Page 76 of West End Earl
But no more. Cal brushed a finger over the polished wood, then placed it on the table.
He had an engagement to break and a life to reclaim.
At the Rosehurst home, Miss Violet Cuthbert sat on the same awful zebra-striped chaise where she’d been when he’d visited her the first time. Admittedly, she was pretty as a picture, reading the paper with her gown draping around her as she sat in a beam of sunlight streaming through the window. When the butler announced Cal, she jumped to her feet and met him in the middle of the room.
That was a far more eager greeting than he’d expected.
“Good morning, Miss Cuthbert. I wish I’d called under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I come bearing unpleasant news.” He grasped her fingers between them and looked her in the eye. “A gentleman never breaks an engagement, but I’ve discovered I’m less of a gentleman than I believed. You deserve a perfect match, and we both know I am not he—and you’re not mine. I’ve realized I am not willing to settle for less than happiness, and neither should you. I’m sorry, but I can’t and won’t marry you. Our fathers will have to find another solution to their wager.”
Miss Cuthbert shook her head, sending corkscrew curls swinging every which way. Cal’s stomach sank. Given how open they’d been about their lack of attachment, this was upsetting her far more than he’d expected. Perhaps she feared that Rosehurst would be impossible to deal with about this.
“Any way I can facilitate your happiness, I will. I’ll make introductions, get you invited to the highest functions. Whatever I can do.”
“You’re being so brave, presenting such a strong face. Milord, I’d never expect our engagement to go forward when your family has been dealt such horrible news. I read about it in theTimes. I don’t know how you’re maintaining your composure after such a loss. I only knew him through you, and I’m overwhelmed by how tragic it is.” With that impassioned declaration, Miss Cuthbert’s eyes went glassy blue with tears.
She was nearly crying, and Cal had no idea what the devil she was talking about.
“You read about it in theTimes?”
“Oh dear. You haven’t seen it?” With a flutter of hands and swirling skirts, she gathered the paper from the chaise and flipped pages until she found what she was looking for and thrust the newssheet at Cal. “Here. I wish they’d given him more print space, especially given his connection to a noble family.”
Deaths
Mr. Adam Hardwick, age 24, recently of London, died Monday of last week while on his wedding trip with his new bride, The Lady Emma Hardwick, at his side. His body was interred in the village of Warford, Northumberland, with services officiated by Rev. Charles Arcott. Mr. Hardwick leaves behind his loving wife to grieve his loss.
“They’d only just married,” Miss Cuthbert said in a broken whisper.
Cal’s knees were having a hard time supporting his body, so he let her guide him to sit on the ghastly zebra chaise. She sank beside him, patting his arm while he clutched the paper and read the words over and over.
Dead and buried. Gone. A tear slipped down his cheek and his nose went stuffy. Phee couldn’t be gone. Surely, the world wouldn’t be so cruel. Maybe it was silly, but Cal thought for sure that some part of him would sense it if Phee died. She’d taken so much of him with her, he’d have felt it if she’d simply ceased to exist.
Absolutely gutting. She couldn’t be gone.
Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.That was what she’d said.
Sanity and logic rushed in, drying his tears as he narrowed his eyes at the small print. If Phee had died and been buried already in Northumberland, there was no way in hell he’d find out by reading about it in someone else’s copy of theTimes. Emma would have written or sent a messenger.
None of this made sense. Even knowing the words weren’t true, Cal couldn’t stop reading the notice over and over. He’d probably recite it in his sleep during nightmares for the rest of his life.
“It’s only natural to be so distressed,” Miss Cuthbert said soothingly. “He was your dear friend and brother by marriage. This must have been quite a shock.”
“Yes,” Cal parroted. “Quite a shock.” That would forever remain in his mind as the understatement of the century. Gathering his thoughts, Cal set the paper aside and covered Miss Cuthbert’s fingers where they rested on his forearm. “I don’t know when I will return to London, but I can provide written introductions to all the best hostesses. It’s not much, but I’d like to help you achieve your dream of a love match.”
Miss Cuthbert squeezed his fingers. “Lord Carlyle, through all of this engagement nonsense, you’ve been a friend to me. I don’t look forward to dealing with my father’s disappointment, but I think this may be an opportunity for an honest discussion about the match I want.” She shrugged. “Who knows? This might be what forces my father to listen to me about my future.”
He smiled. “I hope the baron hears you and understands. You deserve more than apathy from a spouse. I hate to leave you like this and am very sorry to go back on my word. But I hope you understand that I have to go.”
“Your sister needs you, Lord Carlyle. Go to her.” A residual tear broke free of her bottom lashes as she nodded, sending those curls flying about again, but she wiped it away with a bright smile.
Cal donned his hat. “Goodbye, Miss Cuthbert. I hope the next time we meet it will be during happier times.”
Out on the street, Cal swung up onto Murphy and nudged him toward home. Phee was on the other side of the country yet had still managed to save his hide today. She’d even sent a sign with her whittled bird, whether that had been her intention or not.
One interview done, one more to go before he would be free to fly away too. The charade of Adam’s death must be maintained during the visit with Eastly, but Cal would take that particular meeting in his own territory.
He brought Murphy around an apple seller’s cart, then dodged a small dog yipping at a boy with a red ball. The gelding was a solid mount, capable of finding the best path through a crowded street. A lucky thing, because with a mind full of travel plans, the upcoming meeting with Eastly, and the memory of that awful moment when he’d seen the death notice, Cal’s focus wasn’t on the street.
A groom took Murphy when Cal arrived at home. Cal glanced at his pocket watch, then climbed the steps to his door two at a time. Father would arrive in an hour. That left barely enough time to confer with Kingston regarding packing and tie up a few loose ends before they set out for the coast.
