Callie’s eyes widened. “Knew what?”
Mariana pointed at her sister, her eyes flashing with excited accusation. “I knew you weren’t ill!” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re going to complete another item on the list!”
Callie stood frozen for several long minutes before turning away and putting a hand to her head. She headed for bed. “Whyever would you think that? I was just getting up to call for one of Cook’s remedies.”
She spared a quick glance at Mariana, who was having none of it. “Cook’s remedies?” she said, disbelief in her tone. “You could be on your deathbed and you wouldn’t take one of Cook’s remedies.” Mari rushed to the bed and leapt upon it as though she were wearing a night rail and not a stunning silk ball gown. “What’s tonight? Horse racing? Boxing? Snuff?”
Callie lay down on the bed and pulled a pillow over her face.
“I know! A brothel!”
Shocked, Callie thrust the pillow away from her face. “Mari! You are letting your imagination run wild. Of course I am not going to a brothel.”
Mari’s face fell. “Oh. That’s a pity.”
Callie leveled her sister with a wry look. “Yes. I’m sure it is. Nevertheless, I shan’t be visiting any houses of ill repute tonight.”
“But maybe another night?”
Callie shook her head. “It’s quite extraordinary that you are mere months away from being a duchess.”
Mari grinned and shrugged her shoulders in a supremely unladylike fashion. “Exactly! I shall be a duchess! Who will criticize me? Besides Mother, that is.”
Callie met her sister’s smile. “Aren’t you going to be late for the ball?”
“I don’t want to go. I want to go with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You know it’s a sin to lie,” Mariana said, all seriousness.
“Fine. I am going somewhere, but you cannot come. If we both cry sick, Mother will know there is something amiss.”
Mariana clapped her hands eagerly. “Where are you going?”
“What time is it?”
Mari’s eyes narrowed. “Callie. Do not change the subject.”
“I am not changing the subject! I just don’t want to be late.”
“It’s twenty past nine.”
Callie sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “This evening is interminable!”
“Callie!” Mariana said sharply, “Where are you going?”
Callie met her sister’s eager gaze. “If half past twelve ever comes, I am going gambling.”
Mari gasped. “No!”
Callie grinned. “Yes!”
“Are you going to a hell?”
“No…I thought it might be too easy to be caught there. I’m going to Brooks’s.”
Mariana froze. “Brooks’s…as in, the men’s club?”
Callie nodded, color flooding her cheeks.
“You think it will be more difficult to get caught at Brooks’s than at a gaming hell?” Mariana shook her head in amazement. “You’re mad.”
“I’m not!”
“How are you ever going to…My God! Callie! Women aren’t allowed at Brooks’s! If you were caught…”
“I shan’t be.”
“How do you know?”
Callie paused, unsure of what to say. Mariana pressed on. “Callie.”
“Ralston is taking me.”
Mariana blinked twice. Callie waited for her sister to wrap her head around the announcement.
“The Marquess of Ralston?”
“The very same.”
“You’re going with Ralston?” If the words hadn’t been so nerve-racking, Callie would have laughed at Mariana’s squeaking voice. Instead, she worried the stitching on the blanket and nodded. “I knew it!” Mari crowed, triumphantly. “I knew it from the first time you waltzed! At my betrothal ball!”
“Mari! Hush! The whole house will hear you!” Callie whispered frantically.
“You’ll be ruined if you’re caught,” Mariana announced, as though the idea had never crossed Callie’s mind.
Callie nodded again in the silence that fell.
“Well, then. We shall have to be very careful to ensure that you are not caught.” Callie took heart in Mariana’s use of the word “we” as she pressed on. “It appears that you are excellently prepared for sneaking out of the house…but how are you planning to sneak back in?”