A Scoundrel's Surrender (6 page)

Caleb's touch and all the pleasure he would have given her if she hadn't pulled away from him.

Chapter 6

C
aleb groaned as he entered the breakfast room. Late morning sunshine poured through the windows and he squinted his bloodshot eyes to block the light, even as his head pounded and his stomach churned. As he staggered toward the side bar, he searched for a pot of tea or, God willing, coffee, but found the area to be empty.

A door opened behind him and Justin's butler, Crenshaw, stepped into the room on nearly silent feet. “I apologize, sir, the breakfast dishes were cleared away an hour ago, but the kitchen would be happy to prepare you some eggs or anything else you desire.”

Caleb sucked in a breath as nausea overwhelmed him. “God, no eggs,” he moaned as he took a seat at the table and rubbed his temples in an unsuccessful attempt to quell their throbbing. “And please do stop shouting, Crenshaw.”

The butler's eyebrow slowly arched, but he gave no other outward reaction to Caleb's demand. Instead he lowered his tone and said, “Of course, sir. Then what
could
I fetch for you, sir?”

Caleb covered his eyes. “Coffee.”

“A slice of toasted bread might also help to calm your stomach, Mr. Talbot,” the butler suggested.

Caleb nodded without looking at the other man. “Bread. Good. Thank you.”

As the servant stepped away, Caleb let his head drop onto his arms on the tabletop. It had been a long time since he'd had a drunk powerful enough to bring on such queasiness. He'd almost forgotten how awful the feeling was.

He could scarce remember the previous night, except for one awful part: Marah coming to him. He had almost kissed her,
that
he recalled with perfect clarity. He'd been close enough to feel her breath on his cheek and see her eyes dilate with a desire as powerful as his own. But that desire hadn't been fulfilled because Marah had rejected him.

The thought of her made his head pound harder and the room spin even faster. With a moan, Caleb burrowed his head further into his arms. Another drink was probably the only thing that would cure this feeling, but the idea turned his stomach even more.

“There you are,” a voice said from behind him. It was female and it sounded like the screech of a bird of prey to his sensitive ears.

Lifting his head, Caleb turned to find Victoria leaning in the doorway. Her arms were folded and she looked him up and down with a delicate sniff that spoke volumes of what she thought of his current state.

“And don't you look a sight,” she continued as she stepped into the room. “I hope whatever you did last night was worth the pain you must be experiencing now.”

Caleb rubbed his eyes. “I don't remember.”

“That's the trouble, isn't it?” his sister-in-law asked softly. “Burying yourself in spirits means you don't remember, but you never fully forget, either.”

He nodded. “So true, my lady.”

She folded her arms. “But now that you are finally awake, I think it would do you some good to join us for luncheon.”

“Luncheon?” Caleb repeated. “Is it that late?”

“Just past noon,” Victoria said with a nod.

He glanced toward the servant entrance to the room. “Er, Crenshaw arranged for me to have some coffee and some toasted bread.”

“Good, perhaps once you have had that, you'll be ready for hardier fare.” Victoria smiled. “I'll be certain whatever you have asked for can be brought to you in the Lilac Room, where we are having luncheon.”

Caleb shrugged. “I'm sorry, Victoria, but I'm not really in the mood—”

“We have a guest, Caleb,” she interrupted, her raised voice raking across Caleb's nerves. When he rubbed his throbbing eyes, she smiled slightly, which made him believe she might have done that on purpose. “
That
is why I am so persistent.”

“A guest?” Caleb stifled a groan at the idea of having to face anyone in his current state. He could hardly remain upright. “Then I'm certainly in no condition to join you. Look at me, Victoria.”

She arched a brow as she did so. “You
are
a wreck. Didn't Justin's valet help you?”

“It has been so long since I had a valet, I fear I appall him beyond measure.” He sighed. “And I may be beyond even his talents this morning.”

She stifled a laugh. “Wreck or no, I think you'll want to meet our guest. Once you do, I doubt your mind will be so focused on your sad appearance.”

Caleb's brow wrinkled. Although his head continued to ache, Victoria had piqued his interest. “Is that so?”

