If only doing so were as easy as he made it sound. Carrying on from Isabella seemed not just untenable but unthinkable.
“I greatly regret what happened with Lady Entwhistle,” Callie said then, settling herself in the chair opposite his desk. “I feel responsible.”
He lowered himself into his chair with another sigh. “The fault is mine.”
He ought to have made himself clear to Roberta long ago. Indeed, he ought never to have bedded her. But regrets could not change the past. Nor would it bring Isabella back to him.
“It was poorly done of you to have an affair with her.”
“Calliope,” he chided. “You are not to know of such matters.”
She flashed him an unrepentant grin. “It is fortunate indeed that you were not in Paris, Benny.”
Good God, he shuddered to think what she had been about, running wild on the Continent. Aunt Fanchette had clearly been a poor duenna. He reminded himself to pen her a sternly worded reprimand.
“I agree with you on both counts.” He pressed his fingers to his suddenly throbbing temples. “If you have only come to berate me, you may go, dear sister. I have been doing enough berating of my own.”
She raised a brow. “Wallowing in pity is more apt. How are you going to win Isabella’s heart if you shut yourself inside your study, hiding away from the world?”
He sat up straighter. “I am not wallowing in pity. Nor am I hiding. I am merely inundated with work, trying to do my part to see every last Fenian in London arrested.”
And wallowing in pity and hiding away from the world.
He banished the thought.
“If you say so.” His sister’s voice was skeptical. “But I dislike seeing you so unhappy, Benny. I do not think I have seen you this wretched since Alfred’s death.”
Nor had he been.
“I shall survive,” he told her. “As always.”
Callie considered him. “Have you told her you love her?”
“There was hardly time when she was interrogating me about Lady Entwhistle in the orangery and telling me she will not surrender her freedom by marrying a man she does not trust.” He could not keep the bitterness from his voice.
What a pathetic arse he was.
“Well, you can hardly fault her for that,” Callie said. “Imagine how you would feel had a gentleman with whom Isabella was intimately acquainted approached you. And I do applaud her sense of independence. I cannot say I would willingly give up my freedom for any man either.”
He gritted his teeth. “Whilst I am gratified you agree with Miss Hilgrove that she ought not to marry me, I have, as I said, rather a mountain of work to attend to.”
“Oh, I never said that Isabella should not marry you.” Callie’s smile returned. “On the contrary, I would dearly love to have her as my new sister.”
“Unfortunately, the lady in question needs to agree,” he said wryly. “And since she does not, it is all rendered a moot point.”
“No it is not.” Callie pinned him with a stern glare. “You must go to her, Benny. Tell her you love her. I have seen the way she looks at you, and I cannot believe your feelings are not returned. Isabella is not an inconstant woman. Surrendering without a fight is not the way of us Mannings.”
She was right about that.
Still, he had his pride. Or what remained of it.
“She has made it more than apparent that she does not want to marry me, Calliope. Now please allow me to lick my wounds in peace.” He nodded toward the study door. “And to resume my work.”
“I did not think you were a coward, Benny.” Callie shook her head sadly. “I always thought you the bravest man I know.”
Damn it all.Was his sister right?
“Callie,” he began sternly.
