How could he have forgotten where his duty lay first, with the Special League? His only thoughts had been for Isabella. He had been so caught up in her that somehow, he had banished all thoughts of the outrages which had occurred yesterday from his mind.Bloody hell, he had been sleeping while Rome burned.
Clearly, falling in love had addled his wits.
“Thank you, Young,” he managed, before turning on his heel and stalking off for the dining room.
He found Callie sipping tea and fiddling with the untouched food on her plate.
They exchanged perfunctory morning greetings, and he dismissed the footmen dancing attendance on the sideboard so they could have privacy. His correspondence awaited him, along with his perfectly ironed paper. Everything was ordinary. Typical.
Except for the panic swirling through him.
He scarcely waited for the door to close behind the servants before he turned back to Callie. “Where is she?”
Callie did not bother to ask him who he referred to; either his feelings for Isabella were horribly transparent, or his sister suspected he was irritated that his typewriter had once more disappeared, flitting away like a bird winging into the sky.
She eyed him calmly. “You are overset, Benny. Do sit down and have some breakfast before you start making demands of me.”
He was not in the mood for his sister’s antics today, no matter how much he loved her. He slammed his fist on the table, rattling crockery and silverware and sloshing tea over the rim of her cup. “Overset does not begin to describe the way I feel at the moment, Callie. Do not be coy. Did she tell you where she was going?”
His sister gave him a look of unadulterated disapproval. “I expected better of you, Benny.”
Sweet God, Isabella had not told Callie about what they had done yesterday—twice—had she?
“I beg your pardon?” he bit out, his ears going hot.
It was a hell of a thing to receive a dressing down from his innocent sister over his behavior with a woman. Then again, if the scurrilous rumors from Paris and her time with Aunt Fanchette were to be believed, Callie was not as innocent as she ought to be. It was a notion he struck from his mind, for it mattered not, and thinking of his sister engaged in improper behavior with a man would only make him want to do violence upon the fool who had dared to lay a hand upon her.
“Isabella seemed quite overset when she left,” his sister informed him now, raising a brow, her lips pursed. “I gather you are, once more, the reason for her distress.”
He did not particularly care for the manner in which his sister addressed him. “This is a personal, private matter between myself and Miss Hilgrove. Now tell me where the devil she has gone.”
“So you can find her and cause her more upset? I think not.” Callie calmly sipped her tea, as if she had not a care.
Mayhap his bold, wayward sister did not. But he bloody well did.
He thumped his fist on the table once more. “Damn you, Callie, this is not your battle to fight. Tell me where she has gone.”
“Perhaps this is not my battle, but I do think it my war,” his sister said. “Benny, your behavior concerning her has been unconscionable. Do you deny it?”
He raked a hand through his hair, self-loathing—never far—crashing down on him with renewed fervor. “Of course I do not deny that I have acted in a manner that is…most unbecoming of a gentleman. However, that is neither here nor there. All that matters is that Isabella could be in grave danger at this very moment, and I cannot protect her if I do not know where the devil she has gone.”
By the time he finished his diatribe, his voice had raised, quaking with emotion. If anything happened to Isabella because of this stubborn stunt, he would never forgive himself. He should have damn well locked her in his chamber until she agreed to marry him.
“She is safe,” Callie assured him, her customary poise unshakeable. “You need not fear on that count. I would never allow Isabella to go anywhere that she would be in danger.”
His sister’s reassurance was not enough. He wanted to make certain for himself that Isabella was safe from harm. And the only way for that to happen was for her to marry him and live beneath the very roof she had just fled.
“You cannot be certain she is not in danger,” he told his sister, trying a different tactic. “How would you feel if something happened to her? Just two days ago, she was taken captive by Fenians. Perhaps the same villains who just laid bombs all over London.”
Callie’s mouth flattened into a grim line, but her countenance remained impassive. “She is safe, Benny. I promise you that. Those monsters shall not find her where she has gone.”
She had not returned to her home, then, thank God. But that knowledge did not lead him any closer to discovering where shehadgone.
His patience was waning. “I need to know where she is, Calliope.”
“The dreaded given name.” She flashed him a mocking smile. “I shan’t bend on this, my darling brother. I love you, but Isabella is my friend, and I made her a promise that I would not share her situation with you.”
Isabella had known he would chase after her. Of course she would have done. He would follow her to the River Styx if need be. He would swim it shore to shore.
