Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (14 page)

For a fleeting moment, he considered what it would be like to kiss the skin there. The scene at the Allendale ball earlier in the evening had confirmed his suspicions that Lady Calpurnia Hartwell was an eager and passionate woman. Her responses were irresistibly uninhibited—so different from those of the women he usually partnered—he couldn’t help but wonder how she would react to his touch in other, more scandalous places.

What was she doing here?

She could be discovered at any moment, by any number of people with connections to London society—she was in St. James, for God’s sake! If that weren’t enough, she had also entered the tavern alone, without protection; were she discovered by the wrong sort of man, she could find herself in a very serious and unpleasant situation. He noticed she held a square of paper firmly in both hands, as if it were a talisman. Could it be a love letter? Was it possible she was meeting a man here?

Of all the irresponsible things she could have done, this might well be the most rash. She tucked the parchment into the pocket of her cloak as a barmaid approached.

“I shall have a whiskey please. A scotch whiskey.”

Had he heard her correctly? Had she just calmly, from her position alone at a darkened table in a London tavern at an ungodly hour, ordered a scotch as though it were the most normal thing in the world?

Had the woman taken leave of her senses?

One thing was certain. He had entirely misjudged little Callie Hartwell. She was most definitely not the appropriate sponsor for Juliana. He’d been looking for a woman of impeccable character and, instead, he had found Callie, who calmly ordered whiskey in London taverns.

Except—

Except there was nothing calm about her. His eyes narrowed as he watched her carefully. She was as stiff as a board. Her breathing, which he measured by the rise and fall of her shoulders, was uneven and shallow. She was nervous. Uncomfortable. And, yet, here she was, in a place he could have told her would make her both of those things. Why? He was going to have to ask her. To confront her. And he knew she wasn’t going to enjoy it.

The barmaid returned with the drink, and Callie paid for it; Ralston noticed she included a handsome addition for the woman’s service. When the server left, he leaned forward to watch as Callie lifted the glass and took a long whiff of the alcohol within. He couldn’t see her face, but he saw her physically recoil with a single harsh cough, shaking her head as if to clear it before repeating the action. This time, she restrained herself from an obvious response, but from the way she bent her head to address the glass, he could tell she was skeptical of the beverage. It was clear she’d never had a drop of scotch in her life. After several moments of her investigation, during which she appeared to be debating whether or not she should drink, Ralston could no longer contain his curiosity.

“That is what you get for ordering whiskey.”

Callie nearly dropped the glass. Ralston couldn’t help feeling a touch vindicated by that. It served the chit right.

She had turned instantly toward him, scotch jostling violently in her glass, and he rose to move to join her at her table.

He gave her credit for quickly recovering from her surprise enough to respond, “I suppose I should have guessed you would be here.”

“You will admit, a lady of good breeding requesting a recommendation for a tavern is not exactly the most common of occurrences.”

“I suppose not.” She looked back at her glass. “I do not suppose I could convince you to return to your table and pretend that you never saw me?”

“I am afraid that would be quite impossible. I could not leave you alone here. You could easily find yourself in a compromising situation.”

She gave a half laugh. “I find that difficult to believe, my lord.”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Are you honestly unable to see the damage that your being found alone here would do to your reputation?”

“I would imagine that the damage would be significantly less than that of being discovered here with you.” She gave a little wave, indicating the rest of the tavern. “There are plenty of unaccompanied ladies here.”

Ralston’s eyes darkened. “I highly doubt that those particular ‘ladies’ expect to remain unaccompanied.”

She did not immediately take his meaning, furrowing her brow in confusion. When, after a few seconds, understanding dawned, she looked to the unattached women around the pub and then back to him, wide-eyed. He nodded, as if to confirm her suspicions.

She gasped, “But—I am not…”

“I know.”

“I would never—”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment of her words. “It begs the question…Why are you here?”

She was silent long enough for him to think she might not answer the question. Then she said, “If you must know, I am here to drink scotch.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Forgive me if I do not believe you.”

“It’s true!”

“It does not take a master investigator to see that you are not a scotch drinker, Lady Calpurnia.”

“It’s true,” she repeated.

He gave an irritated sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Really,” he said, as though it was nothing of the sort.

“Yes!” She grew indignant. “Why is that so difficult to believe?”

“Well, first, I can assure you that the scotch at Allendale House is likely legions better than whatever swill they’ve given you here. So why not simply have a drink there?”

“I want to drink here. I find the atmosphere…engaging.”

“You didn’t even know here existed until two hours ago,” he pointed out.

She was silent. Realizing she was not going to respond, he continued. “Secondly, you seem to be thoroughly averse to actually drinking the scotch in front of you.”

The gleam in her eyes became defiant. “Do I?” And with that, she lifted the glass, saluting him with it before taking an enormous swallow of the amber liquid.

She immediately began coughing and sputtering, clutching a hand to her chest and blindly setting the glass on the table. It took her several moments to regain control of her faculties; when she did, it was to find that he had not moved except to assume a look of smug superiority.

His voice was dry as sand when he said, “It is an acquired taste.”

“Evidently,” she replied, peevishly. Then adding, “I believe my throat is on fire.”

“That particular sensation will abate.” He paused, then added, “It would probably be best if your next taste is more of a sip than a gulp.”

“Thank you, my lord, I hadn’t considered that,” she said dryly.

“What are you doing here?” The words were quiet and cajoling, matched with a warm curiosity in his blue eyes.

