Oxford’s eyes narrowed on her in a manner she could only assume was meant to appear concerned, and he said, “Of course.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” she said, attempting coquettishness.
She watched as he turned and disappeared into the crowd, the throngs of people swallowing him up as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This entire afternoon had been a mistake.
“I see you have Oxford eating from the palm of your hand.” The dry words startled her, so close to her ear, and she stiffened in immediate recognition.
Willing herself to remain calm, she turned to face the speaker. “Lord Ralston. What a surprise,” she said, her tone in direct opposition to her words. She was, all of a sudden, very tired. Tired of sparring with Ralston, tired of outsmarting Oxford, tired of being there amidst London’s most beautiful people. She wanted to go home.
“Lady Calpurnia,” Ralston executed a short bow, “I had hoped that you would be here.”
The words, and the implication that he’d sought her out, would have elated her months ago. Today, however, she wanted nothing more than to turn on her heel and run from him. Meeting his blue eyes served only to remind her of the embarrassment and pain that he had delivered her at their last meeting. Her heart constricted at the thought of having another conversation with him, knowing that she was little more than a pawn in some game she did not understand.
She could not summon graciousness. “While I’m certain that’s not entirely true, you knew I would be here. You were there when Oxford extended the invitation.”
“So I was.” He inclined his head as if to give her a point in their verbal game. “Nevertheless, I had hoped to see you this afternoon. Although I confess I was rather disheartened to see you smiling up at Oxford as though he were the only man in attendance.”
She refused to give him the pleasure of knowing the truth. “The baron has been most accommodating.”
“Accommodating,” Ralston tested the word. “Makes him sound rather like furniture, doesn’t it?”
She did not hide her exasperation. “Is there something you wanted, my lord?”
“An intriguing question,” he said, enigmatically, before adding, “I should like to speak with you.”
All of a sudden, Oxford seemed rather the lesser of two evils. “Now is not an ideal time. Perhaps another day? I am here with an escort.” She turned purposefully, eager to make a quick exit.
“It appears that your escort has left you to your own defenses,” Ralston pointed out wryly. “I couldn’t very well allow you to navigate this crush alone. It wouldn’t be at all gentlemanly.”
Frustration flared. Could he not just leave her alone? Callie narrowed her gaze. “Yes, well, certainly you wouldn’t want to appear less than gentlemanly.” The slight emphasis on the word spoke volumes. “You needn’t worry, my lord. I am certain that the baron will return presently.”
“In this crowd? I wouldn’t wager good money on it,” he said, his tone dry.
The man was thoroughly exasperating. Callie made to escape him only to find herself unable to escape for the crush of people around them. She stamped her foot, irritated, and turned back to him. “You did this on purpose,” she said, peevishly.
“You think I orchestrated these throngs to ensnare you?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“You entirely misjudge my power over the ton, Empress.”
She flushed at the nickname, so intimate, before whispering. “Don’t call me that.”
He took hold of her elbow and guided her into the West Gallery. She protested his forcing her to follow him briefly, before she realized that removing herself from his grasp was liable to get them both noticed and set tongues wagging.
Once within the side gallery, he released her elbow but guided her to the far end of the room, through the clusters of people viewing the paintings hanging on every inch of wall to a large screen that cordoned off a piece of the enormous room.
“Where are you taking me?” she whispered, darting glances at the crowds of people surrounding them—all of whom seemed oblivious to her abduction.
He pushed her behind the screen, following her into the quiet alcove, and they were alone again. Callie was once more consumed by emotion, equal parts excitement and fear. The enormous mahogany screen had been set several feet from the wall of west-facing windows to block the sun from obstructing the views of the paintings. The screen reached far above their heads, creating a pool of brilliant sunlight and muffling the sound of the exhibition beyond.