Page 73 of The Wedding Challenge

She nodded, realizing the truth of his words, though she was reluctant to give up this moment. Once she left Blackfriars Cope, everything would change.

Bromwell did not bother to scoop up his clothing, only grabbing his boots as he left the room to return to his bedchamber and dress. With a sigh, Callie, too, arose. It was chilly in the room, so she wrapped herself in the same light blanket that Brom had given her the night before when he brought her in from the rain.

She picked up her bag and pulled out the change of clothes that her maid had packed. Fortunately she had had the foresight to pack a simple morning dress that buttoned up the front, so that it was easy enough to put on without help. It was rather wrinkled, but there would be no one to see, and it would soon enough be wrinkled from traveling, anyway.

Brom came in a few minutes later, once again dressed, bringing with him a pitcher of water for the washstand, and told her that he was going down to see if the housekeeper had shown up for work this morning.

Callie quickly washed and dressed, brushing out her tangled hair with some difficulty and pinning it up into a simple knot at the crown of her head. Then she hurried down the stairs and made her way toward the back of the house, following the sounds of crockery and metal pots.

She found Brom in the kitchen alone, setting down plates and eating utensils at a large wooden table. He looked up at her and grinned a little sheepishly. “Mrs. Farmington is not here. But I have made tea, and found butter and jelly, and I’ve managed to slice off a few pieces of bread for toast.”

“That sounds perfect,” Callie said, beaming.

The toast was a trifle burned on one side and soft on the other, and the tea was terribly strong, but it was, Callie thought, the best breakfast she had ever eaten. He described his culinary efforts, sending her into giggles, and as they talked and ate, he kept reaching out to caress her hand or smooth a piece of hair back from her cheek, as if he could not go too long without touching her.

They had just finished eating and were reluctantly rising from the table when Callie heard a sound in the yard outside. She turned her head, listening. “Is that a horse I hear?”

Callie glanced out the window, but she could see nothing but the side yard and the stables.

Brom went still. “Yes. Someone riding fast.”

They started out of the kitchen and were halfway down the hall when there was a thunderous knock at the door. Callie and Brom glanced at each other. She felt suddenly uneasy.

The pounding continued, and Brom strode to the door and yanked it open. The Duke of Rochford stood framed in the doorway.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE DUKE WAS DRESSED FOR RIDING. His clothes were travel-stained, his boots splattered with mud. He carried his hat and a riding crop in one hand. And his face was stamped with a cold fury.

“Then it is true!” he snarled.

Stepping forward, he smashed his fist into Bromwell’s jaw. Bromwell staggered backward and fell through the wide double doorway into the drawing room.

“Sinclair!” Callie shrieked. “No!”

She ran to Bromwell to help him up, but he shrugged off her hand as he rose lithely to his feet. His eyes glittered silver as he looked at Rochford, and he reached up to wipe away a trickle of blood from his cheekbone, where Rochford’s knuckles had smashed into him.

“You want to fight?” Bromwell asked in a dangerously soft voice, and a corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Brom, no!” Callie cried.

“I want to kill you,” Rochford replied shortly, tossing his hat and crop onto the bench in the foyer.

“Sinclair!” She whirled toward her brother in exasperation.

Neither man paid her the slightest attention as they began in unison to pull off their jackets and toss them aside, then roll up their sleeves.

“Would you two stop for just a minute?” Callie asked. “Please? Would you listen to me? Sinclair, I am all right. There is no need—”

“There is every need,” her brother told her shortly, not even looking at her.

“Callie, stay out of this,” Bromwell told her at the same moment.

“Stay out of it!” Callie stared at him. “How can I stay out of it? You are going to fight my brother? How can I possibly stay out of it?”

But it was clear to her that they were going to continue to ignore her no matter what she said. She glanced around the room, searching for inspiration as the two men moved closer together, warily circling each other, their hands up and curled into fists.

Then, like lightning, Bromwell jabbed with his left hand, but Rochford as quickly moved aside so that the blow fell on his shoulder rather than his face. Bromwell followed with an overhand right that landed flush on Rochford’s jaw and sent him backward into a tall cabinet. There was a crash, and a porcelain figurine toppled out and smashed on the floor behind him.