The Wedding Challenge (20 page)

The hours moved with excruciating slowness. All Callie wanted was to go home and throw herself upon her bed and cry, but she would not allow herself to leave early. She would not give anyone the opportunity to whisper about how upset she had been.

She knew that there were already whispers. Lord Bromwell had been so assiduous in his attentions to her recently that it was obvious to everyone there that he was not speaking to her tonight. She had felt the glances that were directed her way; she had seen the conversations stop in midsentence when she had looked toward someone. It made her pain much worse to bear—and at the same time, it made it all the more imperative that she not reveal that pain.

Francesca, she noticed, began to act tired long before she normally did, now and then covering a yawn with her fan, then apologizing prettily to those around her for her sleepiness. Callie suspected that she was doing it for Callie’s benefit, so that they could slip away from the party early.

It did not surprise her when Francesca announced that she simply could not remain any longer, and so they made their goodbyes. Callie let out a sigh of relief as she sat down in the carriage and leaned back against the soft leather seat.

“Thank you,” she said softly to Francesca.

“It was a dull party, anyway,” Francesca replied airily. She reached over and put her hand on Callie’s arm. “Are you all right, dear?”

Callie nodded. “Yes, of course. A little puzzled, I admit, but…” She finished her statement with a shrug.

Francesca nodded. Callie felt sure that she was not convinced by that answer, but Francesca was too well-bred to pry. Instead she merely said, “I suppose one should never underestimate the vagaries of men. However, I am convinced that Lord Bromwell’s behavior must have been influenced in some way by his odious sister.”

Callie could not keep from chuckling. “Dear Francesca. Trust you to make me laugh.”

“Yes. My mother once told me that I am able to make even the most serious matter trivial.” She paused and added drolly, “I do not believe she meant it as a compliment.”

Francesca, with her accustomed sensitivity, did not say anything on the rest of the drive home, and when they reached her house, she simply bid Callie good-night and went into her morning room to “see to a few matters,” leaving Callie alone.

Callie hurried up the stairs, the long-suppressed tears welling up in her. Her maid was waiting for her there, but Callie dismissed her with a few brief words, ignoring the girl’s puzzled expression.

Then, at last, for the first time tonight, she was alone. She stood there for a moment, letting down the barriers that she had kept raised all evening. She had refused to let herself feel, to even think about her pain, determined to present a cool and undisturbed face to the world. But now, at last, she let it sink in: Lord Bromwell’s ardor had cooled. For whatever reason, he was no longer interested in her. And she was going to have to live without him.

A deep, primitive sound came up out of her throat—part moan, part sob—and she threw herself across her bed and gave way to tears.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Callie was listless and red-eyed, but she refused Francesca’s offer to decline all callers.

“No, I must see them sometime, and I refuse to let anyone pity me. They will gossip, I know, about the fact that Lord Bromwell has grown tired of my company, but at least I do not have to give them further food for gossip by going into a decline.”

“You are a very brave girl,” Francesca said. “Unfortunately, I suspect that we will be inundated with callers.”

As it turned out, the number was not quite as large as Francesca had feared, but their afternoon was filled, and Callie was kept busy pretending that she had scarcely noticed Lord Bromwell’s absence, and that she cared about it even less.

It was a great relief, however, when it grew too late for calls and they were able to settle down to tea. Callie did not feel like eating, really, but no one would be allowed to disturb them, at least, at this hour.

Francesca had just begun to pour their tea, however, when the house echoed with the sound of a loud knock at the front door. Francesca and Callie glanced at each other, surprised, but continued with their tea. It was more surprising when Francesca’s butler appeared at the door a moment later, looking torn.

“Ah…” He hesitated, then continued in a rush, “His Grace, the Duke of Rochford, is here to see you, my lady.” Clearly, the duke was someone whom even Fenton did not dare turn down.

Francesca and Callie looked at each other, alarm dawning on their faces. It was, Callie thought, a dreadful end to a perfectly dreadful day. Sinclair must have gotten wind of Bromwell’s visits and had come to take her to task for it.

