A Scoundrel's Surrender (5 page)

“Then come here,” his mother said, her face lighting up with real pleasure for the first time since his arrival. “Stay with us in your old chamber. I could have it ready for you before your things were sent from Justin and Victoria's home. Tessa and I would love to have you.”

Caleb's gaze flashed to his sister, who seemed less certain that she would enjoy such a thing, and then to his brother before he shook his head.

“No, I think it would be better for everyone if I stayed where I am. As long as my presence is no trouble to Victoria and Justin.”

The two brothers locked gazes, and Caleb could see Justin's disappointment. Caleb turned away from it, ready to hear his brother shun him and force him to go to a place he did not desire, but instead Justin said, “Of course it's no trouble. And it is getting late now, so perhaps it is best to leave you settled where you are.”

Their mother's expression fell, but she nodded. “I suppose you are right. Everyone is in such high emotion, there is no reason to rush around changing what is working out. But if you change your mind—”

Before she could finish, Caleb bowed. “Of course. I will consider your offer.”

His mother's lips thinned, but she said nothing further even when his sister wrapped her arm around her gently. For a long moment the family stood in silence, but then Caleb shifted.

“Justin, might we return to your home now? I assume Victoria must be awaiting a report on how the day went.”

Justin nodded and Caleb almost felt badly for using his sister-in-law to force his brother's departure, but Victoria had been feeling ill that morning and hadn't accompanied the gentlemen to their meeting. He knew Justin was concerned for her health and wanted to check on her.

“Yes, we
should
return,” Justin conceded.

Their mother and sister escorted the two men downstairs. Caleb watched as Justin embraced each woman. Caleb wished he could be so unguarded, but instead he nodded his farewell to each and stepped outside.

He was surprised to find the sun setting. Time had slipped away from him today, as much as it ever had when he drank it away. Only he preferred the drinking, for it numbed the pain he felt so keenly at present. There was yet another reason to forget all these troubles and return to the carefree life he'd once led.

Stepping into the carriage, he let out a long sigh. His brother settled in across from him and the carriage rolled into motion.

“Caleb—” Justin began when they had moved along a few streets.

He lifted his gaze to Justin. “You are disappointed in me, there is no need to begin an entire treatise about it. I don't think I can bear it at present.”

Justin pursed his lips. “I'm not disappointed. Great God, Caleb, it was the first time you have seen our family since you found out the truth about yourself. To be honest, I expected much worse.”

Caleb laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Did you think I would enter the house and scream out the truth from the foyer, demand satisfaction, perhaps challenge someone,
anyone
to a duel?”

Justin shrugged. “There was much I feared. But instead you remained quite calm about the entire situation.”

Caleb shut his eyes as he thought of the jumbled images of his time with his family. “Our sister holds a great deal of resentment toward me.”

Justin nodded. “She, like everyone else, knows nothing of the circumstance which caused you to leave so abruptly. Tessa thinks you abandoned our family and yes, she is angry about it, despite my attempts to defend you since your departure.”

“Well, I appreciate your efforts, even if they were fruitless.” Caleb rubbed his eyes.

“If you want to end her anger, I suppose you could tell her the truth,” Justin said after a pause, his voice barely carrying.

Caleb jerked straight up and stared at his brother in shock. “Tell her? You and I have already discussed this. I have no intention of pursuing the truth of my birth, either by revealing that I know of it to anyone in our family or by making any attempt to uncover more about the particulars of it. You of all people should know why that isn't prudent or even possible. You kept this secret for years.”

“For all the good it did us,” Justin said with a shake of his head. “I deserve your rage for keeping what I knew from you. You, of all people, deserved to know it.”

Caleb looked at his elder brother for a long time. They had been best friends as much as siblings over the years. During his time away, he had missed his brother, even when he was furious at him.

“I
was
angry at you in the beginning,” he admitted softly. “Perhaps that anger even lingered beyond my initial shock. I couldn't comprehend, no matter how I tried, why you would keep me in the dark about who I am. Why you wouldn't simply confront the truth head-on and be done with it. But after today . . .” He trailed off as he remembered his father's sickly cough and his drawn face. “After today I'm more determined than ever to pack the past away and forget about it.”

“I still worry about this ‘solution' you propose,” Justin said softly. “It may not be as easy to put away your emotions as you believe. I would hate to see you put on a path to destruction.”

