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 nothing, 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.”
“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.”
He rocked back on his heels at her ire. “I never called you passive. There is nothing passive about you.”
With a tug, she extricated her hand from his grasp. She glared up at him, and for a fleeting moment he thought she might do him bodily harm.
When she turned on one heel and reached for the door, he flattened his palm against the cool mahogany, blocking her exit. “You may not be my servant or my family, Calpurnia, but we do have an agreement.”
She froze at the words, gaze locked on his hand. “I have lived up to my end of the bargain.”
“Juliana’s behavior this afternoon indicates otherwise.”
“Oh, please.” Callie scoffed. “We both know she is ready.”
“I know no such thing. I shall be the judge of her preparedness.”
“There were no such stipulations made when we discussed the agreement.”
“Nor were they expressly not made. I am making them now. You received what you requested. Or, have you forgotten?” The words sent a shiver down her spine. He was standing behind her, and she could feel the warm kiss of his breath on her bare neck, sending a river of heat through her.
“I have not forgotten.” The words came unbidden, and she closed her eyes.
He laid a hand on her arm and, with virtually no pressure, turned her to face him. When he met her eyes, the anger that had been there was gone, replaced by something much more complex. “Neither have I. And not for lack of trying.”
Before she could begin to consider the meaning behind his words, he settled his mouth upon hers, robbing her of thought.
“I’ve tried to forget that kiss…and the carriage ride…and the fencing club…but you seem to have taken up residence…in my memory.”
As he spoke between long, drugging kisses that consumed her senses, he guided Callie across the study and into a large chair near the fireplace. Kneeling in front of her, he cupped one cheek in a strong, warm hand, and met her gaze with a searing look. Shaking his head as though he couldn’t quite understand what had come over him, he kissed her again, growling low in the back of his throat. Her hands found their way into his thick, dark hair as he caught her bottom lip in his teeth, nibbling and licking at it until she thought she might perish from the intensity of the feeling. She whimpered at sensation, and he rewarded the sound by deepening the kiss, giving her everything she desired.
He broke off the kiss as one of his hands found its way under her skirts, caressing up the inside of her leg. He shifted her against him, running his lips across her cheek to the curl of her ear, sucking and nibbling and licking as he spoke to her, the scandalous words more sensation than sound.
“Such soft skin…” he said, as his fingers played along the inside of her thighs, driving her mad with desire as heat pooled at their juncture. “I’ve been wondering what you felt like here…” He shifted to gain better access to the skin high on the inside of her thighs, so close to the spot where she most wanted him. “Now that I know…I’m going to be consumed with thoughts of how this soft, lovely skin will feel against me…” He placed a soft, lush kiss on the column of her neck as his hand moved higher, closer to the center of her.
Her hands rushing across his chest and shoulders, eager for the feel of him, Callie sighed, squirming against him, desperate for his hands in that secret, dark place that she had just recently come to understand. He smiled against her neck, deliberately pulling back, lightly tracing his fingers back down her legs. He moved away from her and she opened her eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere, Empress,” he said with a wicked smile. “I merely want a better look.”
He had lifted her skirts even higher before she fully comprehended the meaning of his words and struggled to sit up. “No…” she said, embarrassed by the very idea that he might want to see such an intimate place.
He reached up, running one hand to the back of her neck and pulling her toward him for a searing kiss. When she had softened against him once more, he released her from the caress and said, “Oh, yes, Empress.”
He pushed her skirts high on her legs and gently parted her thighs once more, running his strong, knowing hands along the skin there. “So smooth and soft,” he murmured, placing soft, wet kisses on the inside of one knee and following a warm, wicked path up her leg, coaxing her open once more. Callie closed her eyes against the vision of him moving so sinfully against her, but could not help but open for him when he asked—she was entirely under his control, a victim of his passionate assault.
