“May I tell you something?” Juliana bowed closer until their foreheads almost touched.
“Always.”
“I have decided to stay here. In England.”
“You have?” Callie’s eyes widened as the words registered. “But, that’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands with pleasure. “When did you come to your decision?”
“Just moments ago.”
Callie sat back. “The ball decided your fate?”
The younger woman nodded firmly. “Indeed. I cannot simply allow these aristocratic nobs…”—she paused, pleased with her use of the slang—“to scare me off. If I were to return to Italy, who would set them to rights?”
Callie laughed. “Excellent! I shall take great pleasure in watching them all tumble!” She squeezed Juliana’s hands in hers. “And your brothers, Juliana…they shall be thrilled.”
Juliana beamed. “Yes…I suppose they will.” Her expression quickly turned serious as she looked into Callie’s eyes. “However, I am not certain that Gabriel deserves such good news.”
Callie looked down at her lap.
It was Juliana’s turn to take Callie’s hands in hers. “Callie, what happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
Your brother merely broke my heart. That is all.
Juliana waited for Callie to look up again and, when she did, her eyes liquid with tears, the younger woman searched her gaze for answers. After a very long moment, Juliana seemed to find what she was looking for.
Squeezing her friend’s hands, she said, “You must face him proud, and strong, and wonderfully you.”
The words, an echo of those Callie had spoken only moments earlier, sent her tears spilling over, coursing down her cheeks in long, silent tracks.
Instantly, Juliana moved to perch next to Callie on the chair, pulling her into a strong, powerful embrace.
And, as Juliana held her, Callie whispered the words she could no longer deny.
“But what if I am not enough?”
Twenty-two
Ralston exited the ball immediately. Leaving the carriage for his siblings, he departed on foot, heading in the direction of Ralston House, no more than a quarter of a mile away.
For his entire life, he’d been avoiding precisely this moment: He had eschewed relationships with women with whom he had too much in common; he had avoided matchmaking mamas at all costs, out of fear that he might actually like the women they attempted to foist upon him. He’d grown up in a household destroyed by a woman, marred by an unrequited love that had eaten away at his father, who had eventually died of the affliction—too heartbroken for too long to fight the fever to which he had ultimately succumbed.
And now, he was faced with Callie, fresh-faced, open-hearted, charming, intelligent Callie, who seemed to be everything that his mother had not been, and yet, was equally as dangerous as the former marchioness. For, when she’d looked at him with those stunning brown eyes and professed her love, Ralston had lost his ability to think.
And when she had begged him to leave, he had known precisely what his father had felt when his mother had left—the sense of complete and utter helplessness, as though he were watching a part of himself being stolen away but could do nothing at all to stop it.
It was a terrifying feeling. And if it was love, he wanted none of it.
It was raining, a fine London mist that seemed to come from all directions, casting a shining, wet glow over the darkened city and rendering umbrellas useless. Ralston was blind to the wet, his thoughts clouded by a vision of Callie, tears streaming down her face, devastated—and all because of him.
If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he’d been destined to make a mess of the situation since the moment she’d arrived on the threshold of his bedchamber—all big, brown eyes and full, tempting lips—asking him to kiss her. If he’d paid closer attention, he would have realized then that she was going to wreak marvelous havoc on his perfectly satisfactory life.
Tonight she had given him an opportunity to walk away—to return to that life. To spend his days at his men’s club, and his sporting club, and his taverns and to forget that he’d ever found himself entangled with an adventurous wallflower who appeared to be entirely unaware of society’s boundaries.
He should have leapt at the chance to be rid of the vexing woman.
But now there were memories of her in all of those places. And now, when Ralston considered his life prior to the night she’d barged into his bedchamber, it didn’t seem satisfactory at all. It seemed sorely lacking in laughter and in conversation and in entirely inappropriate visits to taverns and clubs with adventuresome females. It was lacking in wide smiles and lush curves and insane lists. It was lacking in Callie.