Caleb choked out a laugh though he felt no good humor. “Even before I knew I wasn't my father's son, I was well on my way to destruction, Justin.”

“That isn't true,” Justin said softly.

“No?” Caleb tilted his head. “How many times did you pay out my debts? Or help me escape an angry husband who discovered his wife was philandering with me?”

Justin shrugged. “It isn't the same thing.”

“Perhaps not, but the fact is I was never a saint, Justin.” He smiled, a thoroughly false expression. “And I look forward to returning to those wicked ways again. At least when I destroyed myself with pleasures, I didn't hurt any innocents in the process.”

He flashed briefly to an image of Marah, but immediately pushed that thought aside. At all costs, he had to forget what they had shared as much as he should forget what he knew about himself. That was what she required and it was for the best, even if it currently seemed like an impossible task.

“Perhaps you're right,” Justin conceded with a shrug. “Perhaps you'll be able to simply pack away the emotions that have chased and tormented you for two years. Perhaps within weeks you will be as carefree as you once were and I won't worry about you any longer.”

“You don't sound very certain,” Caleb said with an arched brow.

Justin shook his head. “I hope I'm wrong to hesitate, but I still believe you deserve the answers you refuse to seek. And that until you have them, you won't be able to forget what you know about yourself and what has happened in the past.”

Caleb was silent for a long moment as his brother's words sank in. He feared Justin was correct, though he wouldn't ever state that out loud.

“It doesn't matter,” Caleb finally replied as the carriage moved into the drive of Justin's home and slid to a stop. He fumbled for the handle of the door even before the footman could reach it. “After a few drinks all of this will be numbed. And numbness will have to suffice.”

Chapter 5

M
arah tightened her wrap around herself as she moved through the cold halls toward the library. In the three hours since she retired to her chamber, sleep had not come to her, no matter how many old tricks she employed to invite it. Counting sheep, drinking warm milk, drinking
brandy
. . . none of it had done any good. She had still lain in her bed, staring at the filmy canopy above, her jumbled thoughts swirling in her head.

The topic of her thoughts was the most troubling part of her sleeplessness. She wasn't worrying for Victoria, who had been ill that morning, though she seemed recovered enough by the afternoon. She wasn't thinking about Emerson and the fact that he had sent word he would soon call on her. She wasn't even thinking of London or planning all the activities she would do and people she would see while here.

No, the thoughts clouding her mind were all about one person and one person only. Caleb.

He and Justin had returned home from their family's estate in London around supper time. Marah knew that because she had been sitting in a front parlor pretending to sew, when in reality she had been staring out the window waiting for them.

She'd had no time to talk to Caleb, though, for he had gone directly to his chamber and hadn't come back down, even for food. She had no gauge of how he was doing or feeling about seeing the man he had called father up until two years ago.

But if Justin's behavior was any indication, the visit had been a painful one. The earl only picked at his meal, lost in an uncharacteristic melancholy that made Marah even more fearful about what had occurred that day. But she was too afraid to ask Justin about his brother's well-being. It was as if stating her concerns out loud would make her unwanted feelings toward Caleb all the stronger.

And she
did
still feel those old unwanted feelings. There was empathy in her heart for him and sorrow for the pain she knew he suffered. And then there were
other
emotions that she violently shoved aside as she pushed the door to the library open and came into the dark, cold room.

In the grate, a low fire had burned away almost to nothing, but it still gave Marah enough light to see some of the shelves as she crossed to them. She needed the most dry, boring tome she could find. Certainly that would put her to sleep and banish thoughts of Caleb at last.

She squinted through the darkness as she scanned the titles. This one was too interesting, that one too exciting. Goodness, this one was definitely too naughty!

She turned to face another high shelf and continue her quest when a slight movement from the chair beside the fire caught her eye. She wrinkled her brow and moved closer to inspect what she had seen. Was that a cat? The movement repeated and she jumped in surprise as her eyes adjusted further and she realized it wasn't a pet, but a person who shifted in the darkness. The very person whose unwanted image had kept her up half the night.

Caleb sat beside the fire, slouched down low in the chair so that he almost faded entirely into the darkness.

She lifted a hand to her chest as if the touch could soothe her suddenly pounding heart.

“I didn't see you there,” she said when the glittering flash of his bright stare made her realize he was fully aware of her presence. “You frightened me.”