“Yes, Fenton, show him in, of course,” Francesca said, suppressing a sigh, and rose to her feet. Beside her, Callie did the same.

A moment later the duke strode into the room. He was dressed for riding, and it was apparent from the less-than-pristine condition of his boots that he had come straight to Francesca’s home without stopping at Lilles House to change. His dark hair was disheveled, his face grim, and there was a light in his eyes that did not bode well for either of the occupants in the room.

“What the devil has been going on here since I left?” he demanded curtly. “I received a letter from Grandmother saying you have been seen everywhere about town with the Earl of Bromwell. She said several of her correspondents have even hinted that we must be expecting an ‘important announcement’ soon.”

“I am sorry if Grandmother’s letters annoyed you, Sinclair,” Callie replied coolly. “But I really do not believe it was necessary for you to come in person to inform me of that fact.”

“Blast it, Callie!” he exclaimed. “Don’t adopt that innocent guise with me. I told you not to see that man again! And you—” He rounded on Francesca. “My God, how could you have been so lax, so irresponsible, as to allow that man to dance attendance upon my sister?”

“I beg your pardon?” Francesca’s voice iced over. “You have the impertinence to upbraid me over whom I permit to call on me at my home?”

“Could you not see what he was about?” Rochford growled. “Didn’t you know better than to allow a man who hated me to try to fix his attention with my sister?”

“If you disapprove so of whom I receive at my house, then no doubt you will wish to remove Callie from my care,” Francesca shot back. “If I am so lax in my standards, so uncaring of who I see or speak to, I can only be surprised that you allowed Callie to visit me at all.”

The duke looked startled; then his brows drew together in a rush, but before he could speak, Callie stepped forward, saying crisply, “No one is ‘removing’ me from anywhere. I am a grown woman, and I will stay where I choose.” She turned toward Francesca. “Unless, of course, you no longer wish me to remain with you because of my brother’s rude behavior.”

Francesca unbent enough to smile at Callie. “You are always welcome here, Callie. You know that.” Her quick sideways glance at the duke did not extend a similar invitation to him. She turned back to Callie. “Now I think it would be best if I left you and the duke alone to discuss the matter.”

“No, Francesca, truly, you need not leave—” Callie began.

Francesca stopped her with a shake of her head. “I do not believe that your brother feels the same say. Clearly the Earl of Bromwell and his family are a
personal
matter for the duke.”

She turned, sweeping Rochford a cool glance, and left the room, closing the door discreetly behind her. The duke watched her go, his jaw tightening even more. He swung back to face his sister, but Callie jumped in before he could speak.

“How could you have spoken to Francesca that way?” she asked, her eyes snapping. “You were absolutely abominable, acting as though you had some right to tell her what to do! Who she could see or not see! Really, Sinclair!”

“I am perfectly aware that I exercise no control over Lady Haughston,” her brother retorted stiffly. “However, I would have thought that she had better sense than to allow any man to hang about you so much that it is the talk of the City. Especially Bromwell, of all people!”

“Francesca was not to blame. She was very careful to provide me with chaperonage the entire time I have been here. No one would dare intimate that I have done anything scandalous.”

“No, of course not,” Rochford retorted impatiently.

“And how was Francesca to know that you would take it so amiss if an eligible gentleman paid court to me? She did not even know Lord Bromwell until I came here.”

“I thought it was enough that I explicitly told
you
not to see him,” Rochford retorted. “Obviously you paid no attention whatsoever to me.”

“I am not a child to be told what to do and whom to see, without any reason given for your orders! If there was something wrong with Bromwell, you should have told me what it was.”

Rochford shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

“What? What is so wrong with Lord Bromwell?” Callie pursued. “Why do you despise the man?”

“I do not despise him,” Rochford replied stiffly. “I have no feeling toward the man, bad or good. It is he who despises me. He has done so for years. I feared that he would try to attach himself to you in order to harm you…just to hurt me in some way.”

“Why?” Callie asked. “He has never said anything to me about hating you. I do not think he has ever spoken about you at all. Why would he dislike you so much that he would pursue me just to wound you?”

