Deirdre shoved a scone into Calliope’s hands and unsteadily poured more tea into her cup.
"Well, you are coming home with me, and that’s that. How long will it take you to pack?"
"Really, Dee, everything is fine. Stephen said-"
"No, I insist. I will bring reinforcements if you don’t comply."
"Deirdre, Calliope can stay here. I don’t think-"
"Stephen, you can’t be serious. There are bloodstains on the carpet. Bloodstains from dead bodies!" Deirdre was almost shrieking.
"She doesn’t have to stay in that room. She can have any room she desires. It’s her decision, Deirdre. She hasn’t said she wants to end our arrangement."
"I have to agree with Deirdre, Stephen," Robert said. "Your relationship and this arrangement can be sorted out later." He cast a quick look at James. Calliope hadn’t had the chance to tell Robert or Deirdre that James knew about the caricatures.
Calliope tried to rectify the slip. "Oh, by the way, he already-"
"You are in no shape to argue anything. Kidnappings, chases, fires, murders. Whatever is this world coming to?" Robert rolled right over Calliope’s statement, intent on winning the battle with Stephen.
Calliope went back to sipping her tea and listening to them argue. It didn’t matter if the whole tale came out now or later.
From his chair across the room, James watched the four of them clustered together arguing. Like a family, relaxed, friendly and comforting, kindred spirits bickering at each other and then smoothing ruffled feathers. He felt like an outsider. He didn’t belong.
Stephen had said she could have any of the rooms she desired. Any included his. She hadn’t said no.
The room was suddenly oppressive. He needed air. No, he needed a smoke. He rooted through the desk for the cheroot he had seen when searching earlier in the week. He seized it and racked his brain for the last time he had smoked one.
The Killroys’ ball.
James stood abruptly. The movement interrupted their squabbling. Four pairs of eyes stared at him.
"I’m going out for a second."
He left the room quickly and headed out the front door.
He lit the cheroot and leaned against the stone. Fresh air. Well, fresh London air, at least. He inhaled and the smooth smoke caressed his throat.
The door opened and Stephen poked his head out.
"You all right?"
"Yes, go back inside with the others. I’ll be in soon."
Stephen frowned but didn’t argue and the door was shut once more.
James couldn’t sort his emotions or think straight. Being outside didn’t help. Smoking didn’t help. Maybe a scotch would help.
It was time for him to leave.
He started down the walk and then stopped. His coat was inside the foyer. He could grab it and leave without anyone being the wiser.
James didn’t like the sudden creeping thought that said he was being a coward. He just didn’t want to interrupt their reunion. That was all.
He opened the door and stepped inside. His coat was on the table. The staff was still in an uproar and things were scattered to and fro.
James snatched his coat. He wasn’t going to look in the study.
The door was partially opened.
He looked.
"Oh, Stephen, thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me."
Calliope was hugging Stephen hard. James could see tears running down her face.
Something broke in his chest.
He didn’t belong here.
James blindly found his way out of the townhouse and into his carriage. He needed a scotch-a big glass of it.
"Oh, Stephen, thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me." Love and sadness coursed inside her. The first paragraph of the first letter was all she had needed to turn into a watering pot.
"Well, you can thank Robert too. It was a joint effort. Poor boy braved the stews of London to get these for you."
"Can’t say it was a pleasant experience," Robert said.
Calliope looked at him quizzically. "Why did you have to go to the stews for my father’s letters?"
"Our plans went awry when everything else went awry. " Stephen shook his head. "Poor Robert was convinced Pamela, Lady Salisbury, was a fire-breathing dragon with a forked tail. And I was gone. He believed you when you said I’d left. I have always been one to up and disappear."
Robert snorted. "We’ll see next time."
Stephen smiled and ignored him. "And as it turns out, Pamela volunteered the letters."
A carriage clicked familiarly down the street. James had left. He hadn’t said goodbye. Calliope’s heart constricted and she looked at Robert. "I’m not sure there will be a next time. I have some thinking to do."
The three of them looked at her as one.
"Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. It’s just I’m not sure my heart is in the caricature business any longer."
"Never say that, my dear, you are too talented. Perhaps you just need a different subject." Robert cast her a knowing glance. Calliope just shook her head, unable to respond.
Deirdre jumped up. "I think we should be going. I’ll be back to help you pack in a few hours."
Deirdre had always been able to read Calliope’s moods. She had probably heard the carriage leaving and correctly assessed the situation.
.
"Thanks, Dee. Tell everyone I’m fine and I’ll see them tonight."
Deirdre gave her a big hug. "Come, Robert, let’s be off."
Robert sent Calliope a concerned look, but she waved him off and he followed Deirdre out the door Calliope turned to Stephen. "What’s going to happen to Lady Flanders? She was the one we overheard in the Pettigrews’ rose garden, arguing with Curdle."
Stephen brushed a hand through his hair.
"Roth is taking care of her. We don’t know how deep a hand she had in the whole affair. Depending on the outcome, prison, maybe being shipped across the Atlantic. She may have targeted only you, or she may have been aware of all of Flanders ’s schemes. Roth will find out."
"Stephen, I have to ask. Why didn’t you tell me you knew my father?"
Stephen hesitated. "I thought I had plenty of time to broach the subject. Robert told me you believed your father abandoned you."
"Yes.".
"Robert approached me with your masquerade plans. He was privy to just enough information to know I’d been involved with your father. When he presented the idea of helping you out, I immediately accepted." Stephen smiled. "Had I known earlier that you were alive, I would have figured some way to approach you before."
Calliope squeezed his hand.
"After learning that you thought Salisbury had abandoned you, I convinced Robert you were mistaken. We devised a plan to share some of his letters with you. Something to convince you of his love."
"Why didn’t you just tell me?"
"You had spent years convincing yourself otherwise. Again, I thought I had time. Time to make it easier for you." Stephen shook his head. "As to the other, the only way to get his letters was to approach his mother. We had to tiptoe around Lady Salisbury, so as to not give away our plans. Pamela isn’t a bad person, but she was always too protective and possessive when it came to her only child. She was frightened of you and your mother, and your relationship with her son."
Calliope nodded. "I finally figured that out."
Stephen looked at her cautiously. "She gave the letters freely. And she wrote one of her own. I don’t know what it says, but it’s at the bottom of the pile."
"What a mess."
Stephen looked cheerful. "Yes, relationships often are."