The long, gloomy promenade at Shelford, with paintings on one wall and a line of tall, narrow windows on the other, offered an excellent location for a tete-a-tete. The weather still waxed inclement, and hisses of rain added to the usual echoes, creating a suitably murky background for any private exchange. Mrs. Fowler nodded and walked slowly along, pretending an interest in the historical account that Callie pretended to give her, but when they reached a safe distance from the drawing room door, the petite lady paused and turned.
'The duchesse told me that you're hiding her son here,' she said hurriedly, interrupting Callie's mono tone on the comparisons between the Gainsborough portrait of her great-grandmother and the Reynolds of the same subject.
Callie bit her lip. She glanced along the gallery to make sure they were still alone. She gave a quick nod.
'Where is he? I must see him,' Mrs. Fowler said.
Callie could not bring herself to say that he was staying in her bedroom. But the woman had every right to see her husband, of course.
When she hesitated, Mrs. Fowler said anxiously, 'Can you arrange it?'
'Yes.' Seeing her fretfulness, Callie felt a sharp wave of guilt. She debated and discarded a number of possible meeting places in her mind. Even the carriage house wouldn't be safe, as all the vehicles were being readied to fetch guests for the masquerade. 'Oh!' An impulsive thought came to her. 'Mrs. Fowler, can you come by a costume of some sort? A mask?'
The other woman looked at her and then smiled mischievously. 'Can you get me a ticket?'
An instant after she made it, Callie was already regretting the suggestion. Anyone must recognize Mrs. Fowler, it seemed to her, even masked. And it meant that Trev would have to be abroad at the masquerade too-a thought that appalled her. 'I'm not certain. Where are you staying? If I can, I'll have it sent.'
'Thank you!' Mrs. Fowler clasped Callie's hand between hers. 'I haven't a room bespoken, I fear. Is there an inn?'
'The Antlers,' Callie said. 'In the village.'
'Oh, I do thank you!' Then she fumbled in her reticule and pulled out a note folded over so many times and covered with so much wax that it was only a lump. 'Give him this.' She pressed it into Callie's palm. 'You are a heroine to do this for us! Thank you!'
By the time Callie reached her bedroom, she had found a target for the roil of emotion in her breast. And he was so amiable as to be waiting for her, stepping out from behind her door to take her about the waist and bestow an ardent kiss on the nape of her neck. As Trev turned her in his arms she trembled with fury, which he seemed to misinterpret as romantic passion, so that he was taken entirely by surprise when she planted a shove in the center of his chest that set him reeling backward.
'Do… not… touch me,' she said through her teeth. As he caught himself on the bedpost, she lifted one eyebrow in scorn. She waited, breathing deeply, until he pushed away from the bed and stood upright. 'A Mrs. Fowler wishes to see you.'
He'd glanced down to straighten his coat sleeve. At her words, his body stilled. He looked up at her. 'I beg your pardon?'
She held out the folded note. 'Here.'
He ignored it. 'Mrs. Fowler?'
With a supreme effort, Callie held herself back from a vulgar display of her feelings, such as screaming aloud or stabbing him with a hairpin. Instead, she said with a dangerous coolness, 'I believe you are acquainted with her?'
Trev stood looking at her. 'Are you making a jest?'
Callie had a moment's pause. He made no attempt to soothe her or offer any excuse or explanation for himself. He appeared to have no desire to hurry to Mrs. Fowler's side or even to read her note. He didn't do anything but give Callie a look of slightly affronted disbelief.
'I am not,' she said, maintaining her rigid spine. 'I wouldn't jest about such a thing. She wishes to see you.' Once again she held out the note.
He regarded it with all the fondness one might feel for an overripe kipper. They stood facing one another, a few feet apart, as if a bottomless chasm had opened in the f loor between them.
'She sent this. She wishes to see you,' she repeated, feeling he must not properly comprehend the case.
'Well, I do not wish to see her,' he replied sweetly. 'Good God, what can she want, the little-' He stopped himself. 'You didn't tell her I was here, did you?'
The tone of this callous rejoinder, while not entirely unwelcome to her feelings, somewhat shocked Callie. She'd been feeling miserably ashamed, awakened from a brief dream in his arms to reality again-a reality now graced by the woman he loved so deeply that he had been willing to sacrifice his very life for her. But he didn't appear to understand the situation at all.
'Of course I told her,' she said. 'I've arranged for her to come here masked tonight, so that you can safely meet.'
He shook his head slowly. 'Callie. Do you despise me that much?'
She lowered her hand, curling her fingers over the note. 'But… she's come to find you.'
'What a gratifying thought. Doubtless she may offer me some further opportunity to hang on her behalf. Thank you, I believe I'll avoid the prospect-and the adorable Mrs. Fowler-altogether.'
Callie turned away, walking across to her dressing table. She dropped the note in an empty pin holder and sat down in bewilderment. 'I thought you would wish to see her.'