When he reached the junction of her thighs, he pulled back, marveling at the dark, glistening curls that shielded her sex. Brushing his fingers lightly against the soft down, he sent a shock of sensation through her. Her eyes opened, and she met his heavy-lidded gaze. He spoke, his voice coursing through her as his fingers played at her entrance. “I’ve imagined this moment, late at night, in the privacy of my bedchamber. I’ve thought of you, like this, open to me…entirely mine.”
The words sent a flood of liquid fire through her.
“I’ve imagined touching you like this…opening you, caressing you…” As he spoke, his actions mirrored his words, parting the delicate folds of her sex, stroking her wet heat. She gasped at the sensation, lifting her hips toward him, silently pleading for more. He circled the firm nub of her sex gently with the tip of his finger and watched as a shock of feeling coursed through her.
She moved toward him again, but this time he let his hands slide away from her…from the place where the world seemed to begin and end, and she cried out her disapproval. For a moment, she thought he would end it there, but instead he set his lips softly to the spot where her thigh and torso met.
When he lifted his head from the kiss, he said, “Do you touch yourself, lovely?” He ran his finger through the wet heat of her.
Callie squeezed her eyes shut at the question…she couldn’t speak…couldn’t answer him…couldn’t meet his gaze, dark with restrained passion. But he would not allow her to escape.
“Empress,” the nickname coaxed, as a single finger played at the entrance to her. “Answer me. Do you?” The words were barely a whisper, a lush, wanton sound that she couldn’t possibly respond to. That she couldn’t possibly not respond to.
She nodded, catching her lip in her teeth on a tiny whimper, the color raging across her cheeks a mixture of passion and embarrassment as his white teeth flashed and his fingers resumed their unbearable stroking.
“Here?” The word was a breath of sound, brushing against the sensitive skin of her thighs as he inserted a finger deep within her, and set his thumb to the tight place that set her aflame. “Do you touch yourself here?”
She gasped her reply. “Yes!”
A second finger joined the first, rubbing against the very heart of her, sending bolts of pleasure through her body—which was no longer her own to control. It was his. As she had always known it would be.
“What do you think about when you touch yourself here?” The words were spoken against her skin as he kissed across her torso toward the place where his hands were robbing her of thought. She bit her lip—she couldn’t tell him—couldn’t answer.
He placed a soft kiss on her rounded belly, looking up at her. “Empress…” His tone was cajoling, making her want nothing more than to tell him anything—everything.
His fingers delved deep, thrusting and stroking against her, his thumb circling the little button of fire that made her blood rush. She arched toward him, eager for more as his fingers retreated. Opening her legs wider, she whimpered at the loss of him, only to gasp when he blew on the soft hair that covered her mound, sending all coherent thought from her head.
“Lovely…” His tone was lazy; if it weren’t for his harsh breathing, she would have thought he was unmoved by the situation.
His thumbs separated the folds guarding the heart of her and, for a moment, she struggled, embarrassed by his actions, mortified by his interest as he dragged his gaze up her body to meet hers—his piercing blue eyes held a promise that she did not fully understand, but for which she was desperate.
“Callie…” His breath hit the heart of her, hot and intense.
“I—” Words escaped her as he blew firmly on her—a cool stream of air teasing the exact place where her pleasure seemed to pool. She gasped. He was killing her.
“Who do you think of?”
She couldn’t bear it.
“You.”
The word ended on a cry as his mouth rewarded her for her honesty. The sensation of his mouth on her turned Callie inside out. Her hands plunged into his hair as his tongue stroked, laving the soft, moist skin of her inner lips, tasting her wet heat with tiny circular movements that threatened to rob her of breath and sanity. She sighed at the pleasure he wrought, lifting against him, boldly asking for more even as she felt a wave of embarrassment course through her.
When his tongue found the swollen, aching nub at the center of her and circled it firmly, sending a wave of pleasure through her, Callie cried out his name and grasped his shoulders, in a twin attempt to push him away and lift toward him. In response, he grasped her hips firmly, holding her still as his lips closed tightly around the secret place, and he sucked, bringing her to the brink of pleasure with his lush, knowing mouth.
