Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (23 page)

Her brows snapped together, and she looked at him warily. “What price?”

He lifted her mask and handed it to her. “I shall protect your reputation today if you allow me to do so for the duration of your list.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Ah,” he said genially, “I see you take my meaning. Yes. If I discover that you’ve completed another item on that list without my escort, I shall tell your brother everything.”

She was silent for a long moment, emotions flaring. “That’s blackmail.”

“A loathsome word. But if you must label it such, so be it. I assure you it’s for the best. You obviously need a chaperone and, for the good of both of our families, I am offering my services.”

“You can’t…”

“It would seem that I can,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Now, you can either put on your mask and let me help you exit this club, or you can put it on and take your chances on your own. Which will it be?”

She met his eyes for a long moment. As much as she wanted to leave him there, smug expression on his face, and find her own way out of the mess, she knew that his would likely be the quickest and easiest exit strategy.

Callie donned her mask, taking her time as she tucked her hair up under the cowl, away from view. When she was done, she spoke, her words muffled by the wire mesh.

“It would seem I haven’t much of a choice.”

He smiled wickedly, sending a shock of excitement through her. “Capital.”

No! No! Non! Miss Juliana, ladies should be all daintiness while dancing! You are meeting my gaze altogether too often!”

As the dance master spoke, his affront clear as day, Callie turned toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the impressive Ralston House gardens and hid her smile. The small, effete Frenchman was Juliana’s least favorite teacher despite being one of the finest dancing masters in England; the two had very different opinions on the importance of dancing in the life of a young woman, and Callie had a sneaking suspicion that young Miss Fiori enjoyed irritating him.

“Apologies, Monsieur Latuffe,” Juliana said, her tone indicating absolutely no remorse. “I was merely trying to ensure that I knew your whereabouts—and did not tread upon your toes.”

The dance master’s eyes widened. “Miss Juliana! Neither do young ladies presume to discuss toe treading. If such a horrible thing should occur, I assure you that your partner will not notice. For, ladies, when dancing, should be light as air.”

Juliana’s laugh was rife with disbelief, sending Latuffe into a fit of sputtering hysterics. Callie covered her mouth to keep her own laughter from spilling out—thereby ruining her image as an impartial bystander.

Callie had been overseeing the lesson from a settee on the far end of the ballroom for the better part of an hour, but as Juliana and Monsieur Latuffe had progressed through the steps of several country dances, a quadrille, and now a minuet, the patience of both parties had worn thin, and Callie was finding herself unable to hide her amusement at their bickering. Affixing what she hoped was a neutral expression upon her face, she turned back to Juliana and Latuffe.

The Frenchman was stalking across the bare floor, arms flailing, toward the pianoforte, where the pianist who had been hired for the afternoon’s lessons was looking more than a little uncertain. Placing one hand to his heart and the other on the edge of the piano, Latuffe made a show of taking several deep, calming breaths between harried French muttering. One side of Callie’s mouth twitched as she almost certainly heard him take the names of the Island of Great Britain, Italian females, and the quadrille in vain. She had to admit to a modicum of surprise at the last—Juliana must be quite a trial if he was ready to give up his faith in dance.

Approaching Juliana, Callie met the younger woman’s blue eyes, which were immediately rolled in exasperation. Flashing a grin, Callie whispered, “You’ve only another twenty minutes. Do attempt to suffer through.”

Juliana spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m doing this for you, you realize.”

Callie squeezed the younger woman’s arm, and said, “A fact for which I shall be forever grateful.”

Juliana snickered as the dance master turned abruptly. “It is no matter,” he said, firmly. “We shall move on to the waltz. Surely, even a young lady such as you must respect the waltz.”

Juliana’s eyes widened. She looked at Callie, and whispered, “A young lady such as I?”

It was Callie’s turn to snicker as the Frenchman swept a surprised Juliana into his arms and, in an act that belied his diminutive size, whirled her across the ballroom floor to a rousing tune. Callie smiled genially at the obviously relieved pianist and watched as the pair swayed and turned with the music. As they danced, Latuffe kept up his litany of do’s and don’ts—Juliana was chastised in quick succession for having too firm a grip, too rigid a form, and, finally, too wild a look in her eye. Callie had a rather firm suspicion that the wild look would be less of an issue once the younger woman was out of her dance master’s grasp.

