Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

The not-so-gilded cage…

C aleb’s eyes opened abruptly. Instantly, he was aware of two things: the hard earth beneath him and the complete darkness that surrounded him. Still, he sat up, lifting his bound hands gingerly to his head. Dried blood was crusted on his skin and in his hair. The taste of it lingered in his mouth.

“Ah, you’re awake. I wondered if perhaps they’d hit you a bit too hard.”

The voice in the darkness was one he recognized, but it was not at all one he had expected. “Lady Crowden?”

“And now, when it is far too late, you’ve developed the ability to recognize me in the darkness.” The words dripped with sarcasm and disdain.

Caleb moved his hands experimentally, testing the bonds that held him. “What is this about? I cannot imagine that even you would go to such lengths over the ridiculous misunderstanding between us.”

“No. I wouldn’t. Normally. But unfortunately, Mr. Stanford Williams has returned to town. Your former betrothed of your current betrothed, as it were. As I’m sure you are well aware, she jilted him on the day of their wedding causing an endless amount of embarrassment and ridicule to be heaped upon his head.”

“Perhaps if he’d been a better man—and a faithful one—she would not have felt the need to ‘jilt’ him as you put it.”

Her answering shrug was betrayed only by the sound of rustling fabric. “I suppose that is true enough. It does not change the fact that his reputation has suffered terribly after such a public rejection. In light of that, he’s decided that he must restore his reputation before seeking another wife in society. Of course, now he’s in even more dire straits because he had to marry outside his class in order to preserve his holdings—tainted with trade of all things. It’s positively horrific.”

Trade was so horrific, he thought, that Lady Crowden had been throwing herself at him despite the fact that he was more than simply tainted with an association to it. He’d been right in the thick of it. Regardless, Caleb remained silent and let her talk. The more she did so the more he could learn about his current situation and how the devil he might get out of it.

“Now, he wishes to marry again… and marry well. But he cannot do that without first taking the necessary steps to restore his own reputation, which Miss Ashton destroyed two years ago. That means, if you’re keeping up with the plot thus far, my lord, that Miss Ashton’s reputation must be destroyed. It’s rather a fait accompli that the destruction will be wrought by being abandoned at the altar by you!”

“And where do you fit into all of this? Clearly you cannot marry him as you already have a husband… but he’s been your lover before and I daresay is again?”

“Make no mistake, my lord. I might welcome him into my bed, but that doesn’t mean that I love him… I detest him,” she said. “But not as much as I loathe you.”

Ah, there it was. They’d finally dug through the layers of nonsense to get to the real heart of it. “All this because of wounded vanity and pride?”

“And money, my lord, at least for him. Surely you understand how marriage can impact one’s fortune. After all, weren’t you in London to find a bride so you could secure your own inheritance? While there is doubt amongst the matrons of society about why Miss Ashton elected to cry off, he will never be entertained as a serious suitor by any young woman of note until it is proven that she was the one at fault.”

“What are you getting out of this? As you said yourself, Mr. Williams is hardly such a bosom companion to you that you would willingly engage in such high-risk activities as the abduction of a lord to aid him in his schemes!”

Another rustle of satin from the shadows as she shrugged yet again. “I have many reasons, not the least of which is my husband. While he doesn’t mind that I enjoy carnal relations with other men, he does draw the line at being publicly embarrassed by my appetites. As for you, well, vengeance… spite, pettiness, scorn. You may call it anything you like,” she teased. “I simply want to be a thorn in your side, my lord. And in hers, as you’ve made it abundantly clear that your feelings for her go far beyond simply finding her ‘acceptable.’ In short, my lord, my aim is to keep you from marrying Miss Ashton to make you both miserably unhappy and to keep Stanford Williams from revealing the truth to my husband lest I be banished to the countryside for daring to satisfy my desires when he cannot… I will certainly not suffer such a fate because you went calf-eyed at the very sight of a self-styled spinster!”

“I have never in my life encountered such selfish, self-serving people as I have in this city. It corrupts everyone,” he said.

“And were you not self-serving when you delivered such a slight to me?” Lady Crowden snapped.

“Such a slight? You mean the fact that I had no wish to enter into an affair with a woman who was already wed? That is hardly a slight, madam!”

“No. Not that,” she responded dryly. “The slight I refer to was done to me when I noted the expression on your face as you gazed upon the lovely and youthful form of Miss Ashton. You were not simply willing, by virtue of honor, to be linked in scandal with her. You were pleased to be trapped into a marriage with her. I had, much to my chagrin, given you exactly what you wanted when you would not give me a second look. Why is that, my lord? I’ve often wondered what is happening in the confounding minds of men that makes youth and innocence preferable to skill and experience? Or is it that so many gentlemen simply prefer a woman in their bed who hasn’t the knowledge to recognize them as terrible lovers?”

“Your vanity is boundless! Has it never occurred to you, Lady Crowden, that it isn’t age, experience, or even appearance, but rather it is your character, or lack thereof, that renders you undesirable?” It was likely not the most intelligent of actions—challenging the woman who, at least on the surface of things, held his very life in her hands.

She didn’t pace the dimly lit room so much as she strolled the distance of it, back and forth, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Very few men, Lord St. Aiden, ever pay enough attention to a woman beyond her figure and acquiescence to notice their character… or lack thereof. Indeed, frequently acquiescence isn’t even deemed worthy of noting.”

Caleb didn’t bother to correct her. Firstly, because she wasn’t entirely wrong. Secondly, the woman was completely irrational. There would be no reasoning with her.

Lady Crowden continued. “The worth of a woman is a fleeting thing, my lord, based entirely upon beauty and fertility—two things only ever associated with youth. And even as lovely as your Miss Ashton is, the windows of opportunity for her are closing. After all, she’s past twenty, an unpardonable sin according to even the most aged roué. When you fail to turn up at the appointed time to wed your not-quite-fresh-faced beauty, it will leave her a pariah. With her reputation, she had limited prospects to start. Now she will have none. In short, she will suffer the same sort of embarrassment and insult that you have heaped upon me… being unwanted.”

Her rambling was no longer even pertinent. She was simply pontificating on her own interpretation of the world around her, one which would always allow her to be the victim in the narrative rather than the villain—a fact that could not be further from the truth.

“Do you think she will weep and sob over her lost, last chance?” Lady Crowden asked, almost gleeful at the prospect.

Caleb gritted his teeth. “I should think not. She has more dignity than that. And I should hate to think that I, even against my own will, would ever have caused her tears.”

Lady Crowden gaped at him in shock for a moment. Then she tossed her head back and laughed, almost maniacally. “Should I honestly believe that you are this much of a paragon?”

“I’m far from a paragon, but I do strive to never be the villain,” he countered. “Clearly, that’s an unfamiliar concept to you.”