Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 6
“You would do well to stop talking.”
“Truly, it’s heartwarming. The Marquess of Ralston, in all his wickedness. Laid low by a child.”
Ralston turned away from his brother, stalking across the room to his desk. “Don’t you have a statue somewhere that must be cleaned? An elderly woman from Bath with a marble in desperate need of identification?”
Nick extended his legs and crossed one shining Hessian over the other, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait. “As a matter of fact, I do. However, she—along with my legions of fans—shall have to wait. I should much rather spend the afternoon with you.”
“Do not stay on my account.”
Nick became serious. “What happens in two months? When she still wants to leave and you cannot allow it?” When Ralston did not reply, Nick pressed on. “It has not been easy for her. Deserted by her mother at such a young age…then losing her father as well.”
“No different than our own circumstances.” Ralston feigned disinterest as he sorted through a pile of correspondence. “In fact, I would remind you that we lost our father along with our mother.”
Nick’s gaze did not waver. “We had each other, Gabriel. She has no one. We know better than anyone what it is like to be in her position; to be deserted by everyone you have ever had—everyone you have ever loved.”
Ralston met Nick’s eyes, somber with the memories of their shared childhood. The twins had survived their mother’s desertion, their father’s descent into despair. Their childhood had not been pleasant, but Nick was right—they had had each other. And that had made the difference. “The one thing I learned from watching our parents is that love is overrated. What matters is responsibility. Honor. Juliana will be better for understanding that at such a young age. She has us, now. And likely she thinks it not much. But it will have to be enough.”
The brothers fell into silence, each lost to his own thoughts. Eventually, Nick said, “It will be difficult to get the ton to accept her.”
Ralston swore roundly, recognizing the truth in his brother’s words.
As the daughter of a woman who had not received a proper divorce, Juliana would not be immediately accepted into society. At best, Juliana was the child of a lady exiled from polite society, and she would struggle to cast off the heavy mantle of her mother’s soiled reputation. At worst, she was the illegitimate daughter of a fallen marchioness and her common-born Italian lover.
Nick spoke again. “Her legitimacy will be questioned.”
Gabriel thought for several moments. “If our mother married her father, it means that the marchioness must have converted to Catholicism upon arriving in Italy. The Catholic Church would never have acknowledged her marriage in the Church of England.”
“Ah, so it is we who are illegitimate.” Nick’s words were punctuated with a wry smile.
“To Italians, at least,” Gabriel said. “Luckily, we are English.”
“Excellent. That works out well for us,” Nick replied, “but what of Juliana? There will be many who will refuse to socialize with her. They shan’t like that she is the daughter of a fallen woman. And a Catholic no less.”
“They wouldn’t have accepted Juliana to begin with. We cannot change the fact that her father is of common birth.”
“Perhaps we should attempt to pass her off as a distant cousin rather than a sibling.”
Ralston’s response brooked no refusal. “Absolutely not. She is our sister. We shall present her as such and face the consequences.”
“It is she who will face the consequences.” Nick met his brother’s eye as the words hung in the air, heavy with importance. “The season will soon be in full swing. If we are to succeed, our activities must be entirely aboveboard. Our reputation is hers.”
Ralston understood. He would have to end his arrangement with Nastasia—the opera singer was renowned for indiscretion. “I shall speak with Nastasia today.”
Nick nodded in acknowledgment before adding, “And Juliana will need an introduction into society. From someone with an impeccable character.”
“Yes, I thought of that myself.”
“We could always call on Aunt Phyllidia.” Nick shuddered even as he referred to their father’s sister who, despite being certain to arrive full of loud opinions and brash instructions, was a dowager duchess and a pillar of the ton.
“No.” Ralston’s response was short and immediate. Phyllidia would not be able to manage such a delicate situation as this—a mysterious, unknown sister arriving on the doorstep of Ralston House at the start of the season. “None of our female relatives will do.”
“Then who?”
Twin gazes locked. Held. Their determination matched, their commitment equal.
But only one was the marquess. And his words left no room for questions. “I shall find someone.”
Two
Then with a burst of tears she ran straight toward him, and flung her arms about the neck of Odysseus, and kissed his head, and spoke:
“Lo, thou dost convince my heart, unbending as it is.”
And in his heart aroused yet more the desire for lamentation; and he wept, holding in his arms his dear and true-hearted wife.
Callie Hartwell paused in her reading, and released a deep, satisfied sigh. The sound rent the silence of the Allendale House library, where she had escaped hours earlier in search of a good book. In Callie’s opinion, a good book required an enduring love story…and Homer delivered.
Oh, Odysseus, she thought soulfully, turning a yellowed page in the leather-bound book and wiping away a stray tear. Twenty years later, back in the arms of your love. A well-deserved reunion if ever I’ve read one.
