Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 68

“Which is?”
“Calpurnia Hartwell is not your kind of woman, Gabriel.”
“And what kind of woman is she?”
“The kind that wants love.”
“Love.” Ralston spat the word. “Callie knows better than to believe in fairy tales. One doesn’t get to be her age without understanding that love is a fool’s errand.”
“Callie, is it?” Nick asked.
“You’re lucky I don’t lay you out right now,” Ralston growled.
“Mmm,” Nick replied, noncommittally. He held his brother’s eyes for a long moment before standing and making his way to the door of the room. Once there, he turned back. “Just tell me one thing. The truth this time. Are you after her?”
Yes. “No,” Ralston scoffed. “What on earth would I want with such a plain, missish creature?” Not so plain; not so missish. Ralston pushed the thought aside. “Have you ever known me to pursue a woman like her? I need her for Juliana’s sake. That is all. It is not my fault if the girl finds me attractive.”
Nick nodded once at the words before pulling open the door, which had been ajar, to reveal Callie, wide-eyed and pale-faced. If Ralston were less in control of his emotions, he would have cursed violently.
It was obvious that she had overheard.
All thoughts of Juliana gone from her mind, Callie looked from one brother to the other and opened her mouth to speak, feeling that she must say something.
There was nothing to say, of course. Ralston had said quite enough.
She took a deep breath, his words seeming to echo around her. What on earth would I want with such a plain, missish creature? Well. At least now she knew the truth. Surely there was some comfort to be found in that.
None right this moment, of course, but…surely at some point…sometime in the future…the pain of his words hit her like a physical blow.
And then she felt the anger, surging around her like a vicious, welcome storm.
And she wanted nothing but to strike back at this arrogant, self-important man who seemed to be no kind of gentleman.
“Well,” she said, sarcasm seeping into her tone, as she pushed through the doorway to face Gabriel, “you seem to have a rather inflated view of yourself, my lord.”
Twin sets of ink black eyebrows shot up at her words and, while she did not take her eyes from the marquess, she heard Nick’s surprised cough, followed by, “I do believe I will seek out Juliana. Perhaps she is faring better than my other sibling.”
He bowed low, despite Callie’s summarily ignoring him, and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The sound spurred Callie into motion. “How dare you?”
Gabriel moved toward her. “I did not mean…”
She held up one hand to stay his words. “You ruined your sister’s dancing lesson, not to mention the rest of her afternoon.”
He stopped, surprised by the shift in topic. “She rather ruined it herself, don’t you think?”
“No. I think you ruined it for her. And for the rest of us.” She pulled herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders. “And I would thank you to remember that, since you need me for Juliana’s sake, you would do well to steer clear of our lessons before making a hash out of any more of them.”
He blinked at her icy words before saying coolly, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
She lifted her chin, defiant. “As a matter of fact, I was. It is unfortunate that the afternoon ended so abruptly.” She looked down her pert nose at him for a long moment before turning on one heel to leave the room. Her fingers had barely touched the handle of the door when she turned back. “You owe your sister an apology.”
He scoffed. “For what?”
“She is young and alone and terrified that she will disappoint you, Lord Ralston. You may say whatever you like about me, but do try to remember that she is delicate. And she needs you.”
“I am not a monster.”
She smiled, the expression not reaching her eyes. “No. Of course not.”
He had the distinct impression that she did not necessarily believe the words.
She turned back to the door, making to leave, and he spoke, his words flying across the room. “Is he an item on your list?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, stiffly, turning with all the disdain of a Queen.
He pressed on, as though speaking to a simpleton. “Nicholas, Callie. My brother. Is he an item on your list? Number three: Land St. John?”
Callie’s eyes widened. “You think I’ve put your brother on my list?”
“That’s exactly what I think.” His eyes flared with a barely contained emotion that she couldn’t quite identify. “Did you?”
She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at the ridiculous query. “No, Ralston. I didn’t. I assure you that were there a conquest on my list, it would not be your brother.”
“Who would it be?”
Against my better judgment, it would be you, you cabbagehead. “I am through with this conversation.” Callie made to turn back to the door. And then he was next to her, grabbing her hand firmly, spinning her toward him. The warm heat of his skin sent a shock through her; she fought to ignore it.
“I am not through with it.”
“Lord Ralston,” Callie said, eyes flashing with unbridled anger, “you appear to be laboring under the misapprehension that I am in some way beholden to your whims. Allow me to set you to rights. You may be able to direct your servants and your family as you see fit, but I fall into neither of those categories. And while I may be a plain, missish, passive creature, I am through with being ordered about by you. I am leaving.”