The Wedding Challenge. Candace Camp

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СКАЧАТЬ am sorry to appear at such a late hour, Fenton,” Callie told the butler as she stepped inside.

      “Oh, my lady, do not even think such a thing,” Fenton replied. “You are always welcome in this house. Cooper will show you to the yellow sitting room while I inform Lady Haughston that you are here.”

      With a bow for her and a sharp nod to the footman, the butler bustled off up the stairs. Callie followed the footman into the small sitting room down the hall. It was not the grandest of the receiving rooms, but she knew that the small room was Francesca’s favorite, its windows facing the tiny side garden and open to the morning sunlight. Also, because of its size, it was still rather warm from the banked coals of the evening fire.

      Callie went to the fireplace to take advantage of its lingering warmth. Only a few moments passed before Francesca hurried into the room, tying the sash of her brocade dressing gown as she came. Her long blond hair tumbled down her back, and her pretty porcelain face was marred with a worried frown.

      “Callie? What happened?” she asked, striding forward, hands outstretched. “Is something the matter?”

      “Oh! No!” Callie answered, abashed. “I am so sorry—I did not think. I did not mean to alarm you. There is nothing wrong.”

      Relief washed over Francesca’s face. “Thank heaven! I thought—well, I am not sure what I thought.” Her face pinkened a little, and she let out a deprecatory chuckle. “I am sorry. You must think me foolish.”

      “Oh, no,” Callie hastened to reassure her. “Indeed, it is I who is foolish. I should not have come here at this hour. ’Tis only natural to assume that there is something wrong. I apologize for alarming you.”

      Francesca airily waved her apology away. “Come, sit down. Would you like some tea?”

      “No, I have already put your household in enough of a stir,” Callie answered. “I am fine.”

      She sat down on the edge of a chair, and Francesca took the end of the love seat at right angles to her, looking at her with a concerned air.

      “Are you really?” Francesca asked astutely. “I take it there is not an emergency, but…” She looked around speakingly. “Did you come here alone?”

      Callie nodded. “Yes. I know it was not the safest thing to do, but I just—I could not stay in that house a moment longer!”

      Francesca looked startled. “Lilles House?”

      Callie nodded. “I am sorry to burst in on you at this hour. You must wish me at the devil, but I did not know where else to turn.”

      “But of course you can come to me,” Francesca told her, reaching out to take her hand. “And do not worry about the hour. I had not retired, anyway. I was just brushing out my hair. And there is nothing Fenton loves like a little excitement. I shouldn’t wonder if he will come in here in a few minutes with tea and cakes.”

      “You are very kind.” Callie smiled, then added, a little shyly, “You know, I have always thought of you as, well, almost a sister.”

      Francesca’s face softened, and she squeezed the younger woman’s hand. “Why, thank you, dear. I am touched. I have often felt the same way about you.”

      “Once,” Callie told her somewhat ruefully, “I actually thought that you were going to become my sister. I cannot remember why, precisely, but I thought so for some weeks—until Sinclair set me straight, of course. I was very young.”

      A silence fell on them. Callie knew that Francesca was puzzled but politely waiting for her to explain her appearance after midnight.

      Callie sighed. “I am sorry. Now that I am here, I’m not sure what to say.” She paused, then went on, “The fact is, Sinclair and I had a terrific row this evening.”

      Francesca’s eyes opened wide. “You and Rochford? Why, what happened? I thought that the two of you got along so well.”

      “We do, generally,” Callie allowed. “But tonight…” She stopped, reluctant to air her family disagreements, even to someone she had known all her life.

      “You need not tell me if you don’t want to,” Francesca assured her kindly. “We can just talk about—oh, Lady Odelia’s party, for instance. It was quite a success, wouldn’t you say?”

      “Yes, it was.” Callie grinned at the other woman. “And you are the consummate hostess. But I need to tell you. I must tell someone, and I—I think that perhaps you could help me, if you are willing to.”

      “Why, of course,” Francesca replied, her curiosity fully aroused now. “Just tell me, then. Do not worry about dressing it up nicely. I have known your brother even longer than I have known you, and I dare swear nothing you tell me will shock me.”

      “Oh, it is not shocking,” Callie hastened to tell her. “It is all quite ordinary, really. It is just that I have never known Sinclair to be so, well, so high-handed.”

      “Ah.”

      “Well, at least, not with me,” Callie went on. “He was excessively rude to a gentleman with whom I danced, a man whom even Grandmother said was a perfectly acceptable suitor. And he treated me—he treated me as if I were a child!” Heat rose in Callie’s cheeks at the memory, and her voice roughened with the remembered shame and anger. “I know I should not have been out on the terrace with him, but it was not the earl’s fault. Indeed, he helped me with a man who was being importunate. But Rochford would not even let me explain. He just told me to leave, as if I were a five-year-old being sent to her room without supper. I was humiliated.”

      “I am sure you were,” Francesca sympathized. “No doubt Rochford will realize, when he has had a chance to calm down—”

      “Oh, pray, do not take his part, too!” Callie cried.

      “No, dear, of course not. I am sure he acted abominably. Men frequently do, I have found. But surely, when he reflects on it, he will be sorry he was so hasty.”

      “I sincerely doubt it,” Callie responded with some bitterness. “I tried to talk to him about it when we got home. But he still refused to give me any sort of explanation. All he would say is that he acted in my best interests—and I am supposed to be content with that!”

      “Mmm. Most annoying,” Francesca agreed.

      “Then my grandmother joined in, telling me how he was right, and that I have to do as he says. She went on about how I am under his control until I marry. And, of course, it goes without saying that I am under her control, as well.”

      Francesca, who was well-acquainted with the dowager duchess, nodded sympathetically. “It is no wonder that you were upset.”

      Callie let out a gusty sigh of relief. “I knew that you would understand!”

      “I do. It is very hard having your relatives tell you what to do.”

      Now that she had unburdened herself and had met with Francesca’s ready sympathy and understanding, perversely, Callie thought perhaps she did sound a bit childish. She gave the other woman a sheepish grin and said, “I am sorry. There is no reason to inflict all this upon you. It is just…I am so tired of the rules and СКАЧАТЬ