James’s face tightened back in anger. "You have a real cruel streak, Calliope Minton. Thomas Landes is one of the more vicious caricaturists. Let’s go. You will remain in your townhouse while I seek out Holt."
Calliope was drained, her emotions too raw to argue, so she allowed him to lead her to the carriage waiting at the end of the street.
The ride home was tense and silent. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as miserable.
They walked to the door.
"I don’t want you stepping a foot outside this house. Understood?" James said it as he was turning around to go back to the carriage.
"My lord. You must come inside." One of the footmen made an urgent motion toward the hall.
James frowned, but the uncharacteristic, jerky motions of the footman must have convinced him because he followed.
"Upstairs, quickly. "
Something was wrong. Calliope ran to keep pace with the two men as they vaulted up the stairs.
They reached her room and the footman opened the door. Suddenly Calliope didn’t want to look in, afraid that a loved one’s still body might be inside.
The sharp intake of breath from James caused her to look around him.
Stephen was lying prone on her bed, white as death.
Chapter 15
"Stephen!" Calliope said as they rushed to his side.
Stephen was haggard, his face damp with unhealthy perspiration. He didn’t acknowledge Calliope’s cry; his lashes lay still on his cheek. James nudged her aside and ran fingers around Stephen’s face. Stephen’s heartbeat was strong and his chest rose normally.
"He’s alive. Where has he been?"
" A street urchin brought him in a hack, my lord. She made certain he was brought in, then she took off before we could detain her. Slippery little thing. And the driver couldn’t tell us anything."
James looked down at Calliope and saw tears running down her cheeks. She looked as if her life depended on Stephen waking up and speaking.
"Have you called a doctor?" he asked one of the footmen.
"No, milord, he arrived minutes before you returned. I wasn’t sure if that was what you would want, what with everyone thinking he was dead and all."
James nodded. "Good."
Calliope looked at him, aghast. "James, we must call a doctor. Look at him. He’s at death’s door."
"Stephen’s heartbeat is steady. Quite frankly, I’m more concerned that whoever did this to him will try to finish the job if they know he is alive."
Calliope stood and poked him in the chest, punctuating her words. "I can’t believe you are going to let him lie here unattended. We don’t know the extent of his injuries and if he catches fever, he may die."
"An hour or two should not matter. " He turned to see Grimmond in the doorway holding blankets. "Grimmond, cover him and have the lads warm bricks. Have Cook prepare broth that can be spooned down his throat when he awakens."
James looked into Calliope’s eyes. "I need to talk to Holt first and determine his involvement in this whole affair. Then we will call a doctor. Holt has contacts everywhere and I don’t know any medical man who wouldn’t be inclined to talk to him if pressured. Believe me, Stephen would want it this way."
"Fine, then leave."
She dismissed him and went back to tending her patient. She made soothing noises and spread her fingers across Stephen’s brow. She had betrayed him and was now acting as if their roles were reversed. James felt like shaking her. He remembered his words to her outside.
"She is not to leave this house," he ordered the footmen.
He saw her body tighten, but she made no comment as James headed for the door.
There was no use staying here and trying to appeal to her. His time would be better used questioning Holt. James knew when he had been abandoned.
Calliope’s emotions caught up with her for the second time, and she allowed them to spill. What a watering pot she was becoming. When she had spotted Stephen, it was like having an old friend return in the middle of a crisis. He was her lifeline. But all she really wanted was for James to return. Foolish of her.
Seeing that caricature had brought reality back like a slap in the face. James was the Marquess of Angelford, nobleman and lover. Not Mr. James Trenton, friend and suitor.
And what was this about her being cruel? She wasn’t cruel. She was just… She just gave what she got. They deserved it.
She hated the nobility. Didn’t she?
Sleep. Maybe it would bring a new perspective. She would definitely feel better after a nap.
Calliope made Stephen comfortable and drew up a small armchair and quilt.
She wished Deirdre were here. She needed her sister’s advice and comfort. But Deirdre wasn’t there, so Calliope sank into the soft fabric and laid her head against the cushions.
When had things gone so wrong? When had life become so complicated?
Calliope stared at the ceiling, too tired to sleep. Why had she created so many illustrations of James? Probably because she was already half in love before she knew him.
Being in constant proximity to him these past few days had only made her fall the other half of the way. And fall hard.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. Yes, she admitted to herself, she was in love with James Trenton, the Marquess of Angelford. And it hurt. He was not for her. He would never be for her.
She had proven inept in proper society when allowing her real personality to show. She wasn’t cut out for their circles. The Killroys’ ball-what a travesty. It had been quite an awful experience to live through, but she had rendered a bucketful of marketable caricatures. And she had retained her dignity.
Thank goodness for Terrence. If he hadn’t lent her his carriage she would have been forced to walk the entire way home that night. And walking home would have been…
Calliope bolted straight up. Terrence’s card. The ornate one with the seal that had slipped from his pocket. She had dismissed it as the seal of his father’s baronetcy. No wonder the falcon ring design had seemed familiar. She had seen its like before.
From where had Terrence gotten the seal? Calliope jumped off the seat, wiped her cheeks and hurried to change. She had to question Terrence and she had better dress as Margaret Stafford.
With renewed energy, Calliope changed into an outdated outfit and grabbed her father’s cane. If anything untoward should happen, it would be a useful weapon. Not that Terrence was in the least threatening. No, he had probably unknowingly picked the card up. Calliope just needed to find out from whom he had gotten it.
She checked Stephen, satisfied he was breathing comfortably and pleased he had regained some color. The errand would take little time and he would be safely guarded. Servants were frequently checking on his progress. As she hurried to the door, she remembered James’s orders to the footmen. They wouldn’t allow her to leave. They would heed James’s directives.
She headed for the study. She would be able to climb out the first-floor window without difficulty. Oddly she was not interrupted on the way. Once there, she opened the window, hiked her skirts and shimmied into the bushes, pulling the cane and her reticule behind her. She sprinted around the side of the house and edged her way to the street. It was broad daylight. She hurried before anyone from the house spotted her.
No alarm was sounded as she hailed a hackney rambling down the street. Unfortunately, there would be no one to accompany her.
As a result of her research she knew Terrence’s rented house was in a less prosperous district of town. She had kept tabs on a number of people in the ton. But what would she use as her excuse for going to his house? It was unseemly for an unaccompanied woman to meet with an unmarried gentleman at his residence.
The hackney pulled up to a charming but shabby old building twenty minutes later. Calliope paid the driver and used her cane to maneuver up the drive. She was suddenly glad she had brought it with her. Her leg had started aching a bit last night and it had gotten progressively worse with the stress of the day.