Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (16 page)

“You, sir, are no gentleman.”

The words sent Benedick over the edge. He could not contain his great rolling laughs at her prim displeasure. In the face of his infectious amusement, Callie began to see the humor in the situation, and she began to laugh as well, which brought on another fit of coughing, more pounding, and an additional round of laughter.

After several moments, Benedick resumed his seat and stamped out Callie’s cheroot in the ashtray as she watched. “And so we discover why women do not smoke,” he said, humor still lacing his voice.

“What a vile habit!” Callie said. “How can you do it?”

“Suffice it to say that it is an acquired taste.”

“That’s precisely what Ralston said about scotch.”

“And he was right,” Benedick said. After a few moments, he asked, “You did not enjoy that part of the evening, either, then?”

“On the contrary,” Callie said, “I enjoyed every bit of the evening. I may not drink scotch or smoke a cheroot again, but I shall always cherish the fact that I did those things. The adventure is well worth the disappointing experience.”

“I do not like this taste for adventure you have developed, sister.”

“I am afraid I cannot guarantee I shall be rid of it anytime soon. It’s a shame that woman are not able to even try the experiences that men so take for granted. You lot really are quite lucky.” Benedick turned a skeptical look on her, but she pushed on. “Come now, Benedick, you’re not really going to tell me you don’t think I deserve an adventure or two, do you? After all, you provided me with the most recent instrument of my demise.”

“A point I should like to forget.”

“Coward.”

They smiled at each other.

“Mother will have my head if she finds out.”

“She won’t find out,” Callie said, “and, even if she did, it’s not as though she has anything to worry about. I’m well and truly on the shelf. I should think I’m allowed an eccentricity or two.”

Benedick snorted with laughter. “Smoking and drinking are rather remarkable eccentricities, Callie. I’m not sure the ton would accept them—despite your having one foot in the grave.” He paused, thinking. “I’m rather shocked that Ralston would encourage you, what with you being so kind as to sponsor his sister. What was he thinking? He should have packed you into a carriage and brought you home immediately.”

Callie had the good sense to avoid telling her brother that Ralston had in fact packed her into a carriage and brought her home. Instead, she said, “I imagine he felt, as you did, that he would better serve my reputation by staying with me while I pushed the boundaries. At least, then, I had a chaperone.”

“I would not exactly refer to him as a ‘chaperone,’” Benedick growled. “I should call him out.”

“I would prefer you didn’t. I rather like him.”

He met her eyes. “You don’t—You can’t—” He leaned forward. “What does that mean?” She did not respond, leaving Benedick to try again. “Ralston…he isn’t…Callie, women don’t ‘rather like’ the Marquess of Ralston.”

Her voice was barely audible when she said, “No, I don’t suppose they do.”

As he registered the sadness in his sister’s voice, Benedick swore softly. “I saw that he danced with you tonight. I know how that must have felt. I understand that he played the part of protector at the ridiculous tavern you went to—Lord knows I’m glad he found you there or who knows what might have happened to you—but you must understand…Ralston…men like Ralston…” He stopped again, uncertain of how to say delicately what he was thinking.

Callie took pity on him and offered him an exit from the awkward conversation. “I know, Benedick. I’m not silly. Men like Ralston are not for women like me.”

Perhaps if I say it enough, I’ll begin to believe it.

She forced a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. “I should think Ralston would be far more adventure than I could endure.”

He smiled. “Not only you. Think of your poor old brother.”

Returning his smile, she stood, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for the cheroot, Benny.” And, with that, she left the room, climbing the great marble stairs to her bedchamber.

Callie prepared herself for sleep slowly and methodically, refusing to allow Benedick’s words to upset her. Certainly, he was right. She was no match for Ralston; she never had been. But that night, she had come close. And, if one night were all she could have, it would have to be enough.

She replayed the events of the evening in her mind as she took down her hair, moved through her toilette and changed into her billowing white nightgown. She then smoothed out her wrinkled list and considered it frankly. For several long minutes, she sat at her desk, unmoving, reading over the items. With a sigh, she lifted her pen and drew a dark line through Smoke cheroot and drink scotch.

