Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (4 page)

Seeing no salvation in her future, she settled for waving down a footman with a tray of sherry. Selecting a glass for herself, she turned to her aunt, asking, “May I offer you a refreshment, Aunt Beatrice?”

“Dear me, no! I cannot stomach the stuff,” the elderly woman spoke, a note of indignation in her tone. “You know, Calpurnia, drinking wine in company is liable to damage your reputation.”

“Yes, well, I should think there’s no need for me to worry about that this evening, don’t you agree?”

“No, I suppose your reputation is not at risk, Calpurnia.” Aunt Beatrice patted her arm with unconscious condescension. “It is a tragedy, that, isn’t it? You couldn’t have predicted it. With your dowry, no one would have expected you never to marry.”

The implication that only her dowry served to recommend Callie as a wife clouded her consciousness with shock and anger. Before she could respond, Aunt Beatrice had pressed on.

“And now, at your age, we should simply give up hope. It’s virtually impossible to imagine someone offering for you. Unless, of course, it was an older gentleman seeking companionship as he shuffles off this mortal coil. Perhaps that could happen.”

A vision flashed through Callie’s mind, a pleasing fantasy that ended with Aunt Beatrice doused in sweet red wine. Shaking herself from her reverie, she carefully set down her glass and returned her focus to her aunt, who was still speculating on Callie’s spinsterhood.

“Of course, it does not help that your figure is—well—rather less than desirable? After all, we are long past the days of Rubens, Calpurnia.”

Callie was struck mute. She could not have possibly heard the odious woman correctly.

“Have you considered a diet of boiled eggs and cabbage? I hear it works wonders. Then you would be less…well, more!” Aunt Beatrice cackled, entirely amused by and thoroughly oblivious to her own rudeness. “And then, perhaps we could find you a husband!”

Callie had to escape before she did serious damage either to a member of the family or to her own sanity. Without meeting Beatrice’s eyes—she could not guarantee that she wouldn’t say something thoroughly nasty to the horrible woman—Callie made her excuses, “Pardon me, Aunt, I think I should see to the…kitchens.” She didn’t care that the explanation made little sense, what with dinner long over; she simply had to flee.

Holding back tears, Callie escaped to her brother’s study—the nearest room where she knew wayward guests would not disturb her. Guided by the moonlight spilling in through the enormous windows that lined one wall of the study, she made her way to the sideboard and retrieved a glass and a bottle of sherry before moving to a large chair in the far corner of the room that had long been a sanctuary for Allendale men.

It will have to serve the purpose for an Allendale female tonight, she thought, letting out a long, slow breath as she poured herself a glass of sherry, set the heavy crystal decanter down on the floor, and threw her legs over one arm of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“What has you sighing, sister mine?”

Callie gave a little start, turning in the direction of the imposing mahogany desk at the other side of the room. She saw the shadowed figure behind it and smiled broadly into the darkness. “You startled me.”

“Yes, well, forgive me if I don’t apologize. You entered my lair.” Benedick Hartwell, Earl of Allendale, rose and moved across the room to seat himself in the chair opposite Callie. “I hope you have a good reason, or I shall have to send you back.”

“Oh? I should be interested in seeing how you accomplish that, as you cannot reveal my escape without calling attention to your own,” she teased.

“Too true.” Benedick’s white teeth flashed. “Well, then, you can stay.”

“Thank you.” She toasted him with her glass of sherry. “You are too kind.”

Benedick swirled a glass of scotch lazily as Callie drank deeply and relaxed in the chair with her eyes closed, enjoying their companionable silence. After several minutes, he spoke. “And so, what sent you fleeing the familial rite?”

Callie did not open her eyes. “Aunt Beatrice.”

“What did the old bird do now?”

“Benedick!”

“Are you about to tell me that you don’t think of her in a remarkably similar way?”

“Thinking of her in such a manner is one thing. Saying it aloud is quite another.”

Benedick laughed. “You are too well behaved for your own good. So what did our dear, revered, valued aunt do to send you fleeing to a darkened room?”

She sighed, refilling her glass. “She did nothing that no other member of the two families represented in that room failed to do. She simply did it more rudely.”

“Ah. Marriage.”

“She actually said—” She paused, taking a deep breath. “No. I will not give her the pleasure of repeating it.”

“I can imagine.”

“No, Benny. You cannot.” She sipped her sherry. “I vow, had I known that this was how spinsterhood would be, I would have married the first man who proposed to me.”

“The first man who proposed to you was an idiot vicar.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the clergy.”

Benedick snorted and took a long pull of scotch.

“Fine. I would have married the second man who proposed. Geoffrey was quite attractive.”

“If you hadn’t turned him down, Callie, Father would have. He was an inveterate gambler and a notorious drunk. He died in a gambling hell, for goodness sake.”

“Ah, but then I would be a widow. No one insults widows.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure that’s true, but if you insist…” Benedick paused. “Do you really wish you were married to one of them?”

Callie drank again, letting the sweet wine linger on her tongue as she considered the question. “No, not to anyone who has ever asked me,” she said. “I wouldn’t like to be chattel to some horrible man who married me only for money or land or to be aligned with the Allendale earldom…but I wouldn’t refuse a love match.”

Benedick chuckled. “Yes, well, a love match is an entirely different thing altogether. They don’t come along every day.”

“No,” she agreed, and the two lapsed into silence. After several long moments of contemplation, Callie said, “No…what I would really like is to be a man.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I would! For example, if I told you that you had to spend the next three months suffering unfeeling remarks related to Mari’s wedding, what would you say?”

“I should say, ‘Hang that,’ and avoid the whole thing.”

