Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 11
“While I’m at it, why not drink scotch and smoke a cheroot?”
“Why not?”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Callie, I feel certain that the house will not crumble around us if you have a drink. Though I’m not certain you would enjoy it.” He let silence stretch out for several minutes before continuing. “What else would you want to do?”
She thought carefully about the answer to that question. What if there were no repercussions? What would she do? “I don’t know. I’ve never allowed myself to think of such things.”
“Well, allow yourself now. What would you do?”
“As much as I could.” The answer came fast, surprising them both, but once the words were spoken, Callie realized the truth in them. “I don’t want to be impeccably mannered. You’re right. Twenty-eight years of perfect behavior is too long.” She laughed as she heard herself say the words.
He joined her. “And, so? What would you do?”
“I would throw away my lace cap.”
“A given, I would hope.” He scoffed at her. “Come now, Calpurnia. You can be more creative than that. No repercussions, and you choose three things you can do in your own home?”
She smiled, cuddling deeper into her chair, warming to the game. “Learn to fence.”
“Now you’ve got it,” he said, encouragingly. “What else?”
“Attend a duel!”
“Why stop there? Use your newfound fencing skills to fight one,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I actually want to hurt anyone.”
“Ah,” he said, all seriousness, “so we have found the line you do not wish to cross.”
“One of them, it seems. But I should enjoy firing a pistol, I think. Just not at another person.”
“Many do enjoy that particular activity,” he allowed. “What else?”
She looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Learn to ride astride.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Really. Sidesaddle seems so…missish.”
He laughed at her disdain.
“I would—” She stopped as another item flashed through her mind. Kiss someone. Well. She certainly couldn’t say that aloud to her brother. “I would do all the things men take for granted. And more,” she said. Then, “I would gamble! In a men’s club!”
“Oh ho! And how would you manage that?”
She thought for a moment. “I suppose I should have to masquerade as a man.”
He shook his head in amusement, “Ah…mother’s Shakespeare fascination finally becomes relevant to our lives.” She giggled as he continued, “I think that’s where I would draw the line. The Earls of Allendale could lose privileges at White’s if you tried that.”
“Well, lucky for you, I am not about to attempt to sneak into White’s. Or do any of those other things, either.” Was that disappointment in her tone?
Silence descended again, both siblings lost in their own thoughts, until Benedick raised his glass to his lips to finish his drink. Before it reached his mouth, he paused and, instead, held the glass out, arm extended toward his sister in a silent offer. For a fleeting moment, Callie considered the crystal tumbler, knowing full well that Benedick’s offer was for more than the finger of scotch left in the glass.
She shook her head finally, and the moment passed. Benedick threw back the liquid and spoke again. “I am sorry about that,” he said, rising from his chair. “I should be happy to hear of you taking a risk or two, sister.”
The comment, spoken carelessly as he moved to leave, landed heavily on Callie’s ears. She barely listened to the dry question that followed, “Do you think I’m safe in leaving this room? Or will we have to hunker down until the wedding?”
She shook her head distractedly, and replied, “I should think you’re safe. Tread carefully.”
“Will you join me?”
“No, thank you. I think I shall remain here and ponder a life of adventure.”
He grinned at her. “Excellent. Let me know if you decide to set sail for the Orient on the morrow.”
She matched his smile with her own. “You shall be the first to hear of it.”
With that, he made his exit, leaving Callie to her thoughts.
She sat for a long while, listening as the sounds of the house quieted, guests leaving, the family retiring to bed, the servants clearing the rooms that were used for the dinner, all the while playing the last moments with Benedick over and over in her mind and wondering, What if?
What if she could live a life other than the staid, boring mockery of one that she currently lived? What if she could do all the things that she would never dream of doing? What was to keep her from taking such a leap?
At twenty-eight, no one much thought about her. Her reputation had been impeccable for years—for all the years that it had mattered that she retain such an untarnished name. It wasn’t as if she were about to traipse off and completely destroy that reputation, anyway. She wasn’t going to do anything that a well-respected male member of the ton wouldn’t do on any given day without a second thought. And if they could, why shouldn’t she?
She reached up and removed the pins securing her lace cap. Once it came free from its moorings, she plucked it from her head, several long curls of hair tumbling free as she did so, and held it in her hands, turning it over and over as she considered her next move. When had she become the type of woman who wore lace caps? When had she given up hope of being en vogue? When had she become the type of person to allow Aunt Beatrice’s malice to send her into hiding?
