Page 80 of The Wedding Challenge

“I cannot keep receiving gifts that I cannot bear to sell, Maisie, or we shall all starve,” Francesca told her maid ruefully and closed the small cabinet.

She turned to Maisie. “This Season I must find someone I don’t care about at all and marry her off.”

“Yes, my lady,” Maisie agreed placidly, biting off the thread and tying a knot.

IT WAS A SHORT JOURNEY to Lilles House, one that Callie would have walked if it had not been for her baggage. A post chaise waited in front of their house, and the servants were busy loading it, supervised by the butler. That good man took a moment away from his task to hand Callie out of the carriage and welcome her home, just as if she and her maid had not stopped by for a visit just last week.

She wondered if the servants, too, had heard the gossip and felt sorry for her. Probably, as they always seemed more knowledgeable than she about all the latest scandals.

“Callie.” Rochford stepped out of the house to greet her. She noticed that a red spot on his cheek and another beside his eye had blossomed into bluish bruises since yesterday.

“Hallo, Sinclair.” She smiled as he came out to take her arm, pausing to inspect the job of loading and unloading the carriages.

“We will be ready to go as soon as they transfer your trunks,” he told her. “Cook has prepared an enormous hamper to take with us. She is convinced that inn food would be certain to lay us both low.”

Callie went inside to speak to the cook and housekeeper, knowing they would both be hurt if she did not take the time to do so. By the time she returned, the coach was completely loaded, waiting only for the coachman to check every strap once again. Rochford had turned to offer his hand to help Callie into the carriage when there was a shout and clatter of hooves. Both of them turned to see a man riding down the street at a much faster pace than was normal—or safe.

An instant later, Callie realized that it was Lord Bromwell.

She sucked in an astonished breath, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest. It was as if her daydream had come to life—Brom racing to stop her from going.

“Wait!” he cried as he grew close, pulling his mount to a stop and leaping off the horse. “Do not go!” He tossed the reins to one of the servants and strode up to Callie and Rochford. “Thank God I caught you.”

“Just barely,” the duke said, eyeing the other man a trifle warily.

“I went to Lady Haughston’s first. I thought you would be there. She told me you were leaving for home. I was afraid I had missed you.” Bromwell’s gaze flickered to Callie. “I had to talk to my sister, as I told you yesterday. She told me…everything. How she planned yesterday because she wanted revenge on the duke. How she—” He stopped, the muscles jumping in his jaw, before he went on. “How she lied about you, Rochford, all those years ago. I have come to apologize for…for everything. I am sorry. What she did was wrong and despicable.”

He looked wretched, almost ill. “I hope you will accept my apologies for the trick she played on us all yesterday.” His gaze went to Callie again, then as quickly away.

Why would he not look at her? Callie wondered. This was not at all the way she had envisioned Brom’s return. Where was the passionate declaration of love? The assurance that he could not live without her? Indeed, it seemed that Bromwell was more interested in talking to her brother than to her.

Bromwell straightened his shoulders and faced the duke squarely. “Sir, I regret my rash and impulsive actions fifteen years ago. I was foolish to believe my sister, and I—I am sorry for wrongfully accusing you. I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me. If not, I can understand, though I will deeply regret it.”

Rochford hesitated, then offered the other man his hand. “It is only natural for a man to defend his sister.”

“I know.” Bromwell shook his hand, and some silent masculine communication seemed to pass between them.

“I have broken my ties with my sister,” Bromwell went on, still looking at the duke. His face reflected the pain of that decision. “I know that she cannot be in our lives after what she did. I could not expect you to agree to my marrying your sister if she was. And that is why I am here. I have come to ask your permission to pay my addresses to Lady Calandra.”

Callie stared at him, stunned.

Rochford, oddly, did not seem as surprised. “I think you will find that Lady Calandra makes her own decisions. But you have my permission.”

“Thank you.” Bromwell nodded to him, then swung around to Callie.

“Lady Calandra…”

Callie raised her brows. “Oh? Have you noticed me finally? Am I allowed to have some say in this matter? I thought perhaps you and my brother were simply going to write out a marriage contract, decide my dowry, and all would be settled.”

“Callie?” Brom began uncertainly.

“I am my own woman,” she said fiercely. “And if you wanted to marry me, I am the one you should have asked. Not him!”

Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, threatening to break through. Callie turned and ran back into the house, slamming the door after her.

Bromwell turned back toward the duke, looking confused. “What happened? What did I do?”

Rochford shrugged, turning his hands up in the universal gesture of a male baffled by the behavior of females.