She nodded as she motioned toward the hallway. “It is. This person will be of great interest to you. Come.”

With a frown, Caleb pushed from the table and followed Victoria into the hallway. She was quiet as she escorted him down the hall to the Lilac Room, thus named because its terrace looked out over a blooming burst of beautiful lilacs Caleb and Justin's grandmother had planted there years before. Even from the hallway, Caleb could smell their fragrance through the open terrace door and it unexpectedly soothed him.

As they entered the space, Caleb came to a stop in the doorway. Seated on one of the settees was Marah, but she wasn't alone. Close beside her . . . far
too
close . . . was a man. Perfectly dressed and impeccably coiffed, he was as slick a gentleman as Caleb had ever seen.

Instantly Caleb hated him, even before he knew his name.

“Mr. Caleb Talbot, may I present to you Mr. Emerson Winstead,” Victoria said, her eyes locked on Caleb as she said each word. “Mr. Winstead, my brother-in-law.”

Winstead rose to his feet and extended a hand. “Ah, Mr. Talbot, a pleasure to meet you.”

Marah also rose and Caleb remained speechless as he stared at her.
This
was her beau? This—this dandy? As if she could read his thoughts, she returned his stare with an even and cool expression of her own.

“Caleb,” Victoria snapped after a moment of awkward silence had passed.

Caleb returned his attention to the man before him. With a smirk, he took the offering of his hand and they shook. “Mr. Winkles. Good to meet you.”

“Winstead,” Marah said softly. “And you needn't trouble yourself by joining us, Mr. Talbot. It's clear you aren't fully recovered from last night.”

He arched a brow as he settled into a seat. “My dear, I'm not certain I'll
ever
recover from last night.”

He winked at her and reveled in the blush that filled her cheeks. He liked that he forced her to recall their near-kiss with her “beau” sitting right next to her.

“No, no,” he continued with a wave of his hand. “I couldn't be a poor sport and not join you. I look forward to talking with your friend.”

Winstead returned to his place beside Marah and smiled, but Caleb could see there was as little warmth on the other man's face as there was in his own heart. He wondered at the cause. Did Winstead simply sense that Caleb wanted the same thing he so obviously did . . . or had Marah become so close to the other man that she had spoken of Caleb before?

He wasn't sure which answer he wished to be true.

“So, Watson,” he said. “I don't think I've ever met you before. You don't mix in our circles much, do you?”

“Winstead,” Victoria said with a smothered smile.

“It's quite all right,” Winstead said smoothly, though he never took his eyes off Caleb even when he spoke to Victoria. “No, Mr. Talbot, I'm afraid I haven't moved in your circles at all until very recently.”

Marah glared at Caleb. “Mr. Winstead is a self-made man. I so admire someone who takes the initiative to better themselves. What an intelligence and grace that must take.”

Winstead smiled at her, clearly taken with her compliment, though from her glare, Caleb could see it was directed more as a barb toward him than praise for her companion.

“Lady Baybary,” Winstead said. “Will your husband not be joining us, as well?”

Victoria shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. He was called away on urgent matters this morning.”

At that, Caleb turned his focus to his sister-in-law. “The marquis?” he asked, his heart leaping to his chest.

She shook her head. “No, not your father, Caleb. We would have woken you if that were the case. It was a matter with one of his investments.” Her smile was brief but warm before she continued, “I assure you he was very unhappy not to be able to join us.”

Winstead's brow wrinkled with displeasure, which he quickly smoothed from his face with an overly affable smile. “Of course I understand. Sometimes these things come up.”

“Ah,” Victoria said as the door opened and a servant signaled to her. “It appears our luncheon is ready. Shall we move to the tables outside?”

She motioned to the open terrace doors, and Winstead nodded as he got to his feet. Without hesitation he offered Marah an arm, and after a brief glance toward Caleb, she took it. He stared as the couple exited ahead of them.

“Breathe, Caleb,” Victoria said at his side. “You'll turn blue if you don't.”

