Callie brushed aside her tears as she sat curled on the window seat in her bedchamber, considering the events of the evening.
How could she go on without him? And, at the same time, how could she go on knowing that every moment of their time together had meant so little to him—designed only to win him a wager and launch his sister into society.
It couldn’t be possible. Every ounce of her rejected the thought that he would have used her so callously.
And yet, he hadn’t denied it.
And why should she not believe it? The Marquess of Ralston—inveterate rake—would not have thought twice about using her for his personal gain. Hadn’t he done so? From the very beginning? He’d bargained his kisses for her support of his sister. Why should she have ever believed he might have changed?
She’d so believed he could—that decades marked by disdain for emotion could have been nothing more than a faint memory in his checkered past. That she could love him enough to prove to him that the world was worth his caring, his trust. That she could turn him into the man of whom she had dreamed for so long.
That was perhaps the hardest truth of all—that Ralston, the man she’d pined over for a decade, had never been real. He’d never been the strong and silent Odysseus; he’d never been aloof Darcy; never Antony, powerful and passionate. He had only ever been Ralston, arrogant and flawed and altogether flesh and blood.
And, he’d never pretended to be anything else. He’d never plied her with false professions of love, never fooled her into believing that he was anything more than what he was. He had even said it himself; he’d only needed her for Juliana’s sake.
Juliana’s sake and two thousand pounds, it seemed. Not that he needed the money.
That almost made it worse.
She bowed her head as another wave of tears came on a crest of sadness.
Oh, Callie. How did you come to be such an idiot?
Even as she’d come to know the real Ralston—the Ralston who was not cut from heroic cloth—Callie had failed to see the truth. And, instead of seeing her own heartbreak coming, she had fallen in love, not with her fantasy, but with this new, flawed Ralston.
And, while she had been so caught up in the idea that he might change, tonight it was clear that the powerful metamorphosis she had witnessed was not his.
It was hers.
And it was due almost entirely to him.
She stared blindly at the crumpled, stained list clutched in her hand—the list that had begun as hers but that had somehow become theirs. Her heart clenched as she realized that Ralston had been an integral part of this new, bold, adventurous Callie, that he had guided her through each item on the paper. She was forever changed because of him.
How would she survive such heartache? How would she forget that she was so very much in love with him?
She had no idea.
She did know, however, that she could not spend one more moment in this room. She leapt from her seat and crossed the bedchamber with purpose, pulling open the door and moving silently through the quiet house to Benedick’s study. She was going to try her hand at getting foxed again. Men seemed to take comfort in the experience when they were at their lowest lows; what was stopping her from doing the same?
Entering the room, she halted just inside, surprised to find her brother seated behind his enormous desk, staring off into the distance. He turned toward her at the sound of her feet on the wooden floor, and she watched as a shadow passed over his face. “Callie,” he said, and there was something in the way he spoke her name that made tears well in her eyes once more. “It’s four o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, beginning to back out of the room.
“No.” He waved a hand in her direction, beckoning her to come inside. “Stay.”
She did, closing the door softly behind her before padding over to the desk and seating herself in a comfortable chair across from him. She pulled her bare feet up under her. “You know,” she said, her voice trembling with unshed tears, “when I was a little girl, I used to sit in this chair, in my nightgown, and watch Father shuffle papers around that desk. For the longest time, I didn’t understand why he had so much work to do. I mean, wasn’t everything—the title, the house, the land, the things—weren’t they simply his?”
Benedick nodded at her words. “I felt the same way. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that all those things actually make work, and that Father wasn’t pretending.”
She smiled a watery smile. “It’s amazing. Here I am, in my nightgown, in this chair, looking at you. So little has changed.”
Benedick met her eyes. “Callie?”
The tears came then, silent and quick, running down her cheeks. She shook her head, looking down at her lap, worrying the fabric of her nightgown. “I thought I could change him.”
Benedick sighed.
“I see now that I cannot. I just…I thought I could convince him to love me.”
He sat for a long time, considering his words carefully. “Callie…love grows. Not everyone has an instant love match like Mother and Father. Like Mariana and Rivington. Ralston has been alone for a long time.”
Tears welled. “I love him,” she whispered.
“Is it not possible that he might love you as well?”
“He wagered two thousand pounds on my future, Benny.”
A ghost of a smile played across his lips. “I will not deny the fact that he was something of an imbecile to do such a thing…but I cannot imagine that the wager was anything more than a point of pride.”
“Pride?”
He nodded. “Male pride.”