Callie used her sherry glass to point in his direction. “Exactly! Because you are a man!”

“A man who has succeeded in avoiding a great number of events that would have led to criticism of my unmarried state.”

“Benedick,” Callie said frankly, raising her head, “the only reason you were able to avoid those events is because you’re a man. I, unfortunately, cannot play by the same rules.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because I am a woman. I cannot simply avoid the balls and dinners and teas and dress fittings. Oh, God. Dress fittings. I’m going to have to suffer through all these horrid piteous stares again…while Mariana is in her wedding gown…in a modiste’s shop. Oh, God.” She covered her eyes against the image.

“I still fail to see the reason why you cannot just avoid the horrid events. Fine, you have to be at the ball announcing their engagement. You must attend the wedding. But beg off everything else.”

“I cannot do that!”

“Again, I ask, whyever not?”

“Decent women no more beg off events like that than they take lovers. I have a reputation to worry about!”

Now it was his turn to snort. “What utter nonsense. Calpurnia. You are twenty-eight years old.”

“It’s not very gentlemanly of you to speak of my age. And you know I hate it when you call me Calpurnia.”

“You’ll suffer through. You are twenty-eight years old, unmarried, and have, quite possibly, the most pristine reputation of any member of the ton, no matter their gender or their age. For God’s sake, when was the last time you went anywhere without your lace cap?”

She glared at him. “My reputation is all I have. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Benedick.” She reached down to pour another glass of sherry.

“Indeed, you’re right. It’s all you have now. But you could have more. Why not reach out and take it?”

“Are you encouraging me to tarnish our good name?” Callie asked incredulously, freezing, decanter in one hand, glass in the other. Benedick raised one eyebrow at the tableau. Callie set the bottle down. “You do realize that if I do so, you, as the earl, will likely suffer the repercussions?”

“I’m not suggesting you take a lover, Callie. Nor am I hoping that you’ll cause a scene. I’m simply arguing that you hold yourself to a rather high standard for…well…someone who need not worry so much about a slight mark on her reputation. I assure you, skipping odious wedding-related events will not impact the state of the earldom.”

“While I’m at it, why not drink scotch and smoke a cheroot?”

“Why not?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Callie, I feel certain that the house will not crumble around us if you have a drink. Though I’m not certain you would enjoy it.” He let silence stretch out for several minutes before continuing. “What else would you want to do?”

She thought carefully about the answer to that question. What if there were no repercussions? What would she do? “I don’t know. I’ve never allowed myself to think of such things.”

“Well, allow yourself now. What would you do?”

“As much as I could.” The answer came fast, surprising them both, but once the words were spoken, Callie realized the truth in them. “I don’t want to be impeccably mannered. You’re right. Twenty-eight years of perfect behavior is too long.” She laughed as she heard herself say the words.

He joined her. “And, so? What would you do?”

“I would throw away my lace cap.”

“A given, I would hope.” He scoffed at her. “Come now, Calpurnia. You can be more creative than that. No repercussions, and you choose three things you can do in your own home?”

She smiled, cuddling deeper into her chair, warming to the game. “Learn to fence.”

“Now you’ve got it,” he said, encouragingly. “What else?”

“Attend a duel!”

“Why stop there? Use your newfound fencing skills to fight one,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I actually want to hurt anyone.”

“Ah,” he said, all seriousness, “so we have found the line you do not wish to cross.”

“One of them, it seems. But I should enjoy firing a pistol, I think. Just not at another person.”

“Many do enjoy that particular activity,” he allowed. “What else?”

She looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Learn to ride astride.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Really. Sidesaddle seems so…missish.”

He laughed at her disdain.

“I would—” She stopped as another item flashed through her mind. Kiss someone. Well. She certainly couldn’t say that aloud to her brother. “I would do all the things men take for granted. And more,” she said. Then, “I would gamble! In a men’s club!”

“Oh ho! And how would you manage that?”

She thought for a moment. “I suppose I should have to masquerade as a man.”

He shook his head in amusement, “Ah…mother’s Shakespeare fascination finally becomes relevant to our lives.” She giggled as he continued, “I think that’s where I would draw the line. The Earls of Allendale could lose privileges at White’s if you tried that.”

“Well, lucky for you, I am not about to attempt to sneak into White’s. Or do any of those other things, either.” Was that disappointment in her tone?

Silence descended again, both siblings lost in their own thoughts, until Benedick raised his glass to his lips to finish his drink. Before it reached his mouth, he paused and, instead, held the glass out, arm extended toward his sister in a silent offer. For a fleeting moment, Callie considered the crystal tumbler, knowing full well that Benedick’s offer was for more than the finger of scotch left in the glass.

She shook her head finally, and the moment passed. Benedick threw back the liquid and spoke again. “I am sorry about that,” he said, rising from his chair. “I should be happy to hear of you taking a risk or two, sister.”

The comment, spoken carelessly as he moved to leave, landed heavily on Callie’s ears. She barely listened to the dry question that followed, “Do you think I’m safe in leaving this room? Or will we have to hunker down until the wedding?”

She shook her head distractedly, and replied, “I should think you’re safe. Tread carefully.”

“Will you join me?”

“No, thank you. I think I shall remain here and ponder a life of adventure.”

He grinned at her. “Excellent. Let me know if you decide to set sail for the Orient on the morrow.”

She matched his smile with her own. “You shall be the first to hear of it.”

With that, he made his exit, leaving Callie to her thoughts.

She sat for a long while, listening as the sounds of the house quieted, guests leaving, the family retiring to bed, the servants clearing the rooms that were used for the dinner, all the while playing the last moments with Benedick over and over in her mind and wondering, What if?