Callie couldn’t help the wide grin that had settled on her face, especially when Juliana looked her instructor square in the eye and stomped quite deliberately upon his foot. I rather expect that belied the theory that young ladies are light as air while dancing.

“Is it I, or is my sister requiring her exorbitantly expensive dancing instructor to earn every shilling?” The words, spoken at a close proximity, surprised Callie, and she whirled toward the sound to discover Nicholas St. John standing nearby, his amused attention focused on Juliana.

Callie ignored the burst of emotion in her chest, unwilling to define it as either disappointment or relief that this was the St. John who had made an appearance that afternoon. Instead, she offered Nick a bright smile, and said, “I think that given the opportunity, your sister would enjoy roundly trouncing Monsieur Latuffe.”

Nick watched silently for a long moment, during which Juliana and her dance master had rousing words about the appropriateness of young ladies smiling at other gentlemen—even her brothers—while waltzing. Turning back to Callie, Nick said, “Yes, well, I’m not entirely certain I would reprimand her for doing so.”

Callie laughed. “Between us, I’m rather tempted to allow her free rein.”

“Retribution for past dance masters?”

“That…and the supreme enjoyment of the circus that would almost certainly ensue.”

Nick raised one brow. “Why, Lady Calpurnia. I confess, I hadn’t pegged you for such a wicked sense of humor.”

“No. No! Non!” The explosion of negativity from the far end of the room interrupted Nick and Callie’s banter, causing them to share an amused look as the dance master blustered. “It is the gentleman who leads the young lady. I am the gentleman. You follow! You are merely a leaf in the wind!”

The analogy spurred a burst of irate Italian. While Callie did not wholly understand the words, Juliana’s meaning was unmistakable.

Nick flashed a grin at Callie. “I do not imagine women take well to being compared to foliage.”

“Certainly not Italian women, it seems.”

Her words drew a bark of laughter from him which, in turn, drew a pair of angry looks from the other couple. Clearing his throat, Nick turned to Callie and, holding out a hand, said, “Shall we show them how it is done?”

Callie looked down at the proffered hand, dumbfounded. “My lord?”

“Come now, Lady Calpurnia,” he whispered teasingly, “never tell me you are afraid that Latuffe will critique your form.”

Callie squared her shoulders in mock affront. “Certainly not.”

“Well then?”

She placed her hand in his.

“Excellent.”

And, with a wave of the hand at the pianist, who began another waltz, Nick swept her into his arms and they started across the room. As they dipped and turned their way through the sun-drenched ballroom, Callie craned her neck to keep watch over the bickering Juliana and Latuffe.

“Lady Calpurnia,” Nick said finally, “I would be offended by your lack of interest were I not so very sure of myself.”

Callie snapped her attention back to Nick at the words, only to laugh at the twinkle in his eye. “Apologies, my lord. I am merely preparing to enter the fray should the two of them come to blows.”

“Never fear. I shall be the first to leap to Latuffe’s aid should my sister act on the emotions with which she so clearly struggles.” He tilted his head toward Juliana, and Callie looked in that direction, to find his sister looking thoroughly annoyed.

“’Twould be a pity if Italy and France were to war so soon after Napoleon was bested,” Callie said, wryly.

Nick grinned. “I shall do my best to foster a universal peace.”

“Excellent,” Callie said, with mock seriousness. “But you do understand that may require playing dance master yourself?”

Nick pretended to consider the proposition. “Do you think the pianist would come back?”

Enjoying their game, Callie tilted her head and made a show of considering the wiry young man at the pianoforte. “Likely not, my lord. Aren’t you lucky that your brother is a virtuoso?”

The words were out before she could consider their implication. To Nick’s credit, he did not miss a step of their waltz, instead fixing her with an intrigued look, and quietly asking, “And, how do you know that my brother plays, my lady?”

Callie hedged, desperate for an escape from the conversation. “It is…quite…well-known, is it not?” She attempted a curious, innocent look.

One side of Nick’s mouth kicked up in amusement. “No. It isn’t. Yours would have been a convincing effort, however, were I not his twin brother.” He paused, watching as defeat fell across her face. “When have you heard him play?”

Callie’s mouth opened, then closed.

“Or should I ask, where have you heard him play?”