Callie shook her head. “Your gender is utterly bizarre.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But that doesn’t mean he loves me. I am not sure he cares for me at all.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Benedick waited for her to look at him. “I would like nothing more than for you and Ralston never to see each other again, Callie, with the level of scandal that the two of you created tonight—and that’s not even considering the countless other scandals that you’ve most definitely orchestrated outside of my knowing—not that I ever want to know about them.” He paused. “However, you forget that I saw him last night. He came to me before he went to you in the library. He cares for you. I know it, or I never would have given him my blessing.”
“You’re wrong,” Callie whispered. “I thought I could love him enough for both of us. But I cannot.”
Silence fell between them, and Benedick watched as tears stained his sister’s cheeks. Finally, he spoke. “Callie…Ralston called Oxford out tonight.”
Callie’s head snapped up. She was certain that she had misunderstood her brother, “I—I beg your pardon?”
“He’s challenged Oxford to a duel.”
Callie shook her head, attempting to clear it of the fog that had just come over her. “No. It can’t be true. Are you sure it was he? And not St. John? They are twins, you know. It can be confusing.”
“Yes, Callie. I am aware that they are twins. I am also quite certain that the dueling parties are Ralston and Oxford, as I witnessed the whole thing. And, considering the duel is over you…”
“Me?” Callie squeaked. “Ralston would never duel over me. I’m not worth risking his life. I mean, it’s not as if he loves me, Benedick,” she scoffed, meeting his concerned gaze. Benedick remained silent as she considered the words. “Oh, my God.”
“He may not love you, Callie. But I’d wager he feels something rather impressive for you, or he and Oxford would not be choosing their seconds as we speak.”
He was risking everything for her.
If that was not change, what was?
Callie’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God.” She leaned toward him, reaching across the desktop to grab his arm. “Benedick, you have to take me there.”
“Callie…” Benedick shook his head. “I cannot take you there. You know that.”
She shot up from her chair, announcing, “Benedick! He could die!” And she went tearing out of the room, up the wide center staircase and back into her bedchamber, Benedick hot on her heels. She threw open her door with a crash and rushed to her armoire to retrieve a dress from inside. “He could be killed!” she cried.
Benedick closed the door behind him, attempting to keep Callie calm with a soft, steady tone. “He won’t be killed, Callie. Duels rarely go that route anymore.”
She turned to him, arms laden with muslin. “Am I mistaken in how they operate, Benedick? Twenty paces, turn, and fire? A pistol? A loaded pistol?”
“Well, yes,” Benedick conceded the point, adding, “But death is not usually the expected outcome. I mean, one could go to prison for killing someone in a duel, for heaven’s sake.”
“Ah, so it’s a sort of gentlemen’s agreement?”
“Exactly.”
“Really more for show than for purpose.”
“Quite,” he said, pleased that she understood.
Her eyes narrowed on him. “And, what if one of the gentlemen in question is a poor shot?”
Benedick’s mouth opened, then closed.
Callie shook her head and moved behind her dressing screen. “You’re taking me.”
Her nightgown was almost immediately tossed over the top of the screen. Benedick threw up his hands at the indignity of the moment and turned his back to the general area. “I am not taking you, Callie. You shall wait here, as women do.”
“I most certainly shall not! I am no longer meek and biddable!”
“You labor under the misconception that you were ever meek and biddable!”
Benedick turned to find Callie dressed and yanking on a pair of walking boots. Her eyes flashed. “You have two options, Benedick. You may escort me like a good brother, or you may stand aside as I leave this house and travel through London in the dead of night by myself.”
“You’ll never find it.”
“Nonsense. You forget I am well acquainted with a public house or two in this city. I’m sure news of a duel involving one of London’s best-known aristocrats travels fast.”
His eyes widened. “I shall lock you in!”
“Then I shall climb down the trellis!” she announced.
“Damn it, Callie!”
“Benedick, I love him! I’ve loved him for a decade. And I had him for one day before I made a complete and utter mess of things. Or he did. I’m still not sure about that. But you cannot really believe I won’t fight to save him?”
The words hung between them as brother and sister faced off.
“Please, Benny,” she said softly, plaintively. “I love him.”
The Earl of Allendale gave a long sigh.
“Lord, deliver me from sisters. I shall call for the curricle.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nick leaned against a lone rowan tree, hunching his shoulders against the cold morning mist and watching as Ralston checked his pistol. “You could be killed.”
“I shan’t be killed,” Ralston said distractedly, looking across the wide expanse of field that Oxford had chosen as the location for their duel.