She snuffed the last candle and slid into bed and dreamed of the woman in Ralston’s carriage—in Ralston’s arms.

Several days later, Callie arrived at Ralston House promptly at noon, prepared for a day of dress shopping.

If there was one thing that Callie loathed, it was dress shopping.

Thus, she brought reinforcements in the form of Mariana who, aside from her unnatural love of Bond Street, was also consumed with curiosity over Ralston’s mysterious younger sister.

“I’ve never been to Ralston House!” Mariana whispered excitedly, as they approached the door.

“As well you should not have done,” Callie pointed out, primly. “Until the arrival of Ralston’s sister, this was most certainly not the place for young unmarried women.”

Nor an old, unmarried woman, but that did not prevent you from visiting the marquess.

Callie ignored the little voice in her head and started up the steps to the front door of the house. Before she reached the top stair, the door burst open, revealing an eager Juliana. “Hello!” she said, breathless with excitement.

Behind her stood a wild-eyed Jenkins, looking thoroughly appalled by the fact that the young woman had not waited for a footman to open the door and announce the arrival of her guests. His mouth opened a fraction, then closed, as though he were entirely unsure of how to deal with such an egregious breach of conduct. Callie swallowed back a smile, certain that the stoic butler would not at all appreciate the humor of the situation.

Mariana, however, took in the scene before her and burst into laughter. Clapping her hands together in glee, she crossed the threshold, took Juliana’s hands warmly in her own, and said, “You must be Miss Juliana. I am Callie’s sister, Mariana.”

Juliana dropped a small curtsy—as much as she could curtsy without the use of her hands—and said, “Lady Mariana, it is an honor to meet you.”

Mariana shook her head with a wide smile. “We can dispense with the ‘Lady’ altogether; you must call me Mariana. Can you not see that we are going to be excellent friends?”

Juliana matched Mariana’s smile with a brilliant one of her own. “Then you must call me Juliana, no?”

Callie grinned at the picture they made, heads already bent as if in confidence. Behind them, Jenkins looked to the ceiling. Callie had no doubt that the butler was longing for the days when there were no female residents of Ralston House.

Taking pity on him, she turned to the girls to say, “Shall we be off?”

Within moments, they had piled into the Allendale coach and were on their way to Bond Street, where they were to spend much of their afternoon. Of course, getting there was much easier said than done in the crush of carriages and shoppers. As the coach crept along, Juliana quieted, pressing her nose to the window to watch the bustling activity in the street beyond: scores of aristocrats moving in and out of shops; footmen loading carriages with boxes and packages; gentlemen tipping their hats as they passed clusters of chattering ladies. There was nothing quite like Bond Street at the start of the season. Callie could imagine that Juliana would find the entire experience of shopping alongside the ton rather daunting. Frankly, she couldn’t blame her for it.

Mariana seemed to sense the other girl’s nerves and chattered brightly. “We shall begin, of course, with Madame Hebert.” She placed her hand on Juliana’s, leaning across the carriage to whisper excitedly, “She’s French, of course, and the finest dressmaker in London. Everyone wants her…but she’s very particular about her clientele. In her creations, you’ll be the talk of the season!”

Juliana turned wide eyes on Mariana, and said, “If she is, as you say, particular, why would she accept me as a patron? I have no title.”

“Oh, she shall accept you without question! First, she’s designing my entire trousseau—so she will not be able to turn away a friend of mine. And, if that weren’t enough,” she added, matter-of-factly, “Ralston is a marquess and rich as Croesus. She won’t turn him down.”

“Mariana!” Callie exclaimed in outrage.

Mariana gave Callie a frank look. “Well, it’s true!”

“Nevertheless! It is vulgar to discuss the marquess’s finances.”

“Oh, posh, Callie. Everyone does it among friends.” Mariana waved a hand in dismissal and flashed a grin at Juliana. “It’s true. I’d imagine he’s outfitted several mistresses there.”

“Mariana!” Callie’s voice turned shrill. Juliana laughed, drawing a warning look from Callie. “Don’t encourage her!”

