She nodded.
“And scotch?”
Another nod.
“What else?”
Kissing. “Gambling.”
“Dear Lord. And?”
“Cheroot.”
He snorted. “Well that shall be a difficult one. Not even I would let you smoke a cheroot. And my morals are questionable at best.”
His words, so supercilious, set her on edge. “Actually, my lord, I have already crossed that particular item off my list.”
“How? Who gave you a cheroot?”
“Benedick.”
“Of all the irresponsible things—” Ralston paused, amazed. “I shall have his head.”
“That’s what he said about you and scotch.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, I imagine he did. So he knows about this ridiculous list?”
“Actually, no. Only my maid knows.” She paused. “And, well…now you.”
“I wonder what your brother will say when he finds out I wounded you at his fencing club?”
The question, so calm, sent her eyes flying to his. “You wouldn’t!” she said incredulously.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, retrieving her gloves and passing them to her.
Taking the gloves, she let them hang from distracted fingers. “You can’t!”
“Whyever not?”
“Think of—” She paused, considering her words. “Think of what it would say about you!”
He smiled, making a production of pulling on his own gloves. “It would say I am a rake and a libertine. And I think we’ve already established the truth in that.” The words were spoken in a tone that only underscored their truth, and Callie’s ears burned as she recognized them as those she had flung at him in anger at the theatre several evenings earlier.
He pressed on. “Not to mention the fact that you have to exit the club without being discovered by any number of other men who would be more than happy to regale your brother—and legions of others—with tales of your indiscretion. You may have arrived at a quiet time of day, Empress, but it’s nigh on five o’clock now. The hallways will be teeming with men, eager to have their afternoon exercise before returning home for dinner and the evening’s festivities.”
She hadn’t considered that. She’d been so focused on getting into the fencing club that she hadn’t really imagined that leaving would be just as much of a challenge—perhaps more. Now that he had drawn her attention to their presence, she could hear shouts of male laughter and raucous conversation coming from other members of the club as they passed, unknowing, just outside the room. She quashed a flood of embarrassment at the notion that any one of those men could have entered minutes ago and caught them in the midst of a highly inappropriate act.
“Of course, I would be happy to keep quiet”—his words broke into her thoughts—“and to help you escape from the difficulty in which you seem to have found yourself. For a price.”
Her brows snapped together, and she looked at him warily. “What price?”
He lifted her mask and handed it to her. “I shall protect your reputation today if you allow me to do so for the duration of your list.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Ah,” he said genially, “I see you take my meaning. Yes. If I discover that you’ve completed another item on that list without my escort, I shall tell your brother everything.”
She was silent for a long moment, emotions flaring. “That’s blackmail.”
“A loathsome word. But if you must label it such, so be it. I assure you it’s for the best. You obviously need a chaperone and, for the good of both of our families, I am offering my services.”
“You can’t…”
“It would seem that I can,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Now, you can either put on your mask and let me help you exit this club, or you can put it on and take your chances on your own. Which will it be?”
She met his eyes for a long moment. As much as she wanted to leave him there, smug expression on his face, and find her own way out of the mess, she knew that his would likely be the quickest and easiest exit strategy.
Callie donned her mask, taking her time as she tucked her hair up under the cowl, away from view. When she was done, she spoke, her words muffled by the wire mesh.
“It would seem I haven’t much of a choice.”
He smiled wickedly, sending a shock of excitement through her. “Capital.”
Fourteen
No! No! Non! Miss Juliana, ladies should be all daintiness while dancing! You are meeting my gaze altogether too often!”
As the dance master spoke, his affront clear as day, Callie turned toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the impressive Ralston House gardens and hid her smile. The small, effete Frenchman was Juliana’s least favorite teacher despite being one of the finest dancing masters in England; the two had very different opinions on the importance of dancing in the life of a young woman, and Callie had a sneaking suspicion that young Miss Fiori enjoyed irritating him.
“Apologies, Monsieur Latuffe,” Juliana said, her tone indicating absolutely no remorse. “I was merely trying to ensure that I knew your whereabouts—and did not tread upon your toes.”
The dance master’s eyes widened. “Miss Juliana! Neither do young ladies presume to discuss toe treading. If such a horrible thing should occur, I assure you that your partner will not notice. For, ladies, when dancing, should be light as air.”
Juliana’s laugh was rife with disbelief, sending Latuffe into a fit of sputtering hysterics. Callie covered her mouth to keep her own laughter from spilling out—thereby ruining her image as an impartial bystander.
Callie had been overseeing the lesson from a settee on the far end of the ballroom for the better part of an hour, but as Juliana and Monsieur Latuffe had progressed through the steps of several country dances, a quadrille, and now a minuet, the patience of both parties had worn thin, and Callie was finding herself unable to hide her amusement at their bickering. Affixing what she hoped was a neutral expression upon her face, she turned back to Juliana and Latuffe.
The Frenchman was stalking across the bare floor, arms flailing, toward the pianoforte, where the pianist who had been hired for the afternoon’s lessons was looking more than a little uncertain. Placing one hand to his heart and the other on the edge of the piano, Latuffe made a show of taking several deep, calming breaths between harried French muttering. One side of Callie’s mouth twitched as she almost certainly heard him take the names of the Island of Great Britain, Italian females, and the quadrille in vain. She had to admit to a modicum of surprise at the last—Juliana must be quite a trial if he was ready to give up his faith in dance.
Approaching Juliana, Callie met the younger woman’s blue eyes, which were immediately rolled in exasperation. Flashing a grin, Callie whispered, “You’ve only another twenty minutes. Do attempt to suffer through.”
Juliana spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m doing this for you, you realize.”
Callie squeezed the younger woman’s arm, and said, “A fact for which I shall be forever grateful.”
Juliana snickered as the dance master turned abruptly. “It is no matter,” he said, firmly. “We shall move on to the waltz. Surely, even a young lady such as you must respect the waltz.”