“Better men than you have said as much, Gabriel. I don’t want to have to put you in the ground.”
“It would serve you well,” Ralston said morbidly as he meticulously packed the gun with powder. “You’d be a marquess.”
“I have been around you long enough to know that I do not actually want to be a marquess, thank you.”
“Well then, I shall endeavor to retain my title.”
“Excellent.”
Silence fell as the brothers waited for the arrival of Oxford and his second. The duel was set for dawn, and the field was bathed in a pale gray light that stole the color from the lush spring landscape and turned the setting bleak.
After several long minutes, Ralston said, “I cannot let him get away with saying such things about her, Nick.”
“I understand.”
“She deserves so much more.”
“She deserves you. Alive.”
Ralston turned to his brother, meeting his gaze firmly. “You must promise me something.”
Nick knew immediately what Ralston was going to say. “No.”
“Yes. You must. You’re my brother and my second. You haven’t a choice but to hear and accommodate my last wish.”
“If this is your last wish, I shall follow you into hell to ensure that you pay for it.”
“Nevertheless.” Ralston looked up at the sky, pulling his greatcoat closer for warmth. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
“You will take care of her, yourself, brother.”
Brilliant blue gazes met. “I swear before you and God that I will. But if something should happen, and this morning should go awry, promise me you’ll take care of her. Promise me you’ll tell her…” Ralston paused.
“Tell her what?”
Ralston took a deep breath, the words bringing a tightening in his chest. “Promise me you’ll tell her that I was an idiot. That the money didn’t matter. That, last night, faced with the terrifying possibility that I had lost her…I realized that she was the most important thing I had ever had…because of my arrogance and my unwillingness to accept what has been in my heart for too long…” He trailed off. “What the hell have I done?”
“It appears that you’ve gone and fallen in love.”
Ralston considered the statement. The old Ralston might have scoffed at the words—so pedestrian and fantastic and terrifying—instead, he felt warmth spread through him at the idea that he might love Callie. And that she might love him back. Perhaps he had, indeed, “gone and fallen in love.”
Nick continued, unable to keep the smug smile from his lips. “Shall I tell you what I would do if I discovered I’d been a royal ass and had lost the only woman I’d ever really wanted?”
Ralston’s eyes narrowed on his brother. “I don’t imagine I could stop you.”
“Indeed not,” Nick said. “I can tell you I wouldn’t be standing in this godforsaken field in this godforsaken cold waiting for that idiot Oxford to shoot at me. I would walk away from this ridiculous, antiquated exercise, and I would find that woman and tell her that I was a royal ass. And then I would do whatever it takes to convince her that she should take a chance on me despite my being a royal ass. And once that’s done, I would get her, immediately, to the nearest vicar and get the girl married. And with child.”
A vision flashed of Callie full and rounded with his child, and Ralston closed his eyes against the pleasure of it. “I thought that allowing myself to love her would turn me into Father. I thought she would make me weak. Like him.”
“You’re nothing like Father, Gabriel.”
“I see that now. She made me see it.” He paused, lost in the memory of Callie’s big brown eyes, her wide, smiling mouth. “My God, she’s made me so much more than what I was.”
The statement, filled with surprise and wonder, was punctuated by a shout from across the field as Oxford, Lord Raleigh, his second, and a doctor came into view.
Nick swore under his breath. “I’ll confess, I’d hoped that Oxford was soused enough last night not to remember.”
He took the pistol from Ralston and walked out to meet Raleigh and arrange the rules of the duel. As was customary, Oxford approached Ralston, fear in his eyes, and extended his hand. “For what it’s worth, Ralston, I apologize for what I said about Lady Calpurnia. And, I thought you’d like to know that, while I do not have the two thousand now, I shall find a way to pay the debt.”
Ralston stiffened at the reference to the stupid wager that had caused so much pain and unhappiness. He ignored Oxford’s proffered hand, and instead met the baron’s concerned gaze, and said, “Keep the money. I have her. She’s all I want.”
The truth of the statement was rather overwhelming to Ralston, and he found himself exhausted by the very idea of a duel now that he’d discovered just how much he wanted to be with Callie. Why was he standing in a cold, wet field when he could be sneaking into Allendale House, climbing into her warm, welcome bed, and showering her with apologies until she forgave him and married him immediately?
Nick and Raleigh returned quickly, eager to be done with the events of the morning. As Raleigh informed Oxford of the rules, Nick guided Ralston away from the others to say quietly, “Twenty paces, turn, and fire. And I have it on good authority that Oxford plans to aim wide.”
