Page 68 of West End Earl
Yet against all odds, somehow the secrets remained safe. No one knew—so no one acknowledged his pain, and Cal couldn’t help resenting that. Which was illogical. Especially when he tried so hard all the damn time to maintain privacy.
Standing on the pavement with the sun warming his uncovered head, it occurred to him that he witnessed everyone else’s problems and ultimately found the solutions for them. But no one witnessed his messes. No one handled his problems. The two people who knew the details of this situation were overseeing the last stages of loading these carriages so they could leave.
Not that Cal necessarily wanted to live under the same roof as Phee. Fine, a masochistic part of him did. Because even if she hated him, at least she would be safe while she hated him. Seeing her caused a physical pain in his chest, and yet he ached for that moment when she appeared. Cal drank her in, savoring the sight because he knew he’d have mere seconds to do so.
As if on cue, Phee’s voice drifted through the doorway, and Cal turned to steal a look.
“Thank you, Nelson. This trunk stays with our carriage, not mixed with the rest of the luggage.”
The throaty timbre of her voice managed to both soothe and rile him. Phee stepped out the door and hopped lightly down to the street level, ignoring Cal entirely. Her waistcoat was apple green today. One he’d ordered with her in mind and then feigned a distaste for once it arrived. In the weeks since they’d left for Lakeview, she hadn’t cut her hair, and the sun played with the fluff of curls, creating colors he didn’t think had names yet, because they existed only in her.
Phee turned, caught him staring. These last few weeks, he’d made a habit of looking away, but now he didn’t. Not when there were precious few minutes left to soak her in. After a brief hesitation, Phee straightened her shoulders, as if preparing for some monumental task, then approached him with brisk strides. Cal stepped forward to meet her, but she stopped several feet away, out of reach in so many ways.
“I know none of this is easy, but I need you to remember one thing. Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”
His confusion must be plain on his face, but instead of explaining, she turned and left him staring after her. Curse him as a dog, but he couldn’t resist enjoying the sway of her little heart-shaped arse as she left him wanting for the thousandth time in recent weeks.
Sure, Phee had withheld knowledge of Emma’s pregnancy, but his indignation over that no longer felt so righteous. Not after he’d put her in the position of watching him play matchmaker to avoid marrying someone else—all because he hadn’t told his father to hang from the beginning. In fact, given his stellar track record for handling scandals, Cal had bungled things rather spectacularly. The accusation that he’d have handled it all differently if she’d still been Adam haunted him.
Cal couldn’t miss the feeling of déjà vu. There were so many instances from his childhood when he’d stood helpless as his mother loaded the carriages, leaving pain and tears in her wake as she chased her happiness or fled another betrayal from her husband. Cal hadn’t been enough of a reason for her to stay, and the hopelessness beating at his chest suggested not much had changed.
The emotion seemed to be his constant companion now. The pile of things he’d managed to ruin would crush an elephant at this point.
Emma had made one awful choice after another, all under his oblivious nose. Only Phee had seen everything and recognized a problem. Cal hadn’t had a hand in protecting Emma or her reputation.
Phee’s danger with Milton? Cal might have gotten her out of Town, but in the end, Phee had dealt with that too. All along, Phee had proved herself to be the best possible partner and friend to him, and he’d been too bullheaded to acknowledge when things weren’t well in hand.
In the end, everything had gone to hell despite Cal’s best efforts. The baron had demanded payment. Rosehurst was done waiting.
Everything was changing, and none of it for the better. The days when Cal and Adam could sit in the library drinking brandy and speaking honestly about problems were long gone. Phee’s quick mind and willingness to dive into solving a situation had been priceless, and he’d squandered it. He missed his lover, but above all, Cal missed their friendship.
And damn if Phee wasn’t the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, with her legs showcased in snug breeches and boots.
A movement to his right interrupted his shameless ogling.
Ethan arrived and surveyed the carefully orchestrated chaos with crossed arms. “Moving day, aye?”
Cal tried to answer, but the words stuck until he cleared his throat. “Yes. Emma and…Adam are taking a wedding trip. They’ve picked some tiny village by the sea to settle in for the time being. Newlyweds and their privacy, you know.”
The weight of Ethan’s gaze made the side of his face prickle, but Cal resolutely stared forward, refusing to look from the carriages, the trunks, and one redhead who directed it all.
“I don’ understand all of what’s happening here. But you look like you need a friend. You dine with us tonight,” Ethan said.
“I don’t think—”
“What part of that sounded like a choice?” Ethan interrupted.
Cal gave a huff of weak laughter. “Fine. I’ll be lousy company. You can’t say you weren’t warned.”
Ethan clapped a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “I’ll tell Lottie tae use the old china so I can throw things at your hard head if you get out of hand.”
The first genuine smile of the day crossed Cal’s face. “Fine.” Tonight he’d dine and mope. And tomorrow he had an appointment with Eastly to discuss Rosehurst and his daughter.
Miss Cuthbert had made friends at the house party but had not enticed a lover. The party hadn’t been a total matchmaking failure. As of this week, a few other women at the party were engaged. Miss Lillian Fitzwilliam and Lord Hornsby’s whirlwind romance was the talk of society. And Miss Georgina had somehow landed Gaffney. How the hell that had happened, Cal had no idea. He’d gently quizzed Gaffney during their meetings at Lakeview, but his grace hadn’t been forthcoming with personal information. The woman was mousy, quiet, and apparently irresistible to the young duke. And of course, the wholetonknew about Emma’s marriage to the unlikely Adam Hardwick.
Cal had failed. Spectacularly. He’d failed Emma. He’d failed Violet. But most of all, he’d failed Phee.
In every way. No wonder she showed no signs of forgiving him anytime soon.
