“This is what I am trying to say! Précisément!” Latuffe’s hands flapped desperately. “What kind of a young lady speaks to her teachers with such disrespect?”
Juliana’s eyebrows snapped together. She turned toward the Frenchman, and said, hands flying through the air, “Perhaps if you were more of a teacher and less of un idiota, you would deserve my additional respect!”
The entire room froze at Juliana’s outburst. Before anyone could speak, Monsieur Latuffe spun on one heel to face Ralston. He spoke, his voice growing louder with each word. “This is why I make it a practice never to take on common pupils! Her lack of breeding is alarmingly clear!” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow dramatically.
The silence in the room was palpable. A muscle twitched in Ralston’s cheek before he spoke, anger turning his voice to steel. “Get out of my house.”
The Frenchman turned surprised eyes on Ralston. “Surely you cannot be angry with me, my lord.”
“It is refreshing to hear that you remain aware of your place with me, Latuffe,” Ralston said coolly. “I will not have you speak of my sister in such a disrespectful manner. You are relieved of your duties.”
Latuffe succumbed to a fit of inarticulate sputtering before flouncing from the room, the pianist following meekly behind.
The foursome that remained watched mutely as Latuffe exited before Juliana clapped her hands with glee. “Did you see his face? I wager no one has ever said anything like that to him! Marvelously done, Gabriel!”
“Juliana…” Callie began, stopping when Ralston raised a hand to stay her words.
“Juliana. Leave this room.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “You cannot mean to…I did not mean—”
“You did not mean to chase away the best dance master in all of London?”
Juliana scoffed, “He could not possibly be such a thing.”
“I assure you he is.”
“That is a sad truth for London.”
Nick’s lips twitched as Ralston’s flattened into a thin line. “You are going to have to learn to keep your thoughts to yourself, sister, else you shall never be ready for society.”
Juliana’s eyes darkened, signaling that her will was equal to that of her brother. “May I suggest you allow me to return to Italy then, brother? I assure you I shall be far less trouble there.”
“While I have no doubt of that, we agreed on eight weeks. You owe me another five.”
“Four weeks and five days,” she corrected tartly.
“Would that it were less. Leave this room. Do not return until you have decided to behave more like the lady that I was assured you were.”
Juliana looked at her eldest brother for a long moment, her eyes flashing fire before she spun on one heel and stormed from the room.
Callie watched her go before turning an accusing look on Ralston. He met her gaze with a cool one of his own, daring her to protest his actions. With a barely perceptible shake of her head to indicate her disappointment, Callie followed her charge into the depths of Ralston House.
He watched her go before looking to Nick. “I should like a drink.”
Callie found Juliana in her bedchamber, yanking dresses from her wardrobe. Eyeing the growing pile of silks and satins at the younger woman’s feet and the wide-eyed maid who stood, uncertain, in the corner of the room, Callie smoothed the skirts of her gown and perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for Juliana to notice her arrival.
After long minutes punctuated only by Juliana’s heavy breathing and the occasional phrase muttered in disgusted Italian, she spun around, hands on her hips, to face Callie. Juliana’s eyes were wild with her frustration, her face pinkened with exertion and anger. She took a deep breath, then announced, “I am leaving.”
Callie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am. I am unable to remain here. Not one minute longer!” She turned away, heaving open a large wooden trunk with a litany of Italian in which Callie picked out the words for brother, bull, and artichoke.
“Juliana…” Callie said cautiously, “do you not think this is a bit…rash?”
Juliana’s head popped up over the top of the trunk. “What rash? I do not have a rash!”
Tamping down her smile at the girl’s misunderstanding, Callie pointed out, “Not a rash. You are being rash. Impulsive. Reckless.”
Juliana cocked her head, considering the new word before she shook her head. “Not at all! Indeed, I only expected him to realize that he hated me sooner.” She began to shove the dresses into the trunk, her maid looking to Callie in horror at the abominable treatment the gowns were receiving.