“Truly, it’s heartwarming. The Marquess of Ralston, in all his wickedness. Laid low by a child.”
Ralston turned away from his brother, stalking across the room to his desk. “Don’t you have a statue somewhere that must be cleaned? An elderly woman from Bath with a marble in desperate need of identification?”
Nick extended his legs and crossed one shining Hessian over the other, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait. “As a matter of fact, I do. However, she—along with my legions of fans—shall have to wait. I should much rather spend the afternoon with you.”
“Do not stay on my account.”
Nick became serious. “What happens in two months? When she still wants to leave and you cannot allow it?” When Ralston did not reply, Nick pressed on. “It has not been easy for her. Deserted by her mother at such a young age…then losing her father as well.”
“No different than our own circumstances.” Ralston feigned disinterest as he sorted through a pile of correspondence. “In fact, I would remind you that we lost our father along with our mother.”
Nick’s gaze did not waver. “We had each other, Gabriel. She has no one. We know better than anyone what it is like to be in her position; to be deserted by everyone you have ever had—everyone you have ever loved.”
Ralston met Nick’s eyes, somber with the memories of their shared childhood. The twins had survived their mother’s desertion, their father’s descent into despair. Their childhood had not been pleasant, but Nick was right—they had had each other. And that had made the difference. “The one thing I learned from watching our parents is that love is overrated. What matters is responsibility. Honor. Juliana will be better for understanding that at such a young age. She has us, now. And likely she thinks it not much. But it will have to be enough.”
The brothers fell into silence, each lost to his own thoughts. Eventually, Nick said, “It will be difficult to get the ton to accept her.”
Ralston swore roundly, recognizing the truth in his brother’s words.
As the daughter of a woman who had not received a proper divorce, Juliana would not be immediately accepted into society. At best, Juliana was the child of a lady exiled from polite society, and she would struggle to cast off the heavy mantle of her mother’s soiled reputation. At worst, she was the illegitimate daughter of a fallen marchioness and her common-born Italian lover.
Nick spoke again. “Her legitimacy will be questioned.”
Gabriel thought for several moments. “If our mother married her father, it means that the marchioness must have converted to Catholicism upon arriving in Italy. The Catholic Church would never have acknowledged her marriage in the Church of England.”
“Ah, so it is we who are illegitimate.” Nick’s words were punctuated with a wry smile.
“To Italians, at least,” Gabriel said. “Luckily, we are English.”
“Excellent. That works out well for us,” Nick replied, “but what of Juliana? There will be many who will refuse to socialize with her. They shan’t like that she is the daughter of a fallen woman. And a Catholic no less.”
“They wouldn’t have accepted Juliana to begin with. We cannot change the fact that her father is of common birth.”
“Perhaps we should attempt to pass her off as a distant cousin rather than a sibling.”
Ralston’s response brooked no refusal. “Absolutely not. She is our sister. We shall present her as such and face the consequences.”
“It is she who will face the consequences.” Nick met his brother’s eye as the words hung in the air, heavy with importance. “The season will soon be in full swing. If we are to succeed, our activities must be entirely aboveboard. Our reputation is hers.”
Ralston understood. He would have to end his arrangement with Nastasia—the opera singer was renowned for indiscretion. “I shall speak with Nastasia today.”
Nick nodded in acknowledgment before adding, “And Juliana will need an introduction into society. From someone with an impeccable character.”
“Yes, I thought of that myself.”
“We could always call on Aunt Phyllidia.” Nick shuddered even as he referred to their father’s sister who, despite being certain to arrive full of loud opinions and brash instructions, was a dowager duchess and a pillar of the ton.
“No.” Ralston’s response was short and immediate. Phyllidia would not be able to manage such a delicate situation as this—a mysterious, unknown sister arriving on the doorstep of Ralston House at the start of the season. “None of our female relatives will do.”
“Then who?”
Twin gazes locked. Held. Their determination matched, their commitment equal.
But only one was the marquess. And his words left no room for questions. “I shall find someone.”
Two
Then with a burst of tears she ran straight toward him, and flung her arms about the neck of Odysseus, and kissed his head, and spoke:
“Lo, thou dost convince my heart, unbending as it is.”
And in his heart aroused yet more the desire for lamentation; and he wept, holding in his arms his dear and true-hearted wife.
Callie Hartwell paused in her reading, and released a deep, satisfied sigh. The sound rent the silence of the Allendale House library, where she had escaped hours earlier in search of a good book. In Callie’s opinion, a good book required an enduring love story…and Homer delivered.
Oh, Odysseus, she thought soulfully, turning a yellowed page in the leather-bound book and wiping away a stray tear. Twenty years later, back in the arms of your love. A well-deserved reunion if ever I’ve read one.