He said nothing in return but inclined his head slightly as if acknowledging her statement. Marah pursed her lips in frustration at his lack of reaction. She didn't like that he was in the darkness, his expression hidden by shadow.

“Let me give you more light,” she said with false sweetness as she turned toward the hearth.

She grabbed a small log from the bin and tossed it onto the grate. Immediately the smoldering coals caught the dry wood and a flash of light filled the room. She turned toward Caleb, who was squinting at the renewed brightness, but the instant she did, her irritation toward him faded.

His expression spoke volumes about his heart, probably more than he wished to share, especially with her. But there it was, all over his handsome face whether he intended to reveal so much or not.

Marah's grandmother had been a healer in their village, a midwife, and at her side Marah had seen heartbreak before. But this emotion in Caleb's eyes went beyond that, deeper into something with far more despair. There was no hope on his face, only pain and utter surrender to the idea that nothing would . . . or perhaps
could
ever get better.

“What do you want?” he slurred as he lifted his eyes to her.

Marah pursed her lips. Even if she hadn't noticed the empty bottle of whiskey on the floor beside his chair, his surly tone made it clear that Caleb had been drinking. And his glassy eyes ended any doubt she might have had about his inebriated state. The rational part of her reminded her that a drunken man was a dangerous man, especially in his highly emotional state. She should leave him in peace and forget what she saw.

But she couldn't do that. She didn't want it to, but his quiet sorrow touched her and she couldn't help but edge closer to him.

“M-may I sit with you?” she whispered.

He arched a brow, but then jerked his head toward the chair opposite his. She took her place quietly and tilted her chin to look at him more closely.

“I thought you wouldn't
want
to sit with me, Miss Marah Farnsworth,” he said with a shrug. “We are but mere acquaintances, are we not?”

Marah drew back. So her words the previous night had somehow struck home with him, though she didn't know why. He hadn't wanted her before, she had no idea why he would suddenly decide he wanted her now. Pride was the only thing she could think of. Somehow her rejection the day before had stung his pride.

“I wouldn't be able to abandon an acquaintance who was in the state you are in.” She looked at him. “Even if it was only for one night, I would offer to be a friend. I think you need one.”

“A friend,” he mused as he slid his chair just a little closer to hers. It was a slight movement, one that might even be explained away, but Marah still stiffened at it. And stiffened further when he added, “I have pictured you in every way imaginable over the years, but the last way I would ever see you was as my
friend
, sweet.”

Marah's breath caught in her throat at the openly flirtatious tone of Caleb's voice and the forward words he had chosen when addressing her. It was entirely inappropriate, especially given that she had specifically said she didn't want him so close. But it still thrilled her.

Immediately she hated herself for being moved by such a simple, silly charm that Caleb Talbot had been turning on women since he was out of short pants. His words were meaningless and she knew it. She didn't want to be one of those foolish girls who threw propriety and good sense to the wind at the empty compliment of a handsome gentleman. Over the years she had come to know that she required more stability than that.

She cleared her throat and decided to ignore his statement. “You and Justin were out for a long time today. I assume that means you finally saw your father.”

The dark flirtatiousness to Caleb's expression faded away instantly and the sorrow she had been so drawn to at first returned.

“I saw the marquis, yes,” he said with a slow nod.

Marah shut her eyes briefly. Her own father had walked away from her the moment her birth caused the death of his wife. His only contact with her after that was a large sum of money deposited in an account to maintain her comfort and provide for her future.

After his death, his family had continued that tradition of basic monetary support, but a lack of love or attention. She had longed to know more about them, to ask why they couldn't love her, even a tiny bit. Even now, she wondered about the other family she didn't know. If they knew she was in London. If they gave a damn.

Yes, she knew a great deal about loss and regret. But that wasn't something she'd ever shared with anyone else, even Caleb in those open, heated moments of two years before. Perhaps
especially
Caleb.

There were some pains she kept private.

She leaned forward slowly, draping her elbows over her knees. Now their heads were less than half a foot apart and she could smell the warm, clean fragrance of his skin. She shivered and refocused on her attempt to help him, rather than the unwanted and surprising desire to do far more wicked things.

“The marquis
is
your father, Caleb,” she whispered.

His gaze snapped to her face and anger briefly flashed there. “You know damned well he isn't. We both may wish to forget what happened between us that afternoon, but you can't deny what I confessed to you.”