The carriage pulled to a stop, and Mariana adjusted the bow of her bonnet, tying it at a jaunty angle under her chin. She winked impishly at Juliana before hopping down from the carriage to the street below, calling back, “It’s true!”

And, with another laugh, Juliana joined her and the pair rushed ahead, into the modiste’s shop.

Callie followed them, amused. Mari had been the perfect addition to the outing—her natural exuberance was a match for Juliana’s—and Callie was rather proud of herself for making such a wonderful match. Ralston would be happy to hear that his sister had become fast friends with the future Duchess of Rivington; there was no question that such an alliance would smooth Juliana’s entry into society. Assuming, of course, that he never discovered that Mariana was more than willing to discuss his private affairs—all of them, evidently—without a care for discretion. Callie could only hope that the marquess’s own sister was slightly more careful with her words.

Mari was, of course, correct. Most men of London society kept their mistresses well housed and well dressed. Ralston would be no different. At the thought, a memory flashed in Callie’s mind—Ralston in his darkened chamber on that first night, when everything had begun, listing off the things that he had given his mistress at the end of their relationship. You retain the house, the jewels, the clothes. The vision chilled her. She shouldn’t be surprised, of course, but…the pang of jealousy she felt at the thought of his buying clothing for another woman was sharp.

How many had there been?

“Lady Calpurnia!”

The words startled her from her morbid reverie, and she turned to find Baron Oxford approaching from the opposite side of the street. His snug buckskin breeches and dark blue topcoat were offset by his crimson waistcoat, which was perfectly matched to the knob on his cane and the heels of his boots—the brilliance of which was rivaled only by his wide, white smile. Oxford was the height of fashion.

Aside, of course, from the fact that he just bellowed at me from halfway across London.

“Lady Calpurnia!” he repeated as he bounded out of the street to join her on the steps to Madame Hebert. “What tremendous good luck! Why, I was just considering paying a visit to Allendale House…and here you are!”

“Indeed,” Callie said, resisting the urge to ask the baron why he would be at all interested in visiting Allendale House, “here I am!” When Oxford continued to smile at her without speaking, she added, “It is a lovely day for shopping.”

“Only made lovelier by your being here.”

Callie’s eyebrows snapped together. “Oh. Well. Thank you, my lord.”

“Perhaps I could tempt you to forgo your shopping for a fruit ice?”

Was he pursuing her?

“Oh, I couldn’t…You see, my sister is inside.” She waved a hand to indicate the modiste’s shop. “She will be waiting for me.”

“I’m sure she would understand.” He offered one arm to her and, with a wide smile, winked at her.

Callie froze at the gesture. He was most definitely pursuing her.

Why?

“Callie!” Startled, Callie spun toward Mariana, who had popped her head out of the door to the shop to look for her sister. Taking in the scene before her with a look of utter confusion, Mari added, “Oh, hello, Baron Oxford.”

Oxford dipped into an extravagantly low bow, pointing one red-heeled boot in Mariana’s direction. “Lady Mariana, a pleasure, as ever.”

Callie lifted one gloved hand to her lips to cover the smile that escaped at the bizarre interaction. Lips twitching, Mari added, “Yes, well. You will not mind if I steal my sister away, will you?”

Oxford straightened and smiled broadly, “Not at all! Indeed this turn of events will only serve to make it more imperative that I call upon Lady Calpurnia at Allendale House.”

“That would be lovely, my lord.” Callie added in a tone that any but the baron would have noted as too bright. Seizing the opportunity for escape, she hurried up the stairs to Mariana, turning back to wave briefly at Oxford before following her sister into the shop.

“I cannot believe that he kept you waiting in the street! Do you think there is anything in that man’s head at all?” Mari asked under her breath.

Callie grinned. “Aside from teeth?”

The sisters laughed loudly as they approached Juliana, who had already waylaid Madame Hebert. The modiste had clearly decided, as Mariana had predicted, that designing an entire wardrobe for Juliana would be good for business.