“No…” Callie panted, shaking her head against the powerful feelings coursing through her, “Gabriel…stop…”
He ignored her, licking more firmly, sucking more deeply, moving one hand to thrust a knowing finger deep inside her to coax forth more of her sweet rain. And then, as though he knew precisely what her body needed, he began to move faster, his fingers and tongue in perfect unison, chasing away all rational thought, bringing with them a wave of passion and unfathomable pleasure. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear any more, the wave crested, and Callie shattered, unable to do anything but give herself up to the sensation, pulsing against him, crying out his name as the world tumbled down around her.
His mouth softened against her, his fingers stilling as she regained awareness of the day, of the room. He lifted his head, watching her intently as she opened her eyes and met his gaze, filled with passion and satisfaction and something else she couldn’t identify. Stretching toward her, he took her mouth with a dark intensity that she did not recognize; the kiss felt more brand than caress.
Pulling away, he spoke, his voice harsh. “You do want me.”
The words pierced through the haze of emotion that had consumed her, and she stiffened immediately. With vivid clarity, she recognized the meaning in his words. It was not passion that had driven him to make love to her in his study in broad daylight, but rather a need to prove himself and his prowess. This was nothing more than a competition; she was nothing more than a prize to be won.
He didn’t want her…of course he didn’t. She was plain and missish.
The thought sent a vicious chill through her, and Callie sprang into motion, pushing at him with all her might, knocking him off-balance, suddenly desperate to get away from his mouth and hands and heat. She stood, haphazardly setting her skirts to rights as she stumbled past him and hurried toward the door of the room, putting distance between them.
“Callie—” he said, standing and following her. She turned at her name and, surprised to see him so near, she held one hand out as though she could stop him from coming closer. As though she could prevent him from becoming too deeply entrenched in her heart. As though it weren’t too late for that.
Hair mussed, cravat untangled, waistcoat unbuttoned, Ralston appeared every inch the portrait of debauchery. In that moment, there was no question that Gabriel St. John, the Marquess of Ralston, was a rake of the highest caliber. He’d likely had this very interlude with countless other women—likely to prove the same point. Callie shook her head, disappointed in herself. She so obviously meant nothing to him. How could she not have seen that?
Because you didn’t want to see it. You’re Selene. Doomed to love a mortal in eternal sleep. She closed her eyes at the thought, willing the tears not to come. At least, not until she was out of the room. Out of his house.
He raised an arrogant brow, his harsh breathing echoing around them. “Do you deny it?”
Hurt flared, and she could no longer hide it. When she spoke, her voice was small. “I don’t deny it. It’s always been you.”
She watched him react to the words, watched him register the truth in them. And then she said, “I just wish it were anyone else.” And with that, she turned and—pride be damned—she fled.
He watched her go, unmoving. When he heard the main door to the house close, signaling her exit, he swore roundly, the vicious sound echoing around the room.
Much later, Ralston sat at his piano, willing the instrument to perform the task it had done throughout his life—to help him to forget. He played with rigor—with a strength that brought unbridled sound from the instrument. The notes came fast and furious, his fingers flying across the keys as he closed his eyes and waited for the music to drive Callie from his mind. It’s always been you.
The music enveloped him, dark and venomous, stinging his senses as he lingered at the keys in the lower register, pouring his emotion into his playing. The sound, aching and lyric, punished him, reminding again and again of Callie’s expression, so wounded, so pained, just before she had escaped the house. Before she had escaped him.
I just wish it were anyone else.
He swore, and the sound was swallowed up by the piano. Her cool response to him—so very deserved—had nevertheless left him consumed with a desire to possess her. To brand her his own.
