Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (36 page)

“I—” He stopped, uncertain of his words.

“You don’t have to say anything. In fact, I’d prefer you not say anything. But there it is. I can’t marry you. Because it would kill me to spend the rest of my days with you when you are only marrying me out of some newfound—and misplaced—sense of honor and duty.”

He watched her for long moments, followed the tears as they traveled, unhindered, down her cheeks. “I—” He repeated, for the first time in his life entirely without words.

She couldn’t bear to look at him. “Do you remember the night in your bedchamber?” she whispered. “When we negotiated the terms of our transaction?”

The night everything changed. “Of course I do.”

“Do you remember you promised me a favor? Of my choosing? In the future?”

A feeling of cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden, he knew what she was going to say. “Callie, don’t do this.”

“I’m asking you to honor that promise. Right now. Please, just go away.”

The pain in her voice was heartbreaking, and Ralston itched to touch her, to comfort her. Instead, he raked his hands through his hair, cursing violently. “Callie—” He stopped, not knowing what to say but determined to say something, anything, that would convince her that she should marry him.

She held up a single hand, and Ralston had a fleeting moment of surprise at its steadiness. “Please, Gabriel. If you care for me at all,” she repeated, “please, just go away. Go away and leave me alone.”

And, because it was the one request she’d made that he could honor, he did.

Callie sat for a long while in the quiet room, allowing the darkness to surround her. The tears that came were fleeting, soon replaced by a bone-deep sadness that came with the sense of finality that the interaction with Ralston had brought.

For, in that moment, she knew with utter certainty that she would be alone forever. Refusing Ralston’s suit so summarily had ruined her for all others. For, if she could not have him, she would never want anyone else.

Perhaps she had made a mistake. Perhaps she could have loved him enough for both of them. But could she survive a lifetime of knowing that he never really wanted her? That he had proposed simply because it was the thing to do? That, left to his own devices, he would have found someone infinitely more worldly? Infinitely more beautiful? Infinitely…more?

No. She couldn’t bear it. Refusing him had been her only option.

She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and sniffled quietly, knowing she should return to the ball but unable to make the effort.

“Callie?”

The whisper, barely a sound, came from the doorway and Callie snapped her head around to face Juliana, who was peering through the dim light to confirm that the woman in the darkness was, indeed, her friend.

Dashing another tear from her cheek, Callie sat up in her chair, facing the younger girl. “Juliana, you should not be here, alone!”

At the words, Juliana closed the door firmly behind her and crossed to Callie, sitting on a nearby ottoman. “I am quite tired of being told what I should and should not do. You are here, are you not? I am not so alone now!”

Callie smiled a watery smile at the girl’s defense. “That much is true.”

“And it looks as though you could use a companion, amica. As could I.”

Callie blinked, focusing on Juliana’s face, registering her blue eyes, rounded and…hurt? Callie pushed her own sadness aside, and said, “What has happened?”

Juliana waved one hand with what Callie knew was feigned dismissiveness. “I wandered away from the celebration and became lost.”

Callie’s look softened. “Juliana, you cannot allow them to upset you.”

Juliana’s lips twisted wryly. “I am not upset. Indeed, I find myself eager to show them what I am capable of.”

Callie smiled at the younger girl, “Yes! That is how you must face them. Proud, and strong, and wonderfully you. They shall not be able to resist you. I guarantee it!”

Juliana’s face shadowed for a moment—so fleeting that Callie almost missed it. “Some shall resist me, it seems.”

Callie shook her head, placing a warm, reassuring hand on the other girl’s knee. “I vow they shan’t be able to for long.”

“May I tell you something?” Juliana bowed closer until their foreheads almost touched.

“Always.”

“I have decided to stay here. In England.”

“You have?” Callie’s eyes widened as the words registered. “But, that’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands with pleasure. “When did you come to your decision?”

“Just moments ago.”

Callie sat back. “The ball decided your fate?”

The younger woman nodded firmly. “Indeed. I cannot simply allow these aristocratic nobs…”—she paused, pleased with her use of the slang—“to scare me off. If I were to return to Italy, who would set them to rights?”