Soon, they were surrounded by a gaggle of seamstresses, several of whom had already started measuring the girl, while others scrambled to collect bolts of fabric in every imaginable color and material. One small, bespectacled young woman perched on a nearby stool, taking notes as Mariana joined the conversation.

“She’ll need at least six dinner dresses to start…six day dresses, three riding habits, a dozen morning gowns, five walking dresses…” She paused, allowing the dressmaker’s assistant to catch up with her scribbling. “Oh! And three ball gowns…no, four. They must be stunning, of course,” Mariana said, giving a meaningful look at Madame Hebert. “She must take London by storm.”

Callie smiled as she took in the scene. Mariana had indeed been the perfect choice of companion. Juliana appeared thoroughly dumbstruck. Poor thing.

Mariana looked to Callie. “What have I forgotten?”

Turning to the modiste, Callie spoke up, “Spencers, pelisses, cloaks, and shawls to go with everything, as necessary…and she’ll need undergarments for all, of course. And night rails.”

Juliana spoke for the first time. “I do not see why I need new night rails. Mine are perfectly acceptable.”

“You need them because your brother is willing to buy them for you,” Mariana pointed out, matter-of-factly. “Why not have them?”

Juliana looked to Callie. “It is too much. I am only here for seven weeks.”

Callie shook her head sympathetically, immediately understanding the younger woman’s discomfort. She had barely met Ralston, and now she was ordering a fortune in clothing on his account. Callie moved closer to Juliana, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. Softly, so no one but Juliana could hear, Callie said, “He wants to do this for you. It was his idea. I know it seems too extravagant…” She met the young woman’s clear, worried gaze. “Let him play the elder brother today.”

After a moment, Juliana gave a little nod. “Bene. However, I should like the dresses to be in a more…Italian style.”

Madame Hebert overheard from her place nearby and scoffed, “You think I would take a wild lily and trim it to appear an English rose? You shall meet the ton as a bright Italian star.”

Callie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Capital. Shall we choose some fabrics?”

The words sent the cluster of women around them into a flurry, rolling out yards of muslins and satins, jaconet and crepe, velvet and gros de Naples in every imaginable color and pattern.

“Which do you like?” Callie asked.

Juliana turned her attention to the pile of fabrics, a bemused smile on her face. Mariana approached and locked their arms together. Leaning close, she said, “I adore that mulberry crepe. It would go beautifully with your hair.” Turning to Callie she said, “And you, sister?”

Callie cocked her head in the direction of a willow green satin, and said, “If you don’t leave here with an evening dress in that satin, I shall be very disappointed.”

Juliana laughed. “Well, then I shall have to have it! And I do like that rose muslin.”

Madame Hebert lifted the bolt and passed it to a seamstress. “Excellent choice, signorina. May I suggest the gold satin as well? For evening, of course.”

Mariana squeezed Juliana’s arm, and said brightly, “This is fun, isn’t it?” sending Juliana, nodding, into a fit of laughter. Ralston’s sister warmed quickly to the process, and within an hour she had selected colors and fabrics for all of her gowns. She and Mariana were taking tea and discussing hems and waists as Callie found herself fingering an aethereal blue satin that had caught her eye several times since she entered the shop. For the first time in a very long time, Callie was drawn to the idea of having a gown made. For herself.

“The fabric, it has been calling to you, non?” The deeply accented words of the modiste drew Callie from her thoughts. “It would make a beautiful gown. For your next ball. This satin, it is made for waltzing.”

“It is gorgeous!” Mariana had materialized beside her as the dressmaker had spoken.

“Indeed! You must have it!” Juliana added.

She smiled, shaking her head. “Thank you, but I have no need of a gown like that.”

Madame Hebert’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You do not attend the balls?”

“Oh, I do…” Callie struggled for the words. “But I do not dance.”

“Perhaps you do not have the right gown, my lady. May I say…if I were to design you a gown of that fabric, you would most certainly dance.” Throwing an excess of the fabric out onto her table, the Frenchwoman worked several moments, pleating and folding. Stepping back, she allowed Callie a look at her work, which barely hinted at being a gown. It was gorgeous.