“It is not the sort of thing one discusses with a lady,” her brother began stiffly.

Callie’s dark eyes sparked with fire. “Then I fear that you and I have nothing else to say.”

She started toward the door.

“Blast it, Callie! I am trying to protect you.”

“I am sure that is very noble. But if protecting me means treating me as something less than an adult, than a person, then I do not want your protection.”

Rochford’s lips tightened. Callie sighed and, unexpectedly, tears sprang into her eyes. She started once again toward the door.

“Wait.” He turned, reaching out for her. “Callie, stop. Do not go. I will tell you.”

She turned and looked at him, waiting.

“Fifteen years ago, Bromwell challenged me to a duel.” He paused, then added, “For dishonoring his sister.”

C
ALLIE STARED
. “What? How could he think that?”

A faint smile touched the duke’s lips. “You do not ask me if the accusation was true?”

“Of course not. Really, Sinclair…what kind of a ninny do you take me for?” Callie replied astringently. “I know that you would not dishonor any woman, much less a lady. I am not naïve enough that I do not realize that you have had…relationships with women. But I am certain that they were perfectly aboveboard and…well, professional.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Why did I ever think you would be overset by such news?”

“I do not know. But I do wonder why Bromwell would have believed such a thing of you. He is not a stupid man.”

Rochford shrugged. “He was very young at the time, and he was badly misinformed. He did not know me. He did not know that I was not the sort to force myself upon a woman—or to seduce a woman of virtue. And it would not have been hard for him to believe that I had…formed an attachment to Lady Daphne. Half the men of the
ton
were…fascinated by her.”

“And were you?”

“No.” Her brother shook his head. “Indeed, at the time, I was interested in quite a different lady, but…Lady Daphne was interested in me. She was a young widow and was clearly intent on marrying more money than she had the first time. She was always a grasping sort, and she believed that no man was immune to her beauty. She seized on me as her next victim. But I had no interest in marrying her—or having anything else to do with her. When I made it clear to her that her hopes were in vain, she was furious with me.” He shrugged. “She was not used to being turned down. In retaliation, I suppose, she convinced her brother that I had played fast and loose with her affections. From what he said to me, I believe that she may have told him she was carrying my child.”

“No!” Callie gasped. “So he challenged you?”

Rochford nodded. “To pistols at dawn. He would not listen to me.”

“Did you meet him?”

“Of course not.” The duke grimaced. “Bromwell was nothing but a lad. Seventeen or eighteen, just a student at Oxford. I could scarcely let him throw away his life like that. And certainly I had no intention of deloping, when I had done nothing wrong.”

“You were not exactly aged yourself,” Callie pointed out. “Fifteen years ago? You were only twenty-three.”

“That may be, but I had had to grow up quickly because I came into my inheritance young. I had been running my estates for five years by then. I felt worlds older than that young hothead. But…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I did not handle the situation well. I was angry at Daphne for her lies and angry at…well, everyone, I suppose. I was short with the boy. I spoke to him sarcastically, contemptuously. I made it clear that I thought him a young puppy, not worthy of meeting on the dueling field. In short, I embarrassed him. And it was at my club, in front of a number of others. The young are very full of pride. He hated me, not only for what he perceived as my wrong to his sister, but also for humiliating him in the eyes of the
ton.
He went back to Oxford, but he held on to his anger, nursing it.”

Callie went to her brother and put her hand on his arm. “Sinclair, I am so sorry. I wish that you had told me.”

“It is not the sort of story one wants to tell one’s sister. It was not something in which I showed to advantage.”

“Lord Bromwell has hated you ever since?” Callie asked. She understood everything now—why Brom had pursued her, why he had stopped so abruptly. His only purpose in all of it had been to hurt her in order to get back at her brother. “Did he never learn the truth?”

Rochford shrugged. “I have heard from others now and then that he still despises me. Lady Daphne found someone else to marry her. I believe she never had a child, but that is easy enough to put down to an accident, another bit of tragedy befalling her. She was always a skillful liar. Her brother was not the only one whom she fooled.”

His face was grim, and Callie squeezed his arm sympathetically. “I am sorry. No one who knows you would believe you would play fast and loose with a woman, surely.”

“Perhaps they did not believe I acted dishonorably toward her. But there were those who believed that I was involved with her.”

“The woman in whom you were interested?” Callie asked him tentatively.

He gave her a faint smile. “She fell in love with another, I am afraid. I cannot blame all of that on Daphne. One cannot help where one loves, I have found.”

Callie frowned, swept with sadness. She had never thought about the possibility that her brother might have been in love once, or that he might have lost that love. It had, frankly, never occurred to her that any woman would not have leapt at the chance to marry him. She felt a little guilty, as well, that she had simply assumed Rochford was too cool and aloof for love, and that that was why he had remained single.

Rochford, as though sensing the thoughts stirring in her mind, spoke, returning to the subject of the earl. “In any case, I suspect that Bromwell may never have learned what his sister is really like. Love can blind one to all sorts of things. And neither of them has really lived much in the
ton.
I believe that he went abroad after he finished at Oxford, and then several years ago, when he inherited, he chose to live on his estates. Daphne’s second husband was wise enough to keep her close. She has not been much in society for several years. And I doubt that anyone is too likely to discuss his sister’s morals in front of the man. Perhaps he is still able to believe her an innocent victim.”

“He does, I think,” Callie said. “He did not tell me anything of what happened, but he has spoken very highly of his sister. Indeed, I met her. She was…very pleasant.”

“Oh, Daphne excels at subterfuge. There are those who like her—Great-Aunt Odelia, for one. I cannot blame Bromwell. I would despise any man whom I thought had hurt you in any way. As I feared
he
would hurt you.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know. I realize that now. I am too accustomed to regarding you as my baby sister. I forget that you are a woman—a very wonderful and intelligent woman.”

“Perhaps not so intelligent,” Callie replied, with a wry smile. “I did not see through Lord Bromwell’s deception. I believed that he was genuinely courting me. But now I understand why he was so assiduous in his attentions. But you need not worry. He has ceased calling upon me. I think that he must have sought his revenge on you in that way. He was very attentive, in order to make everyone take notice, and then, when he abruptly stopped, everyone was able to witness my embarrassment. I was the object of gossip. It was, in a much smaller way, the sort of thing that had happened to his sister.”

“I am so sorry, Callie.” The duke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “I would have given anything for you to avoid that hurt.”

Callie leaned her head against his chest for a moment, letting herself rely, just for a bit, on his strength, soaking up the feeling, as she had when she was a child, that Sinclair would somehow make everything better.

But then she pulled back and smiled up at him. “Do not worry. Clearly I would have been wiser to do as you said. I cannot escape the realization that I was hurt through my own rashness. Anyway, I am not so very hurt. I am chagrined, most of all, at my own foolishness. It is nothing more than a little social loss of face. Embarrassing, but nothing more. My good name is unsoiled. I can put up with a bit of gossip about me. It will all blow over in a few weeks. There will be some on-dit or other that will take precedence over my problem.”

“I feared that he had much worse intentions when I heard that he was courting you.” Sinclair smiled. “I should have realized that you would have the good sense not to let yourself be maneuvered into a compromising position.”

Callie, thinking of the kisses and caresses that she had shared with Bromwell, could not quite meet her brother’s eyes. “I do not know that he ever intended to do any more than make me a bit of a laughingstock.”

“I am glad to learn that he was not wicked enough to force his attentions upon you. Despite his dislike of me, I did have a certain respect for the man for his loyalty to his sister, however misguided he might have been.”

A silence fell on them. Rochford was clearly uncomfortable talking about such things with his sister, and Callie, rather guiltily aware of just how much freedom she had allowed Bromwell, had no desire to speak for fear the guilt would show in her voice.

Callie shifted a little. Rochford cleared his throat.

“I—um, I need to return to Marcastle. I left rather abruptly, and there are still several things that must be done. I also have some matters that require my attention at Dancy Park. So I shan’t be staying.” He looked at her, a faint smile quirking up his lips. “Do not worry. I will not try to compel you to return with me. I can see that you are well, and that you are quite able to take care of yourself. It was foolish of me to come tearing up to London.”

“A little,” Callie agreed with a smile. “Still, I am glad that you care about me enough to do so.”

“Of course. Your well-being is what matters. I did not come here because of ‘family duty’ or the ‘honor of the name’ or any of that.”

“I know.”

“But…if you would like to, um, get away from the city for a while, you are welcome to come home with me.” He cast a concerned glance at her.

“You mean until the talk about me dies down?” Callie asked. She shook her head. “No, I think not. I do not like being the object of whispers or amused glances—or pitying ones, either. But I refuse to run and hide just because of a little embarrassment. It would only give the matter more importance, anyway. It will be better, ultimately, if I stay and face it down.”

Pride was evident in his smile. “I suspected you would say that.”

“Francesca is quite helpful in that regard. It is much easier than it would be if I were alone—or with Grandmother.” She looked at him sternly. “You must apologize to Francesca for those things you said, however. It was not her fault. She did try to warn me a little—in a delicate way—by pointing out that his sister’s reputation was not the best. She said that she thought you might not like it—which of course I already knew. Now I understand why she was, perhaps, a little reluctant to explain further.”

“Yes, I imagine that she was.”

“She was meticulous about chaperoning me, even though I am sure that often it was a dreadful bore to her.”

“I realize that my words were uncalled-for. I had not told her that you were not to see him. And, in any case, I am aware that she has no control over you. I spoke out of fury. I will, of course, apologize to her. However, I fear that Lady Haughston’s opinion of me has been set for some years now.”

They found Francesca in the formal drawing room at the front of the house, sitting at the piano, not playing anything, but staring sightlessly across the top of it, her hands unmoving in her lap. They stopped in the doorway. Then the duke started forward into the room.

“Lady Haughston.”

Francesca turned at the sound of his voice and rose to her feet, wearing an air of cool civility like a cloak. “Your Grace.”

The corner of his mouth twitched with annoyance, but he said only, “You are right to be upset with me. I must apologize for the way I acted earlier. I had no right to reprimand you, as you pointed out. Naturally you and my sister are free to see whom you wish. In my defense, I can only plead my desire to protect Calandra. I hope you will forgive me.”

Francesca’s nod was regal as she replied, “Of course. You need not worry. I have never taken your criticisms to heart.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” he told her dryly. “I am returning to the country now. Callie would like to remain here with you, if that is acceptable.”

“Certainly. Callie is always welcome here.” A stranger might not have noticed the slight emphasis Francesca put on Callie’s name.

“Thank you.” He bowed. “Then I will take my leave of you.”

Callie walked her brother out. When they reached the front door, he cast a glance back toward the drawing room where Francesca stood.

“Do not worry,” Callie told him with some amusement. “I shall do my best to soften Francesca toward you. Anyway, I have never known her to hold a grudge long. She is a most forgiving person.”

“Is she?” He smiled faintly. “Do not trouble yourself over it, Callie. Lady Haughston and I are…accustomed to each other.”

He took his leave of her, and Callie watched him go, her forehead creased in a small frown. For the first time, she wondered exactly what lay between her brother and Francesca. She had always just accepted that Francesca was a part of her life, a friend of the family. She would have said that Sinclair and Francesca were friends, but now that she thought about it, she realized that there was something different in their manner toward each other.

There was not the easy, jesting affection that Francesca shared with Sir Lucien or with her brother Dominic. Nor did Francesca display the lightly flirtatious manner she often adopted with other men of the
ton.
There was, Callie reflected, even in the midst of a pleasant conversation, a sort of brittle quality between the two of them.

She recalled now the surprised expression on Francesca’s face when Callie had told her that she was one of the few people to whom Sinclair would have entrusted his sister. And just now her brother had sardonically referred to Francesca’s opinion of him as being “set” long ago, and he had not, she thought, implied that her opinion of him was a good one.