Callie laughed. “Excellent! I shall take great pleasure in watching them all tumble!” She squeezed Juliana’s hands in hers. “And your brothers, Juliana…they shall be thrilled.”

Juliana beamed. “Yes…I suppose they will.” Her expression quickly turned serious as she looked into Callie’s eyes. “However, I am not certain that Gabriel deserves such good news.”

Callie looked down at her lap.

It was Juliana’s turn to take Callie’s hands in hers. “Callie, what happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

Your brother merely broke my heart. That is all.

Juliana waited for Callie to look up again and, when she did, her eyes liquid with tears, the younger woman searched her gaze for answers. After a very long moment, Juliana seemed to find what she was looking for.

Squeezing her friend’s hands, she said, “You must face him proud, and strong, and wonderfully you.”

The words, an echo of those Callie had spoken only moments earlier, sent her tears spilling over, coursing down her cheeks in long, silent tracks.

Instantly, Juliana moved to perch next to Callie on the chair, pulling her into a strong, powerful embrace.

And, as Juliana held her, Callie whispered the words she could no longer deny.

“But what if I am not enough?”

Ralston exited the ball immediately. Leaving the carriage for his siblings, he departed on foot, heading in the direction of Ralston House, no more than a quarter of a mile away.

For his entire life, he’d been avoiding precisely this moment: He had eschewed relationships with women with whom he had too much in common; he had avoided matchmaking mamas at all costs, out of fear that he might actually like the women they attempted to foist upon him. He’d grown up in a household destroyed by a woman, marred by an unrequited love that had eaten away at his father, who had eventually died of the affliction—too heartbroken for too long to fight the fever to which he had ultimately succumbed.

And now, he was faced with Callie, fresh-faced, open-hearted, charming, intelligent Callie, who seemed to be everything that his mother had not been, and yet, was equally as dangerous as the former marchioness. For, when she’d looked at him with those stunning brown eyes and professed her love, Ralston had lost his ability to think.

And when she had begged him to leave, he had known precisely what his father had felt when his mother had left—the sense of complete and utter helplessness, as though he were watching a part of himself being stolen away but could do nothing at all to stop it.

It was a terrifying feeling. And if it was love, he wanted none of it.

It was raining, a fine London mist that seemed to come from all directions, casting a shining, wet glow over the darkened city and rendering umbrellas useless. Ralston was blind to the wet, his thoughts clouded by a vision of Callie, tears streaming down her face, devastated—and all because of him.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he’d been destined to make a mess of the situation since the moment she’d arrived on the threshold of his bedchamber—all big, brown eyes and full, tempting lips—asking him to kiss her. If he’d paid closer attention, he would have realized then that she was going to wreak marvelous havoc on his perfectly satisfactory life.

Tonight she had given him an opportunity to walk away—to return to that life. To spend his days at his men’s club, and his sporting club, and his taverns and to forget that he’d ever found himself entangled with an adventurous wallflower who appeared to be entirely unaware of society’s boundaries.

He should have leapt at the chance to be rid of the vexing woman.

But now there were memories of her in all of those places. And now, when Ralston considered his life prior to the night she’d barged into his bedchamber, it didn’t seem satisfactory at all. It seemed sorely lacking in laughter and in conversation and in entirely inappropriate visits to taverns and clubs with adventuresome females. It was lacking in wide smiles and lush curves and insane lists. It was lacking in Callie.

And the prospect of returning to a life without her was dismal, indeed.

He had been walking for several hours, having passed Ralston House multiple times as he roamed the darkened city, mind racing. His greatcoat was soaked through when he finally looked up, only to find himself outside Allendale House. The house was dark, save for a light in a lower-level room facing the side gardens, and Ralston stood for a long moment considering that golden glow.

The decision was made.

He knocked on the door and, when the aging butler, whom he’d terrorized previously, opened the door, eyes wide with recognition, Ralston had one thing to say. “I am here to see your master.”

