare flesh beyond her stocking.

“I won't take,” he promised, looking up her body to meet her eyes. “Only give. I swear to you.”

He could see how much she thought she should deny him, but he also saw something else . . . that she didn't want to. In that moment he realized that, like him, she had dreamed of the one afternoon of pleasure they had shared. She had thought of the ecstasy of that joining, and the fact made the ache in his loins all the more powerful.

He pushed her legs open and in the dim light he saw her sex glitter with moisture. He reached out to touch her there, and Marah sucked in a breath as her head dipped back against the padded headrest behind her.

He traced the open slit, feeling her heat beckon to him. When his thumb brushed the swollen nub of her clit, she clenched her fists against the carriage seat and let out a groan that sounded like music to him.