“I already told you.” She took a little sip of the liquid in her glass, grimacing.

He sighed again, gaze locked on her. “If that is true, you are more careless than I thought. You are taking a serious risk with your reputation tonight.”

“I wore a disguise.”

“Not a very good one.”

She lifted a hand to her lace cap, nervously. “No one recognized me.”

“I recognized you.”

“You’re different.”

He paused, watching her. “You are right. I am different. Unlike most of the men an unchaperoned female would meet in an establishment such as this, I have a marked interest in preserving your honor.”

“Thank you, Lord Ralston,” she scoffed, “but I do not need your protection.”

“It appears that you need precisely that. Or, shall I remind you that you and your family are about to be linked to my sister? She has enough against her. She doesn’t need you ruining your reputation and her chances at success in one fell swoop.”

The whiskey made her bold. “If you have such concern for the quality of my reputation, my lord, may I suggest you find another to guide your sister into society?”

His eyes narrowed on hers. “No, Lady Calpurnia. We have an agreement. I want you.”

“Why?”

“Because she trusts you and enjoys your company. And because I do not have enough time to return to the beginning and find someone else.” His tone turned to steel.

The barmaid returned then, leaning close enough to provide Ralston with an excellent view of her more-than-ample charms. “Is there anything else yer needin’ this evenin’, milord?”

“Not tonight,” Ralston said with a careless smile, registering Callie’s shock at the woman’s overt invitation.

“I’ve got other ways of makin’ ye comfortable, luv.”

Callie’s eyes were wide as saucers.

“I’m certain you do,” Ralston said wickedly, producing a crown and slowly sliding the coin into the barmaid’s palm. “Thank you.”

Callie inhaled sharply. Her tone iced. “I grow weary of being told how to behave, as though I am unable to think for myself, especially by someone like you.”

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked innocently.

“You cannot mean to suggest that you did not notice her…her…”

A smile played across his lips. “Her…?”

Callie made a little sound of frustration. “You, sir, are incorrigible.”

“Indeed. As we can agree that my reputation is beyond repair, may I suggest we return our attention to yours?” He did not wait for her response. “You will cease risking your reputation, Calpurnia, at least until Juliana is out. That means no unchaperoned visits to London public houses. Strike that. No visits to London public houses whatsoever. And, if you could see to it that you avoid leaving the house in the dead of night, that would be excellent.”

“Certainly, my lord.” Callie turned willful, her courage bolstered by drink. “And how would you suggest I prevent men from inappropriately accosting me in my ancestral home?”

The brashness of her statement surprised him, and he was immediately chagrined. “You have an excellent point. Please accept my—”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Callie’s voice shook as she interrupted him. “I am not a child, nor will I be made to feel as though I have no control over my actions. Not by you, or by anyone else. And I could not—”

She stopped short. And I could not bear hearing that you regretted our kiss.

Of course, she knew in her heart that it was true, that he had trapped her in that alcove to prove his superiority, to pass the time, or for some other decidedly unromantic reason. But, for the first time in her life, she had felt sought after. And she would not have him ruin it with an apology.

In the silence that fell between them, mind reeling, Callie finished the last of her scotch. Ralston had been right, of course. The liquid seemed to go down much more easily with practice. She set the glass down, watching a droplet of whiskey make its slow, meandering way down the inside of the glass to settle at the bottom. She traced its path on the outside of the glass and waited for him to speak.

When he didn’t, she was flooded with a desire to escape the now-too-small space. “I am sorry to have spoiled your evening, my lord. As I have completed the task for which I came, I believe I shall leave you in peace.”

She stood, replacing her hood and pulling her cloak around her. He stood with her, immediately swinging his cloak around his shoulders and taking his hat and walking stick in hand. She offered him a direct look, and said, “I do not need a chaperone.”

“I would not be much of a gentleman if I did not escort you home, my lady.” She noted a slight emphasis on the last two words, as if he was reminding her of her position.

She refused to argue with him, refused to let him further ruin an evening that should have been bright with possibility—after all, she had succeeded in crossing yet another item off her list. Instead, she turned and began the long journey through the crowded taproom to the door, eager to exit the tavern ahead of him, certain that, if she could only reach the street first, she could hail a hackney and leave him—and this horrid interlude—behind. This time, however, she seemed less able to avoid being jostled by the crowd; her balance seemed somehow off, her thoughts slightly fuzzy. Was it possible that that small amount of scotch had gone to her head?

She exited the room into the cool spring evening beyond and marched to the street, head high, to search for a cab. Behind her, she was aware of Ralston calling up to the driver of his coach, who was waiting for him. Excellent, she thought to herself, perhaps he has decided to leave me alone after all. Ignoring the pang of disappointment that came with the thought, Callie stepped off the edge of the sidewalk to peer around another parked carriage. At the last minute, she recalled the puddle that she had met with earlier in the evening, and she increased the length of her stride, avoiding the muck. She landed off-balance and felt herself pitching forward onto the cobblestones. Flinging her hands out to catch herself, she prepared for impact.

An impact that never came.

Before she could grasp what had happened, she felt the earth shift and was caught against a rigid wall of warmth. She heard Ralston’s mutter of “Infuriating female” as his arms came around her like stone, and she gave a little shriek when he lifted her into the air, flush against his chest. His very broad, very firm chest. The hood of her cloak fell back, and she found herself staring straight into his angry blue gaze. His lips were scant inches from her own. Such marvelous lips. She shook her head to clear it of such silly thoughts.