He’d pushed her to the limits of her awareness of herself, of her body, of her emotions. He’d known what he was doing; he’d sensed that he was going too far. But he couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. He’d been just as entangled in the moment as she had been. The king himself could have entered the study, and Ralston would have been hard-pressed to stop.
The truth of it shocked him, and his fingers paused on the piano keys. He shook his head, as if he could clear it of her memory. What was it about this woman? This plain, unassuming woman whom he had never before noticed? There is nothing about her that is plain or unassuming now.
And he hated himself for describing her as such.
No…Lady Calpurnia Hartwell was coming into her own in a spectacular way—entirely new and thoroughly different from every woman he had known before her. And it was her heady combination of innocent curiosity and feminine will that had lured him into behaving the way he did.
He wanted her. Viscerally. In a way he’d never wanted any woman before her.
Of course, he could not have her.
Nick had been right; Callie wanted love. Ralston had known that from the very beginning—she didn’t hide her belief in the power of the emotion, her unwavering faith in it. He paused in his playing, wondering what it would feel like to believe so strongly in the power of love to do good. To bring happiness.
He shook his head, bowing low over the keys of the piano. He’d never seen that side of love. He’d only seen the pain it wrought, the soul-crushing devastation that came when it was rescinded. A memory flashed, of his father professing his undying love for his wife. A wife who walked out on her duties as wife and mother without ever looking back. Twice.
So much for love everlasting.
He swore roundly. He might not agree with Callie’s assessment of love, but it did not mean that he had the right to treat her so unconscionably. He would not deny the pleasure he’d felt with her in his arms that afternoon, but he did admit his behavior was unacceptable. She deserved infinitely better.
He would apologize. Even if he did not regret his actions in the slightest.
He continued to play, the notes growing slower, more contemplative, reflecting the mood of their master.
Minutes later, a knock sounded, and Ralston stopped playing, turning on the piano bench to face the door. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if it was possible that Callie had returned, that it was she outside the door, waiting for him to allow her entrance.
“Enter.”
The door opened and he registered the woman who stood silhouetted in the bright lights of the hallway beyond. His sister.
He seemed inundated with females deserving of his apology.
“Juliana, come in.” He stood, reaching for a tinderbox and making quick work of lighting a candelabra nearby and waving her in the direction of a chair near the room’s large fireplace. “I had not noticed that it had grown so dark.”
“It is quite late,” Juliana said quietly, taking her seat and waiting while he lit several more candles and seated himself across from her. When she opened her mouth to speak, he stayed her words with a raised hand.
“Please, allow me to apologize.” Her eyes widened as he added, “I should not have lost my temper.”
A smile flashed. “It appears that the loss of temper is yet another something we have in common, brother.”
One side of his mouth kicked up. “So it does.”
Juliana sighed, relaxing into her chair. “I have come to fare la pace.”
Gabriel extended his legs, leaning back with a smile at his sister’s Italian. “I would very much enjoy making peace.”
She extended a large parcel wrapped in brown paper. “In Italy, we have an expression, a gift after an argument—it is an olive branch.”
He accepted the package. “It is the same in English.”
She grinned. “It is nice to know that some things do not change.”
“I should think you have had enough change recently.”
She dipped her head. “As you say.” Her gaze fell to the parcel. “Are you not curious about your gift?”
Gabriel looked down at the package, carefully wrapped and tied to best protect its contents, and he found he was filled with curiosity. How long had it been since he’d received a gift? A gift from someone who expected nothing in return? Looking back at his sister, he registered the expectant excitement on her face—her obvious hope that he would enjoy whatever was inside the simple, brown wrapping.
Yes. He was very curious.
He tore into the package, breaking the string that held the paper and shucking the wrapping. Turning the book over in his hands, he registered her thoughtfulness. “How did you know that I have a passion for Mozart?”
She smiled. “I have a bedchamber in this house, also. It is not difficult to recognize your favorite composer.”
He ran his fingers across the leather-bound cover with reverence. “I shall begin reading it tonight.” He met her eyes, all seriousness. “Thank you, Juliana.”