Was he teasing her? She was caught, but would not go down without a fight. Meeting Nick’s eyes again, she said, “Nowhere.”

He leaned close and whispered. “Liar.”

“My lord,” she protested, “I assure you that Lord Ralston has not…”

“There’s no need for you to defend him,” Nick said casually. “You forget I know my brother well.”

“But we haven’t—” Callie stopped, feeling a telltale spread of heat across her cheeks.

Nick raised one eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Callie turned her gaze to Nick’s cravat, attempting to distract herself with the cambric knot. He allowed her to remain quiet for several moments before he let out a rich laugh. “Never fear, my lady, your secret is safe with me, although I confess a twinge of jealousy. After all, it is well-known that I am by far the handsomer St. John.”

She could not contain her own laughter as he turned her quickly, pulling her almost off her feet and lightening the moment. Smiling up into eyes twinkling with boyish amusement, Callie’s eyes lingered on Nick’s scar briefly before she caught herself and looked away.

“It’s a horrid-looking thing, isn’t it?”

Callie looked back at him, giving his cheek a frank perusal. “Not at all. Indeed, it is a surprise, but I have heard many women say they think you all the more handsome because of it.”

He made a show of grimacing at the words. “They romanticize it. I am no pirate to be reformed.”

“No? That is a pity. I heard that you spent half a decade sailing the Mediterranean, plundering ships and abducting innocents.”

“The truth is much less exciting.”

She feigned a look of horror. “Don’t tell me. I prefer my version.”

They laughed together, and Callie wondered at the fact that she could be so at ease with Nicholas St. John when his mirror image held such power over her emotions.

It had been just over a week since she had seen Ralston last—since he had smuggled her out of his fencing club and into his carriage to return her to Allendale House. She had been to Ralston House several times in the eight days, both to oversee Juliana’s lessons and with Mariana to take tea with the young woman, and, each time, she had hoped to have an excuse to see Ralston; hoped that he might seek her out. For, certainly, with a houseful of servants and such an openly social sister, he must have known when Callie was in the building.

Twice, she had considered excusing herself to hunt him down and talk with him; she’d divined dozens of ways to force an interaction between them, from accidental entry to his study to fabricated reasons why she might need to discuss his sister. Unfortunately, Juliana’s entry into society looked to be going quite smoothly—she would be ready for her first ball in a week’s time—and Callie hadn’t been able to get up the nerve to enter Ralston’s study.

Ironic, that, considering that the first time she’d entered Ralston House, she’d brazenly entered Ralston’s bedchamber. But that had been different. That had been about the list. This was about something altogether different.

She’d considered using the list to gain access to Ralston—after all, she had promised not to attempt another item without his chaperone, and she was rather chomping at the bit to try something else. But, frankly, she felt rather pathetic whenever she thought of using it to see him. It made her feel like something of a lapdog—eagerly chasing after its master. No. The truth was that she didn’t want to have to seek him out. She wanted their interlude in the fencing club—which had changed everything for her—well, she wanted it to change something for him.

She wanted him to come to her. Was that too much to ask?

“Well…isn’t this a cozy portrait.”

The music halted as the dry words shot across the ballroom, and Callie caught her breath as the object of her reverie cast a bored look at her.

My God. I conjured him up.

She shook her head at the silly thought and moved instantly to separate herself from Nick, only to discover that he would not let her leave his embrace. When she looked to him in confusion, he winked at her and leaned entirely too close to whisper, “Don’t show your hand. We were only dancing.”

Her eyes widened as Nick released her slowly, bending into a deep, somewhat overdone bow and making a show of kissing her hand. Callie’s eyes darted to Ralston, leaning casually in the entry to the ballroom, watching them with an entirely unreadable look. She felt immediately uncomfortable—and indignation flared. Nick was right, of course. They had only been dancing. So why did she feel as though she were an errant child caught doing something naughty?

“My lord Ralston!” Latuffe exclaimed, hurrying across the room toward the marquess. “It is an honor to have you grace us with your presence at Miss Juliana’s lessons!”

“Indeed.” The word rolled off Ralston’s tongue lazily, his gaze not straying from Nick and Callie.

“Indeed! Indeed! Oui!” The dance master repeated eagerly, following the marquess’s gaze. “Lord Nicholas and Lady Calpurnia have been a great help in adding levity to these challenging lessons.”