Marah nodded, recalling how pained Caleb had looked when he told her he had discovered the marquis wasn't really his father. She had thought she would never again see him so broken.

She was wrong.

“Of course I remember,” she whispered. Her hand stirred but she forced herself to keep it in place rather than touch his fingers or his cheek in comfort. That was too familiar. Too dangerous. “What I meant is that a father is the man who raised you and loved you. The blood you share or don't share is often an entirely separate issue.”

Certainly it had been in her own case.

“Perhaps,” Caleb said softly, but his expression softened somewhat. The edge of his pain was muted by her words, but it was only brief, not a lasting ease.

They sat quietly for a few moments, the only sound in the room the crackling of the wood as it burned down lower in the coals. Marah was surprised that the silence between them was not uncomfortable or uneasy. In fact, that realization put her on edge. She shouldn't feel comfort of any kind with this man. He was not one to be trusted with such things.

She pulled back a little. “I realize this is difficult,” she began, ready to offer some platitude and then depart.

“It is,” Caleb said before he covered his face with his hands. His head dipped down, his shoulders slumping in such defeat that Marah felt the effect of it. “Marah, he is dying. He is dying and the past hangs between us. No matter how much I want to forget, seeing him today made that so terribly, painfully clear.”

She was no longer able to keep herself from reaching for him. When she took his hand, his fingers closed around hers, clinging to her like she was a lifeline that had been tossed to him on a stormy sea. He looked at her, but his eyes were wild and she strove to find some words that would soothe him.

“But Caleb, you are here now. You still have time with him and that is a gift. Take comfort in the fact that you didn't come home too late.”

“Sometimes I fear I am too late, though,” he whispered. His voice cracked in the dim quiet. “We've been distant a long time. Even before I knew the truth and ran from it, our interactions were strained and forced. What if I can't recapture a relationship with him before he is gone?”

Marah stared at him. She had never expected Caleb to expose so much of his soul to her. The one and only time he had done so before was an anomaly. Or so she had thought. But here he was, spilling his heart, if only because the bottle had loosened his tongue.

“All you can do is try,” she finally said as she cupped his face gently.

He didn't answer. Instead his fingers came up and he touched her hair. At first the touch was questing, almost questioning, but when Marah couldn't find her voice to resist, his fingers moved into the locks and tugged, moving her toward him.

She could hardly breathe as his mouth moved closer and closer. He was going to kiss her and she wanted him to. She wanted him to do that and so much more. She blinked as the full ramifications of that desire hit her.

With difficulty, she turned her face and his lips brushed over her cheek instead of her mouth. She shuddered even at that touch and got to her feet.

“W-we agreed to forget the past,” she whispered, staying back from him as she adjusted her shawl so that he wouldn't see her body's traitorous response to him. Her nipples were hard against her nightshift; she was sure they would be outlined clearly if she dropped the protection of the heavier wrap.

His gaze came up to her, dark and angry, as well as needy and filled with want. “Yes, we did.”

“Acquaintances don't kiss,” she said, lifting her hand to her cheek where his lips had touched her. Could someone be branded by a kiss? She feared she might be.

He arched a brow. “Don't they? I have several lady acquaintances I once kissed regularly.”

She winced at his cold statement. But she was glad for it, too. It reminded her that to him, she was really no different than any other woman whom he might drown his sorrow in. The fact that he had tried to kiss her tonight hadn't been about love or tenderness.

Caleb had always been about need, especially when it came to her. He saw her as a way to fill a void, to forget a pain, but when the need passed, he was far too willing to let her go.

“Then perhaps you should find one of those women to help you,” she murmured, her tone lacking any heat of anger. She surprisingly felt none, though the idea of Caleb making love to someone else turned her stomach.

“Is that what you want?” he asked as he pushed to his feet, though he didn't advance on her. He simply stood, staring at her, his bright blue eyes holding her hostage.

She shrugged. “It would be wrong of me to confuse matters between us. I can't be your comfort, Caleb. Not like this, not again. Now if you will excuse me, I shall return to my chamber where I belong. Good night.”

She didn't wait for his response. All she could do was hurry from the room. It was only when she was halfway up the stairs that she realized she had never found a book to bore her into slumber. But it didn't matter. She had a feeling that even the most tedious tome couldn't help her now. And if she by some miracle found the rest she desired, her dreams would be of one thing and one thing only: