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.”
“Is that what they were doing? Adding…levity?” Ralston’s dry tone struck true. Callie sucked in a breath, feeling Nick stiffen next to her.
“Oh yes!” the dance master said. “You see, your sister is not the most malleable student, and they…”
“Is that a criticism?” Juliana interrupted pertly from her place across the room, causing Callie to turn in surprise at the younger woman’s brashness, at which point Juliana added, “Well, would you like to be called malleable?”
“This is what I am trying to say! Précisément!” Latuffe’s hands flapped desperately. “What kind of a young lady speaks to her teachers with such disrespect?”
Juliana’s eyebrows snapped together. She turned toward the Frenchman, and said, hands flying through the air, “Perhaps if you were more of a teacher and less of un idiota, you would deserve my additional respect!”
The entire room froze at Juliana’s outburst. Before anyone could speak, Monsieur Latuffe spun on one heel to face Ralston. He spoke, his voice growing louder with each word. “This is why I make it a practice never to take on common pupils! Her lack of breeding is alarmingly clear!” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow dramatically.
The silence in the room was palpable. A muscle twitched in Ralston’s cheek before he spoke, anger turning his voice to steel. “Get out of my house.”
The Frenchman turned surprised eyes on Ralston. “Surely you cannot be angry with me, my lord.”
“It is refreshing to hear that you remain aware of your place with me, Latuffe,” Ralston said coolly. “I will not have you speak of my sister in such a disrespectful manner. You are relieved of your duties.”
Latuffe succumbed to a fit of inarticulate sputtering before flouncing from the room, the pianist following meekly behind.
The foursome that remained watched mutely as Latuffe exited before Juliana clapped her hands with glee. “Did you see his face? I wager no one has ever said anything like that to him! Marvelously done, Gabriel!”
“Juliana…” Callie began, stopping when Ralston raised a hand to stay her words.
“Juliana. Leave this room.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “You cannot mean to…I did not mean—”
“You did not mean to chase away the best dance master in all of London?”
Juliana scoffed, “He could not possibly be such a thing.”
“I assure you he is.”
“That is a sad truth for London.”
Nick’s lips twitched as Ralston’s flattened into a thin line. “You are going to have to learn to keep your thoughts to yourself, sister, else you shall never be ready for society.”
Juliana’s eyes darkened, signaling that her will was equal to that of her brother. “May I suggest you allow me to return to Italy then, brother? I assure you I shall be far less trouble there.”
“While I have no doubt of that, we agreed on eight weeks. You owe me another five.”
“Four weeks and five days,” she corrected tartly.
“Would that it were less. Leave this room. Do not return until you have decided to behave more like the lady that I was assured you were.”
Juliana looked at her eldest brother for a long moment, her eyes flashing fire before she spun on one heel and stormed from the room.
Callie watched her go before turning an accusing look on Ralston. He met her gaze with a cool one of his own, daring her to protest his actions. With a barely perceptible shake of her head to indicate her disappointment, Callie followed her charge into the depths of Ralston House.
He watched her go before looking to Nick. “I should like a drink.”
Callie found Juliana in her bedchamber, yanking dresses from her wardrobe. Eyeing the growing pile of silks and satins at
the younger woman’s feet and the wide-eyed maid who stood, uncertain, in the corner of the room, Callie smoothed the skirts of her gown and perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for Juliana to notice her arrival.
After long minutes punctuated only by Juliana’s heavy breathing and the occasional phrase muttered in disgusted Italian, she spun around, hands on her hips, to face Callie. Juliana’s eyes were wild with her frustration, her face pinkened with exertion and anger. She took a deep breath, then announced, “I am leaving.”
Callie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am. I am unable to remain here. Not one minute longer!” She turned away, heaving open a large wooden trunk with a litany of Italian in which Callie picked out the words for brother, bull, and artichoke.
“Juliana…” Callie said cautiously, “do you not think this is a bit…rash?”
Juliana’s head popped up over the top of the trunk. “What rash? I do not have a rash!”
Tamping down her smile at the girl’s misunderstanding, Callie pointed out, “Not a rash. You are being rash. Impulsive. Reckless.”
Juliana cocked her head, considering the new word before she shook her head. “Not at all! Indeed, I only expected him to realize that he hated me sooner.” She began to shove the dresses into the trunk, her maid looking to Callie in horror at the abominable treatment the gowns were receiving.
Callie would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so heated. “He does not hate you.”
Juliana raised her head, her disbelief evident. “No? Did you see the way he looked at me? Did you hear him wish that I were gone?”
Callie couldn’t help the little smile that came at the young woman’s outrage—outrage that only intensified when she registered her friend’s amusement. “You find this amusing?” she asked, accusation in her tone.
“Not at all—well—a bit,” Callie admitted, hurrying on when she saw Juliana redden. “You see—you’ve never had an elder brother.”
“No—and it appears that I have one who cares very little for the role!”
“Nonsense. He adores you. They both do.”
“Ha! There you are wrong! I am nothing but a disappointment to them!” She returned to the wardrobe and began yanking shoes from deep inside, her voice muffled as she spoke, “I am…a commoner…an Italian…a Catholic.” She threw shoes behind her as she spoke.
“I assure you, Ralston does not care about any of those things.”
“Ha!” Juliana turned around to face Callie, breathing heavily. “Perhaps not! But I assure you he most definitely cares that I am the daughter of his mother…a woman he despises!”
Callie shook her head. “I cannot believe that he would blame you for your mother’s…”
“That is easy for you to say, Callie. You did not have our mother!” Callie remained silent as Juliana began to thrust the shoes into the trunk. “Our mother was a terrible woman. Cold and utterly fascinated with herself. I remember very little of her except that she carried uno specchio—a mirror—with her always…so she could always look upon herself.” She slowed her words, losing herself to the memory. “She hated to be touched. Was always afraid of wrinkled or stained skirts.”
Juliana’s voice became quiet as she added, “I was not allowed to touch her. ‘Children have dirty hands’ she would say, ‘when you are older, you will understand.’” She shook her head. “But I do not understand. What kind of woman would not want her daughter to touch her? Not want her sons? Why would she leave us all?”
She looked down at the trunk, overflowing in a jumble of silks and satins, shoes and undergarments. “I dreamed of brothers—whom I could touch. Who would allow me to be messy. Who would play with me. And protect me. Una famiglia.” A small smile crossed her face. “And it turns out that I have them. She gave them to me.”
“That is something very good that she has done for you.” Callie moved to kneel next to Juliana, putting one arm around the younger girl.
“And now I have ruined it.”
Callie shook her head. “Arguments happen. I promise you that he does not want you to leave.”
Juliana looked up at Callie, her blue eyes so like Ralston’s. “I could love them.”
Callie smiled. “Good. As it should be.”
“But what if there is no place for me here? I am nothing like them. And, yet, what if I do not belong anywhere else?”
Callie held the younger girl in her arms as Juliana considered the questions—the answers to which would decide her future.
And in the long moments they sat in silence, Callie realized that only Ralston could make Juliana see that she had a rightful place here.
She had to find him.
Fifteen
Juliana did not deserve your censure.”
Ralston turned away from the large window overlooking the back gardens of Ralston House and met his twin’s blue gaze. “She called her dance master an idiot.”
“To be fair, she wasn’t entirely off the mark.” Nick crossed the study, offering Ralston a tumbler of scotch, which he gladly accepted. The two stood silently at the window, watching the sunlight play through the leaves, casting mottled shadows across the lush green garden.
After a long moment, Ralston looked at Nick. “Are you defending her?”
“Not at all. But your response was overmuch. She is more delicate than she seems.”