The butler seemed to sense the importance of the matter because he did not argue the lateness of the hour or speculate that, perhaps, the Earl of Allendale might not be in. Instead, he indicated that Ralston should wait and shuffled off to announce the visitor.

In less than a minute, he was back, taking Ralston’s sopping coat and hat and indicating that he should see his way into the earl’s study. Ralston entered the large, well-lit room and closed the door behind him to find Benedick leaning on the edge of a large oak desk, eyeglasses on the tip of his nose, reading from a sheaf of papers. He looked up when the latch clicked. “Ralston,” he acknowledged.

Ralston dipped his head. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Benedick cocked a smile, setting the papers down on his desk. “I was having a rather boring evening, frankly. You are a welcome distraction.”

“I’m not sure you’ll think so after you hear what I’ve come to say.”

One of the earl’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, then, I think you should out with it, then, don’t you?”

“I’ve compromised your sister.”

At first, there was no indication that Benedick heard Ralston’s confession. He did not move, or take his gaze from his visitor. And then he came to his full height and slowly removed his glasses, setting them on top of the papers he’d discarded before walking toward Ralston.

Standing in front of Ralston, Benedick said, “I assume we are talking about Callie?”

Ralston’s gaze did not waver. “Yes.”

“I don’t suppose that you are overstating the situation?”

“No. I’ve compromised her. Quite thoroughly.”

Benedick nodded thoughtfully, then punched him.

Ralston didn’t see the blow coming; he reeled backward, pain exploding in his cheek. When he straightened, Benedick was shaking off the residual sting in his hand calmly. He said, apologetically, “I had to do it.”

Ralston nodded calmly, testing the tender skin around his eye. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”

Benedick moved to a low table nearby and poured two tumblers of scotch. Offering one to Ralston, he said, “I suppose you had better explain yourself.”

Accepting the glass, Ralston said, “It’s quite simple, actually. I’ve compromised your sister, and I should like to marry her.”

Benedick sat down in a large leather chair and watched Ralston carefully for a moment. “If it is so simple, why did you arrive at my home sopping wet in the middle of the night?”

Taking the chair across from the earl, Ralston said, “Well, I suppose it is simple to me.”

“Ah.” Understanding dawned. “Callie has refused you.”

“Your sister is infuriating.”

“She does have a tendency to be so.”

“She won’t marry me. So I am here to enlist your help.”

“Of course she will marry you,” Benedick said, and a wave of relief coursed through Ralston—far more powerful than he would have liked to admit. “But I shan’t force her. You’re going to have to convince her.”

The relief was short-lived. “I’ve tried. She won’t hear reason.”

Benedick laughed at the surprise and frustration in Ralston’s voice. “Spoken like someone who did not grow up with sisters. They never hear reason.”

Ralston gave a small smile. “Yes, I’m beginning to see that.”

“Has she told you why she won’t marry you?”

Ralston took a long pull of scotch and considered his reply. “She says she loves me.”

Benedick’s eyes widened before he said, “That seems like a reason to marry someone.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He leaned forward in his chair. “How do I convince her of that?”

Benedick leaned back in his chair, met Ralston’s scowl and took pity on him. “Callie is a hopeless romantic. She has been since she was a little girl. It’s the natural result of our being the products of a complete and utter love match, her reading every romantic novel she could get her hands on over the last twenty years, and my own encouragement of her resistance to the institution of the loveless marriage. I’m not surprised she won’t marry you without the promise of love. So, it raises the question: Do you love her?”

“I—” Ralston stopped, his mind racing. Did he love her?

One side of Benedick’s mouth kicked up as he watched the thoughts play over Ralston’s face. “You shall have to do better than that when she asks you, old man.”

“I would make her a good husband.”

“I do not doubt it.”

“I’ve the money, the lands, the title to do it.”

“If I know Callie, she doesn’t care about any of that.”

“She does not. Which is yet another reason why she is legions better than I deserve. But you should care. So I am telling you.”

Benedick’s rich brown gaze locked with Ralston’s firm one, and understanding passed between them. “I appreciate it.”

“Then I have your blessing?”

“To marry her? Yes, but it is not my agreement you must secure.”