He glared at her as he took her arm and followed the other two to the table. They were all seated, and within moments food began to arrive. Caleb hardly ate, partly because his stomach still churned, but also because he found himself distracted by his observations of Marah and her suitor.

He didn't like Winstead. He could admit that a lion's share of his feelings were because of the man's obvious intentions toward Marah, but that jealousy wasn't Caleb's only hesitation. Winstead was a dandy. The cut of his jacket was too fine, the colors he wore matched too perfectly. Caleb had always liked nice things, but he'd never been obsessed with fashion. He thought it odd if a man took too much time interested in his own image in the mirror.

There were far too many other things that caught his fancy. Like the young woman sitting beside Winstead. Marah kept her gaze purposefully away from Caleb, but he still sensed that she was aware of him. When he wasn't looking, he felt her stare on him, and when he was, she tensed.

“So, Wintergreen—” he began.

“Winstead!” both Victoria and Marah said at once, though Victoria's tone was filled with more humor than Marah's.

“—what is it you
do
that has made you a self-made man who Marah so admires?” he asked without correcting his mistake.

Winstead took a sip of wine before he answered, “My father was involved in shipping, Mr. Talbot. I took what little money I inherited from him when he died and invested it in more ships. Within a few years, I'm happy to say I had more than tripled my initial investment. Now I import and export several commodities for both private parties and the Crown. Slowly but surely, I'm gaining a reputation for myself.”

“And quite a fortune, I would imagine,” Caleb drawled.

Winstead looked at him, and again Caleb was struck by how very
unfriendly
the other man's eyes were when he looked at Caleb, despite his smile or his perfectly chosen and utterly polite words.

“Although I wouldn't be so uncouth as to talk about money at a table with ladies present, I admit my lifestyle is comfortable. All I'm missing now is a wife and family to share it with.”

As he said the final words, Winstead turned his head slightly and glanced at Marah. She pretended not to notice his regard, but her cheeks filled with color as she stared at her plate.

Caleb stared as his stomach churned even more furiously than it had earlier in the day. Victoria had said that Winstead was a suitor and that Marah was determined to like him, but he hadn't thought things had progressed so far with them that Winstead might be considering marriage. And from Marah's lack of reaction beyond a blush, this wasn't news to her. She was aware, or at least had guessed of the other man's desire to form a more permanent union with her.

And since he couldn't imagine Marah leading anyone on, that meant she was open to the future Winstead described. To becoming this other man's wife, to bearing his children.

Servants entered the room and cleared away the final dishes from their luncheon, but Caleb barely noticed their intrusion. He just couldn't tear his gaze away from Marah; he just couldn't stop picturing her in a wedding chapel pledging herself to another man, or in a bed waiting for another man's touch, or holding another man's child, or in the twilight of her years as another man's companion at the end of his days.

He saw all those things in the flash of a moment, and his hands shook with anger and jealousy that was powerful enough to take him by surprise.

“Thank you again for the lovely meal, my lady,” Winstead said to Victoria with a quick nod.

She smiled in response. “Of course, Mr. Winstead. And now are you two ready for our walk?”

Caleb straightened up. “Walk?”

It was Marah who turned toward him. Her eyes were narrowed as she said, “Victoria is playing chaperone for Mr. Winstead and me while we take a turn through Hyde Park.”

Caleb clenched his fists beneath the tabletop, even as he jolted out a quick nod.

Winstead got to his feet. “I'm very pleased to have met you, Mr. Talbot, and I hope we'll be able to repeat this again soon. After all, anyone who is an important acquaintance of Marah's must be equally so to me.”

Caleb pushed from the table and rose to his full height. “Well, I'd say Miss Marah and I are not mere acquaintances.”

Now Marah rose to her feet, her chair screeching across the floor loudly. “Caleb!” she snapped.

Neither man looked at her.

“No?” Winstead drawled, his expression never changing. “Well, even a
distant
friend of Marah's is of interest to me.”

“I'm sure,” Caleb said with a laugh that held no humor.

Marah moved toward the two men with a scowl. “Victoria, perhaps you could show Mr. Winstead to the foyer. I'll meet you both there in a moment. First I'd like to discuss something with Mr. Talbot.”