Ralston nodded, acknowledging that aiming wide would leave both parties with their honor and lives intact. “I shall do the same,” he said, swinging his greatcoat off and trading it for the pistol Nick offered.
“Good.” Nick folded the coat over his arm. “Let’s get this done, shall we? It’s freezing.”
“One…Two…” Ralston and Oxford stood back to back as Raleigh began to count off their paces. As he walked slowly to the rhythmic calling of the numbers, “Five…Six…” Ralston thought of Callie, all bright eyes and warm smiles. “Twelve…Thirteen…” Callie, who was likely fast asleep in her bed at that very moment. “Sixteen…Seventeen…”
He couldn’t wait to be done with Oxford so he could go to her. He would apologize and explain everything and beg her to marry him and…
“Stop! No!”
The shout came from across the field, and he turned toward it, knowing before looking that Callie was there—that she was running toward him. And all he could think was that Oxford was going to aim wide, and if he chose to fire in her direction…
Ralston didn’t pause. He ran.
“Twenty!”
The sound of a single pistol’s report echoed across the field.
And Ralston was falling to his knees, watching Callie’s big brown eyes—eyes he had been thinking of all morning—widen in horror, and her mouth opened and her scream rent the early-morning silence, followed by Nick’s swear and Benedick’s call of “Doctor!” and Oxford’s high, nasal cry of, “I aimed wide!”
And as the bullet ripped through his flesh, Ralston was consumed with a single thought: I never told her that I loved her.
He watched as Callie collapsed to her knees in front of him and began to push his coat back, running her hands across his chest, searching for the wound.
She was alive.
Relief coursed through him, hot and disorienting, and all he could do was watch her, repeating to himself that she was alive and unharmed over and over until the truth of it resonated. The rush of emotions he’d felt in the scant moments before he’d been shot—the fear that he might have lost her, that she might have been hurt—stole his breath.
He hissed in pain as she jostled his arm and she froze, looking up at him with tears in her eyes, saying, “Where are you hurt?”
He swallowed around the knot that formed in his throat at the picture she made, so worried, so pained, so very in love with him. And all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.
But first, he wanted to shake her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he exploded, not caring that her eyes went wide with surprise.
“Gabriel,” Nick interjected softly, using a knife to cut away the sleeve of Ralston’s coat, “have a care.”
“I will not!” Ralston turned back to Callie. “You cannot simply traipse across London whenever you damn well please, Callie.”
“I came to save you—” Callie started, then stopped.
Ralston gave a harsh laugh. “Well, it appears you did an excellent job of getting me shot instead.”
He barely registered Oxford’s arrival and defensive pronouncement of, “I aimed wide!”
“Gabriel.” Nick’s words took on a warning tone as he ripped the sleeve of his brother’s coat from his shirt. Gabriel winced, certain that Nick was taking pleasure in his pain. “Enough.”
“And you!” Ralston turned on Benedick. “What the hell were you thinking? Bringing her here!”
“Ralston, you know as well as I do that she cannot be stopped.”
“You need to get your women under control, Allendale,” Ralston said, turning back to Callie. “When you’re my wife, I’m going to lock you up, I swear before God!”
“Gabriel!” Nick was angry.
Ralston didn’t care. He turned on his brother as the surgeon knelt next to him and inspected the wound. “She could have been killed!”
“And what about you?” This time, it was Callie who spoke, her own pent-up energy releasing in anger, and the men turned as one to look at her, surprised that she had found her voice. “What about you and your idiotic plan to somehow restore my honor by playing with guns out in the middle of nowhere with Oxford?” She said the baron’s name with disdain. “Like children? Of all the ridiculous, unnecessary, thoughtless, male things to do…who even fights duels anymore?!”
“I aimed wide!” Oxford interjected.
“Oh, Oxford, no one cares,” Callie said, before turning back to Ralston, and saying, “You were worried about me? How do you think I felt knowing that I might have arrived and you might have been dead? How do you think I felt when I heard that gunshot? When I saw the man I love fall to the ground? Of all the selfish things you’ve done in your life, Gabriel…and I feel certain that you’ve done rather a lot of selfish things…this one is by far the most arrogant and obnoxious of them all.” She was crying now, either unwilling or unable to stop the tears. “What am I supposed to do if you die?”
The fight went out of him in the face of her tears. He couldn’t bear the thought of her worrying about him. He brushed off the doctor and cupped her face in his palms, ignoring the pain in his arm as he pulled her to him and spoke firmly. “I’m not going to die, Callie. It’s just a flesh wound.”