'What possible reason could I have to want to see her?' he demanded. 'I've had done with the woman, you may be sure.'
She picked up a discarded scarf and began to fold it mechanically. 'I suppose… I can understand that you've come to regret your… sacrifice… on her behalf.'
He gave a low laugh. 'Oh my God.' He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 'Regret!'
'I thought-' She paused. 'Then you don't love her anymore?'
'Been reading the newspapers, have you?' His voice was full of scorn.
'I did read of it, yes,' she said uncomfortably. She tied a knot in the scarf.
'I see.' He gave her a civil bow. 'I collect that you subscribe to the school of scandal rags that casts me as a hero for shielding my wife, rather than a scoundrel who forged a note of hand for her to pass to her credi tors.' He made a casual, contemptuous f lick of his fingers. 'I'm not sure which is more f lattering, being thought a criminal or a screaming fool.'
'Nothing of the sort!' she exclaimed. 'I never thought you a criminal. I hope I know you better than that. And however much a miscarriage of justice it might be, surely no one would suggest a gentleman was a fool to risk his own life to protect his wife.'
'Doubtless it would be exceedingly chivalrous, if she
'If she-' Callie started to speak, then broke off and blinked at him. 'She isn't?'
'You have to ask me that?' he inquired bitterly. 'I would have thought… you, of everyone-' He blew out a harsh breath. 'But what difference does it make?' He shrugged. 'No, she isn't. I've never married. Much to my mother's disgust.' He gave a slight laugh and leaned against the bedpost, watching her from under lowered lashes. 'I've been in love with you, you know, since I was sixteen years old.'
He said it in such a composed way, that for a moment she didn't quite take his meaning. She blinked down at the contorted scarf in her hands, frowning. She forgot, sometimes, how fine and carelessly handsome he was, but it came upon her now with strong force. She forgot because he was her friend; he was simply Trev, who made her laugh. She had adventured with him and had trusted him, slept in his arms.
'But why do I trouble myself to tell you?' he continued, as if he were speaking to someone else. 'You never believe me, and it's not as if I can do anything to the point about it. I might as well be in love with your hosiery, for all the future there is in it.'
'I don't-' She struggled with words. 'I don't know that I don't believe you, precisely. You're very dear to me, and I'm sure I'm dear to you too. We're excellent friends.'
'Of course.' He nodded. 'Friends. And now I'll just go and find a suitable cliff from which to cast myself.'
'Oh come,' she said with a wan smile.
'My God.' He pushed away from the bedpost. 'Friends! And do you fall into bed with any man who's 'dear' to you? How am I to take that?'
'Of course I don't.' She stood up, letting the knotted scarf slip away. 'I can't seem to help myself. With you. About that. It's extremely vexing.'
'You're quite right on that count,' he said sullenly. 'I'm damned vexed. I'd like to vex you right here on the f loor, in fact. And the idea of Sturgeon vexing you is enough to dispose me to murder. Is that clear? Do you comprehend me?' He took a reckless stride toward her and caught her chin between his fingers. 'I'm not your friend, my lady. I'm your lover.'
She was startled into immobility, except to blink rapidly as he looked down into her eyes from so close. He bent and kissed her, a featherlight touch that belied the strength in his hand, a kiss that deepened and invaded her until she was quivering in every limb.
He broke it off, still holding her face. 'Has he kissed you like that?'
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
'Have any of them kissed you like that?' he demanded. 'Have you had any other?'
She drew a deep breath and thrust out her lower lip. 'Have you?'
He held her, looking down with a grim hauteur. 'That's not an answer. But would you care if I had?'
It ought to have been uncomfortable to be held in such a forceful manner, but for some reason Callie was merely breathless. 'I suppose I-' She faltered. She found the truth excruciatingly difficult to admit. 'I'm sure a gentleman such as yourself has a number of… of opportunities, and it would be unnatural, doubtless, if you had not responded.'
He let go of her and swung away impatiently. 'Oh, I've had other opportunities, true enough.'
As Callie had not herself had any prospects of that nature, she felt at a considerable disadvantage. 'Well, then. Perhaps I might care. A little. That is human nature, is it not?' She confessed that much with some effort. 'But I would not allow it to disturb me unduly.'
He put his arm along the mantel and stared into the cold fireplace. 'You're quite worldly about it, I see,' he said with a tight smile. 'And here I've been saving myself like some boy virgin.'
She gave him a doubtful look. 'I beg your pardon?'
He leaned on his fist. 'To answer your question- yes, I've had other opportunities,' he said brusquely. 'Yes, I've taken some up. But something always stopped me in the breach. I don't know if you can understand that. I don't know that I understood it myself until lately. But I seem to be yours, Callie. Body and soul.' He didn't sound as if it made him happy. 'I will be till I die.'
She stood silent, turning the words over in her mind as if they were a strange device that she could not find the key to understand. With a shy move, she looked