She gave a small, shy smile. “You are welcome. I am happy that you like it.”
“I do. Very much.”
He marveled at the fact that this girl who had been through so much, who had found herself unceremoniously delivered to the doorstep of a complete stranger two countries away, would have thought to purchase a gift for him.
“I do not have a gift for you.”
She laughed. “Of course you do not. Why would you?” When he seemed unable to find a decent response, she added, “We are family. This is what family does, is it not?”
He paused for a moment, thinking. “Actually, I haven’t any idea if this is what family does. It has been rather a long time since I’ve had anyone other than Nick.”
Juliana considered his words. “Indeed. Well then. Shall we make a decision now that this is what family does? At least, our family?”
“That sounds like a capital idea.”
Juliana clapped her hands quickly and grinned broadly. “Excellent!” She added in a casual tone, “Do you know, my lord, that I have always wanted a brother who would spoil me?”
He laughed at her feigned innocence. “Really? May I suggest you discuss that particular desire with Nick?”
Her eyes widened at his jest before she burst out laughing. “I think that is a marvelous plan!” Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “Do you think he will be very extravagant?”
“One can certainly hope so.”
“Indeed, she can!”
They settled into companionable silence for a few long minutes, and Juliana watched as Gabriel leafed through his new book. Finally, he looked up, and said, “When did you find time to purchase this?”
Juliana waved one hand in the air, and said, “Several weeks ago, Callie and Mariana and I were on Bond Street and discovered a bookshop there—that book came highly recommended—and Callie seemed to think that it would make an excellent gift for you.”
He stiffened at the mention of Callie. “Did she?”
Juliana nodded, “I find she gives excellent counsel.” When he shifted in his chair and said nothing, her eyes narrowed perceptively, and she said, “You look guilty, brother.”
Gabriel looked away, eyes focusing on the candelabra he had set nearby earlier. “I did rather an excellent job of running her off earlier. I imagine she is quite…vexed with me at the moment.”
“Ah,” she said, knowing and teasing in her tone. “You are saying that Monsieur Latuffe was not the only idiota in the room this afternoon.”
One side of Ralston’s mouth twitched in chagrin. “No. It appears not.” He relaxed into his chair. “Do you know, I do not think that anyone has ever spoken to me such?”
A smile flashed. “You are long overdue for a sister, my lord.”
He considered her words. “I think you may be right.”
“Callie, she is different from other women,” Juliana said, entirely overstepping her bounds. “She is so willing to do what she must to make a situation right.”
A vision flashed, Callie standing in the doorway of his study, so obviously hurt by the words she had overheard and yet so willing to defend Juliana to him—to tell him precisely where he had overstepped the bounds of brotherhood. As though her personal pride were somehow less important than Juliana’s happiness.
When he turned his attention back to his sister, she was looking at him with a knowing gaze. “I see you have noticed the same.”
“Yes. She is quite remarkable.”
“Perhaps you should apologize for your…” She waved one hand, searching for the word.
“Idiocy?”
She smiled. “If you like.”
He shifted in his chair, resting one leg over the other, and they grew quiet once more, each lost in thought. Finally, Gabriel spoke up, “Do you enjoy art?”
She looked up, curious. “I do.”
“I should very much like to take you to the Royal Art Exhibition.” He lifted his book. “To thank you for the gift.”
“You do not have to thank me for the gift. Remember? This is what our family does.”
He inclined his head. “Then, I would like for our family also to attend the Royal Art Exhibition.”
“Ah, well then. If you are going to make a rule of it…I suppose I have no choice but to accept your invitation.”
He laughed. “How very magnanimous of you.”
“I thought so.”
Gabriel leaned forward with a smile. “You know, Juliana, I think you may be long overdue for a brother.”
Juliana tilted her head again, in a gesture he was coming to find rather endearing. “I think you may be right.”