His words, a repeat of those she’d said to him all those weeks ago in the fencing club, elicited a watery smile. “What would you know about flesh wounds?” she asked.
He smiled. “There’s my empress.” He kissed her softly, oblivious to their audience, before he added, “We shall simply have matching scars.” She grew teary again, eyeing his wound skeptically before he repeated, “I’m not going to die, lovely. Not for a very long time.”
Callie raised a brow in a gesture she’d learned from him. “I’m not certain I believe that, Gabriel. It appears you’re not a very good shot.”
Ralston turned a narrow gaze on his brother as Nick snickered at Callie’s wry words before turning back to her. “For the record, Calpurnia, I’m an excellent shot when not worried that you might find yourself in the way of a bullet.”
“Why were you worried about me? You were the one in the duel!”
The surgeon probed at his wound, sending a bolt of pain down his arm. “My lord,” the surgeon said as Ralston hissed in pain, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to remove the bullet. It won’t be comfortable.”
Ralston nodded to the doctor, who was removing a collection of rather wicked-looking instruments from his bag in preparation for the procedure.
Callie gave a nervous look at the tools, and said, “Are you sure you want to do this here, Doctor? Perhaps we should go somewhere less…rustic?”
“Here is as good a place as any, my lady,” the doctor responded amiably. “It isn’t the first bullet I’ve removed in this particular field, and I feel certain it won’t be the last.”
“I see,” she said, her tone making it clear that she did not, in fact, see.
With his free hand, Ralston took hold of one of hers. When he spoke, it was with an urgency she’d never heard from him. “Callie—the wager.”
She shook her head. “I don’t care about the stupid wager, Gabriel.”
“Nevertheless,” he winced as the doctor prodded at the wound. “I was an idiot.”
She eyed the doctor’s movements skeptically before agreeing. “You were, indeed. But I was something of an idiot as well—for believing the worst. And then Benedick told me you were here…and I was so very worried that you might be shot. And then I went and got you shot.”
“Better than getting you shot—which would have caused me a great deal of heartache. You see, Empress, it appears that I have fallen quite thoroughly in love with you.”
She blinked twice, her eyes wide, as though she hadn’t entirely understood his words. “I beg your pardon?” she whispered.
“I love you. I love your extravagant name and your beautiful face and your brilliant mind and your ridiculous list and your taste for adventure, which I imagine is very likely going to be the actual cause of my death. And I very much wanted to be able to tell you all that before you were shot in a field.”
The men around them turned away in unison, embarrassed and eager to escape the exceedingly private moment that was taking place despite both their presence and the garish wound in Ralston’s arm.
Callie didn’t care that they had witnessed it. She only cared that she had heard it correctly. Refusing to take her eyes from Ralston’s, she said, “I—You—Are you certain?”
One side of his mouth kicked up. “Quite. I love you. And I am rather ready to get on with a lifetime of doing so.”
“Really?” She was smiling like a little girl told she could have an extra pudding after dinner.
“Indeed. There is one thing, however.”
“Anything.” She didn’t care what he wanted as long as he was in love with her.
“Nick!” He called, adding, when his brother turned back, “Would you mind very much finding my pistol? Callie needs it.”
Callie laughed roundly, understanding his motives instantly, and the noise carried across the field and drew the attention of the other men. “Gabriel, no!”
“Oh, yes, my little hellion,” he said, humor and love in his tone. “I want this list done with. It is a danger to your reputation and to my person, evidently. And, since you’ve just this morning crossed off Attending a duel, I feel confident that we might as well kill two birds with one proverbial stone and give you a chance to fire a pistol, don’t you?”
Callie held his gaze for a long moment, reading his thoughts, before she broke into a wide smile, and said, “All right. I shall do it. But only to please you.”
His laughter carried across the field even as he grimaced at the pain in his arm. “How very magnanimous of you.”
“Of course, you realize what will happen when this item is complete?”
Ralston’s gaze narrowed. “What will happen?”
“I shall have to begin a new list.”
He groaned. “No, Callie. Your time for lists is over. It’s a miracle I survived this one.”
“My new list only has one item.”
“That sounds like a very dangerous list.”
“Oh, it is,” she agreed happily. “It’s very dangerous. Particularly to your reputation.”
Now he was curious. “What is the item?”
“To reform a rake.”
He paused, the meaning of her words sinking in before he pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly. When he pulled away, he set his forehead to hers, and whispered, “Done.”