“I shan’t force her. But in order to convince her, I need some time with her. Alone. I should like it sooner rather than later.”

Benedick took a sip of scotch and watched Ralston carefully. Noting the frustration in his eyes, the tension in his form, the earl took pity on the man whom his sister was running ragged. “If Callie is half as distraught as you appear to be right now, she is in the library.”

Ralston’s brows snapped together. “Why would you tell me that?”

One side of Benedick’s mouth kicked up. “Suffice it to say I don’t like the idea of my sister even half as distraught as you look. Try the library. I shan’t bother you. But, dear God, don’t get caught by my mother, or there will be hell to pay.”

Ralston smiled halfheartedly at Benedick’s jest. “I shall try my best to keep a low profile, but, to be honest, your mother demanding I make it right might be the best way to secure precisely what I want.” He stood, squaring his shoulders as though he were about to do battle. Looking down at Benedick, he said, “Thank you. I promise that I shall consider it my life’s work to make her happy.”

Benedick tipped his glass at the marquess in acknowledgment of the vow. “As long as you make it your day’s work tomorrow to secure a special license.”

Ralston nodded his head in solemn confirmation that he would marry Callie as soon as humanly possible and left the room, crossing the darkened, quiet foyer to the door of the library. He set his hand to the door handle cautiously and took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse. He’d never been so on edge; so concerned with the outcome of a conversation; so willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. And yet, here he was, certain that the next few minutes would be the most important of his life.

He pushed open the door, his eyes immediately finding her in the dim light. She was curled in one of the large leather chairs positioned by the fireplace, her back to the door, one elbow propped on the arm of the chair, holding her chin as she stared into the flames. He noticed the swath of blue satin that spilled over the edge of the chair to just barely brush the floor; she was still in the lovely blue dress she had been wearing at the ball earlier in the evening. She sighed as he closed the door quietly and approached her, noting the column of her neck, the soft skin that ran along her collarbone and down to the trimmed edge of her gown. He took a moment to stand behind her, admiring her relaxed form, as she said, “I really don’t want any company, Benny.”

He didn’t say anything in response, instead moving stealthily around the edge of her chair and seating himself on the ottoman that she had pushed to the side when she had sat down. She turned her head as he sat, her breath catching as she sat straight up and put her feet to the floor.

“What—what are you doing here?”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and said, “I tried to stay away. But there are some things I must say.”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “If you’re caught…Benedick is in the other room! How did you get in?”

“Your brother let me in. He knows I’m here. And, I am afraid, Empress, that he is on my side.”

“You told him?” She was aghast.

“I did. You gave me little choice. Now, be quiet and listen, for I have much to say.”

Callie shook her head, not trusting herself to stand firm in her decision if he showered her with pretty words. “Gabriel—please don’t.”

“No. This is both of our lives you’re playing with now, Callie. I won’t have you making decisions without all the information.” She tucked her feet up under her and the image of her, curled into a little, sad ball, tugged at Gabriel’s heart. “You love me. Don’t you feel that you owe it to yourself to hear what I have to say on the matter?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned in embarrassment, “Oh, God. Please don’t bring it up. I cannot believe I told you.”

He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek, he spoke in a deep, gravelly tone, “I shan’t let you take it back, you know.”

She opened her eyes, and the look in them was wide and clear and nearly stole his breath. “I don’t take it back.”

“Good,” he said, “Now listen to me.” He didn’t know where to begin, and so he spoke the words as they came. “My mother was very beautiful—dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, delicate features, like Juliana. She was barely older than Juliana when she left us—fled to the Continent to escape her family and her life here. My memories of her are vague, but I remember one thing with complete certainty. My father was mad for her.

“I can remember sneaking out of my bed to eavesdrop on their conversations late at night when I was small. On one particular evening, I heard the strangest noise coming from my father’s study, and I crept down the stairs, curious. The hallway was dark—it must have been very late—and the door to the study was ajar.”

He stopped, and Callie sat forward in her seat, a sense of dread coursing through her at the story, this critical memory. She waited for him to continue. She would have waited all night.