Ralston took a long drink of scotch. “Considering the murderous look she gave me, I’m not so certain that there is anything delicate about her at all.”
“Would you care to tell me what has set you off?”
“No,” Ralston said.
Nick left the window, moving to a large chair by the fireplace. Once seated, he took a long drink, waiting. The look Ralston cast over his shoulder at his brother would have sent a lesser man running from the room. Instead, Nick leaned back in his chair, and said, “It seems that after seeing Lady Calpurnia and me waltzing, you promptly took leave of your senses.”
“That’s rather overstating it.”
“I don’t think it is, Gabriel. You terrified the pianist, fired the dance instructor, and sent our sister fleeing the room, not to mention your insinuation that I was rather less than a gentleman.”
“Are you saying that you weren’t flirting inappropriately with the lady?” Ralston’s tone was bordering on peevish.
“Flirting? Yes. Inappropriately? No.”
Ralston looked back at the garden. Of course Nick hadn’t been flirting inappropriately.
As they’d matured, the twins had taken wildly divergent paths to shake off the mantle of their mother, who had so thoroughly destroyed the Ralston reputation. While Gabriel had enjoyed living up to the low expectations of the ton when it came to his womanizing ways, Nick, instead, had escaped those expectations altogether, spending nearly a decade on the Continent, entirely immersed in his work with antiquities. Certainly, his brother had had his fair share of women, but Ralston had never known Nick to attach himself to one publicly enough to garner even a modicum of gossip. The result? Women chased after both twins, but for vastly different reasons. Ralston was a well-known libertine; Nick was the perfect gentleman.
“In fact, we were talking about you,” Nick added, drawing a look of surprise from his brother. The younger St. John took the chance to drive his point home. “Tell me something. How does Lady Calpurnia happen to know that you play?”
There was a pause as Ralston processed the question. “That I play what?”
“The piano,” Nick said, as though speaking to a child.
“I don’t know.”
Nick sighed deeply. “You may avoid it, but it’s rather obvious, Gabriel. The only way she would know that you play…that you’re a virtuoso as she put it…is if she’d witnessed it. And I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you play outside of your bedchamber. It’s not exactly a habit that marquesses run around boasting of.”
He paused, waiting for his brother to speak. When Ralston said noth
ing, Nick continued, “So you’ve taken her to mistress.”
“No.” Ralston’s response was instant and vitriolic. He spun toward his brother, his muscles tense with barely contained violence. “She’s not my mistress. And I’ll see the next man who speculates such at dawn. I don’t care who he is.” The threat was clear.
It was Nick’s turn to look surprised. He blinked. “Well. That was enlightening. I’ll confess I’m happy to hear it. I had hoped she would not relinquish her honor so easily.”
When Ralston did not respond, instead glowering at his brother, Nick continued, “You understand, of course, that she is not the typical female with whom you tend to find yourself entangled.”
“We are not entangled.”
“No, of course not.” Nick waved a hand idly in the air and spoke wryly. “It’s quite common for you to come at me twice in one day over a woman.”
“I am attempting to keep her reputation intact. She is inexorably intertwined with Juliana. We cannot risk any gossip finding its way to our doorstep,” Ralston said, attempting to head Nick off.
“You’ve never cared much for reputations before,” Nick said wryly.
“I’ve never had a sister before.”
Nick raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I don’t think this about Juliana at all. I think this is about Lady Calpurnia. And I think you’re risking more than her reputation.”
“You needn’t feel it necessary to defend her honor to me, Nick. You saw the look she gave me before going after Juliana. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the last I saw of Lady Calpurnia Hartwell.”
“And you would be happy with such a turn of events?”
“Certainly.”
“Then it would be fine if I were to court her?”
The words hit Ralston like a physical blow. He tensed, eyes narrowing as he met his brother’s amused, knowing gaze.
“I see it would not be fine. Intriguing.”
“You go too far, Nick.”
“Probably. But someone must remind you of the truth.”