Dance every dance at a ball
Her lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. Well, Callie, that item proves that this is an imaginary list. She adored dancing. She always had. When she was a child, she used to sneak from her bedchamber to watch the balls her parents had hosted. There, high above the ballroom, she would twirl and twirl in time to the music, imagining that her night rail was a beautiful silk gown to rival the ones swirling below. Dancing was the one thing that Callie had looked forward to when she had her first season; but as she had aged into spinsterhood, invitations had tapered off. She hadn’t danced a country dance in—well, it had been a long, long time. Too long.
There in the darkness, she allowed herself to admit that all those years of standing on the edges of ballrooms across London had taken their toll. She loathed being a wallflower, but she had never been able to lift herself out of that position. And, in the ten years since her debut, she had become so comfortable as a witness to the elegance of society that she couldn’t imagine actually being at the center of it. Of course, she would never be at its center. The women at the nexus of the ton were beautiful. And Callie was too plain, too plump, too boring to be considered beautiful. Blinking back tears, she scrawled the next item on the list.
Be considered beautiful. Just once.
It was the most unlikely item on the list…she could only remember one time, one fleeting moment in her life when she had even come close to achieving the goal. But, thinking back on that night long ago, when the Marquess of Ralston had made her feel beautiful, Callie was certain that he hadn’t perceived her that way. No, he was just a man who did what he could to make a young girl feel better so that he could escape to a midnight tryst. But in that moment he had made her feel beautiful. Like an empress. How she wanted to be that girl again; how she wanted to feel like Calpurnia again.
Of course, she couldn’t do it. It was just a silly exercise.
With a sigh, Callie stood from the desk, folding the paper carefully and tucking it just inside the bodice of her gown before she replaced the ink and pen. Snuffing the candle, she moved quietly toward the door. Just as she was about to exit the study and make her way upstairs, she heard a noise from outside—quiet and unfamiliar.
Opening the door carefully—just a crack—Callie peered into the darkened hallway, squinting to make out anyone who might be there. The blackness beyond made it impossible to see, but there was no question that she was not alone; the open door allowed a soft giggle to reach her.
“You are beautiful tonight. Perfect. The Allendale Angel indeed.”
“You’re required to say so…to flatter your fiancée.”
“My fiancée.” The reverence in the words was palpable. “My future duchess…my love…”
The words trailed off on a feminine sigh, and Callie’s hand flew to hold in her shocked laughter as she realized that Mariana and Rivington were in the darkened foyer. She froze for a moment, eyes wild, uncertain of her next move. Should she close the door quietly and wait for them to leave? Or should she contrive to stumble upon them and end what was most definitely a lovers’ tryst?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a little gasp, “No! We shall be caught!”
“And what then?” the words came on a masculine chuckle.
“I suppose then you shall have to marry me, Your Grace.” Callie’s eyes widened at the blatant sensuality in her little sister’s tone. When had Mariana become a doxy?
Rivington groaned in the darkness. “Anything that gets you into my bed more quickly.”
It was Mariana’s turn to laugh, entirely inappropriately. And then there was silence, punctuated only by the soft sounds of lips on flesh and silk on skin.
Callie’s mouth dropped open. Yes, she should definitely close the door.
Then why didn’t she?
Because it wasn’t fair.
It simply wasn’t fair that her baby sister—who had looked up to her for so long, who, for so many years, had turned to her for advice and guidance and friendship—was now experiencing this remarkable new world of love.
Mariana had come out with a vengeance, the star of the season, and Callie had been so very proud of her. And when Mari had caught the eye of Rivington, the catch of the ton, Callie had celebrated alongside her little sister.
And Callie was happy for Mariana.
But how much longer could she happily stand by as Mariana lived the life that Callie herself had longed for? Everything would change. Mariana would do all that Callie had never done. She would marry, and bear children, and run a household, and grow old in the arms of a man who loved her. And Callie would remain here in Allendale House, a spinster.