Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 65

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.”