“Why not?”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Callie, I feel certain that the house will not crumble around us if you have a drink. Though I’m not certain you would enjoy it.” He let silence stretch out for several minutes before continuing. “What else would you want to do?”
She thought carefully about the answer to that question. What if there were no repercussions? What would she do? “I don’t know. I’ve never allowed myself to think of such things.”
“Well, allow yourself now. What would you do?”
“As much as I could.” The answer came fast, surprising them both, but once the words were spoken, Callie realized the truth in them. “I don’t want to be impeccably mannered. You’re right. Twenty-eight years of perfect behavior is too long.” She laughed as she heard herself say the words.
He joined her. “And, so? What would you do?”
“I would throw away my lace cap.”
“A given, I would hope.” He scoffed at her. “Come now, Calpurnia. You can be more creative than that. No repercussions, and you choose three things you can do in your own home?”
She smiled, cuddling deeper into her chair, warming to the game. “Learn to fence.”
“Now you’ve got it,” he said, encouragingly. “What else?”
“Attend a duel!”
“Why stop there? Use your newfound fencing skills to fight one,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I actually want to hurt anyone.”
“Ah,” he said, all seriousness, “so we have found the line you do not wish to cross.”
“One of them, it seems. But I should enjoy firing a pistol, I think. Just not at another person.”
“Many do enjoy that particular activity,” he allowed. “What else?”
She looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Learn to ride astride.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Really. Sidesaddle seems so…missish.”
He laughed at her disdain.
“I would—” She stopped as another item flashed through her mind. Kiss someone. Well. She certainly couldn’t say that aloud to her brother. “I would do all the things men take for granted. And more,” she said. Then, “I would gamble! In a men’s club!”
“Oh ho! And how would you manage that?”
She thought for a moment. “I suppose I should have to masquerade as a man.”
He shook his head in amusement, “Ah…mother’s Shakespeare fascination finally becomes relevant to our lives.” She giggled as he continued, “I think that’s where I would draw the line. The Earls of Allendale could lose privileges at White’s if you tried that.”
“Well, lucky for you, I am not about to attempt to sneak into White’s. Or do any of those other things, either.” Was that disappointment in her tone?
Silence descended again, both siblings lost in their own thoughts, until Benedick raised his glass to his lips to finish his drink. Before it reached his mouth, he paused and, instead, held the glass out, arm extended toward his sister in a silent offer. For a fleeting moment, Callie considered the crystal tumbler, knowing full well that Benedick’s offer was for more than the finger of scotch left in the glass.
She shook her head finally, and the moment passed. Benedick threw back the liquid and spoke again. “I am sorry about that,” he said, rising from his chair. “I should be happy to hear of you taking a risk or two, sister.”
The comment, spoken carelessly as he moved to leave, landed heavily on Callie’s ears. She barely listened to the dry question that followed, “Do you think I’m safe in leaving this room? Or will we have to hunker down until the wedding?”
She shook her head distractedly, and replied, “I should think you’re safe. Tread carefully.”
“Will you join me?”
“No, thank you. I think I shall remain here and ponder a life of adventure.”
He grinned at her. “Excellent. Let me know if you decide to set sail for the Orient on the morrow.”
She matched his smile with her own. “You shall be the first to hear of it.”
With that, he made his exit, leaving Callie to her thoughts.
She sat for a long while, listening as the sounds of the house quieted, guests leaving, the family retiring to bed, the servants clearing the rooms that were used for the dinner, all the while playing the last moments with Benedick over and over in her mind and wondering, What if?
What if she could live a life other than the staid, boring mockery of one that she currently lived? What if she could do all the things that she would never dream of doing? What was to keep her from taking such a leap?
At twenty-eight, no one much thought about her. Her reputation had been impeccable for years—for all the years that it had mattered that she retain such an untarnished name. It wasn’t as if she were about to traipse off and completely destroy that reputation, anyway. She wasn’t going to do anything that a well-respected male member of the ton wouldn’t do on any given day without a second thought. And if they could, why shouldn’t she?
She reached up and removed the pins securing her lace cap. Once it came free from its moorings, she plucked it from her head, several long curls of hair tumbling free as she did so, and held it in her hands, turning it over and over as she considered her next move. When had she become the type of woman who wore lace caps? When had she given up hope of being en vogue? When had she become the type of person to allow Aunt Beatrice’s malice to send her into hiding?
