Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

He spoke with complete certainty, as though the one true path to Juliana’s success was the one he had planned. And, yet, there was no mistaking the urgency that laced his tone. He was right—Juliana Fiori would need far more than Callie’s support if she was to succeed in society. She was the daughter of a ruined marchioness and an Italian merchant—not aristocratic, barely legitimate in the eyes of the ton.

But Gabriel St. John, the Marquess of Ralston, would not allow the dark history of his family tree to tarnish his sister’s future. The fact that the brothers St. John had committed to bring Juliana into society’s fold showed their mettle and, as a proud and committed sister herself, Callie respected their decision. These were not men who failed.

“I am eager to meet your sister, my lord.” A simple enough sentence, but one that carried an unmistakable meaning. I am with you.

He paused, watching her with the piercing, knowing gaze and, for the first time in a decade, she did not look away. When he spoke moments later, it was with a softer tone. “I did not think that you would come today.”

A hint of a smile played across her lips. “I confess, my lord, I did consider avoiding the visit.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Her cheeks pinkened as she dipped her head, shyly. “We have a bargain.”

When he replied, his voice was quieter, more thoughtful. “Indeed. We do.”

The deepened tenor of his voice sent a flood of heat through Callie, and she cleared her throat nervously, making a show at looking to a clock on a nearby table. “It is getting late, my lord. I think it is time I meet Miss Juliana. Don’t you agree?”

He held her gaze for a long moment, as if reading her innermost thoughts. Eventually, he seemed satisfied by what he saw. Without speaking, he stood and went to send for his sister.

The first thing one noticed about Juliana Fiori was not her beauty, although she was most certainly beautiful—with arresting blue eyes, porcelain skin, and a mass of rich chestnut curls that most women would commit serious bodily harm to have for themselves. It was not her delicate features, or her lilting voice, accented with her native Italian. It was not her height, although she towered above Callie and would do so over many.

No, the first thing one noticed about Juliana Fiori was her frankness.

“What silliness that we must consider the proper order of milk and tea when pouring a cup.”

Callie swallowed back a laugh. “I suppose you do not place much stock in such ceremony in Venice?”

“No. It is liquid. It is warm. It is not coffee. Why worry?” Juliana’s smile flashed, showing a dimple in her cheek.

“Why indeed?” Callie said, wondering, fleetingly, if Juliana’s brothers had such an endearing trait.

“Do not be concerned.” Juliana held a hand up dramatically. “I shall endeavor to remember tea first, milk second. I should hate to cause another war between Britain and the Continent.”

Callie laughed, accepting a cup of perfectly poured tea from the younger woman. “I am certain that Parliament will thank you for your diplomacy.”

The two shared a smile before Juliana continued, “So, were I to meet a duke or a duchess—” Juliana said as she carefully placed a piece of cake on a small plate for Callie.

“Which you most certainly shall do,” Callie pointed out.

“Allora, when I meet a duke or a duchess, I shall refer to either as ‘Your Grace.’ With all others, it is safe for me to call them ‘my lord’ or ‘my lady.’”

“Correct. At least, all others who are either titled or who have courtesy titles because of their parentage.”

Juliana cocked her head, considering Callie’s words. “This is more complicated than tea.” She laughed. “I think it is a very good thing for my brothers that I am only here for a short time. Certainly, they can quickly repair any damage their scandalous Italian sister might do in a mere two months.”

Callie offered a reassuring smile. “Nonsense. You shall set the ton on its ear.”

Juliana looked confused. “Why would I impact society’s hearing?”

Callie’s smile broadened, shaking her head. “It is a figure of speech. It means you will be a great success in society.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I predict that gentlemen will clamor to meet you.”

“Just as they did with my mother, no?” Juliana’s blue eyes flashed, and she slashed her hand through the air. “No. Please put the idea of a marriage for me out of your head. I shall never marry.”

“Whyever not?”

“What if I turn out to be just like her?” The quiet words gave Callie pause; before she could find the right response, Juliana continued. “I am sorry.”

“There is no need for you to apologize.” Callie reached out, setting one hand on Juliana’s arm. “I can imagine how difficult this must be.”

The younger woman paused, eyes on her lap. “For ten years, I have pretended that my mother did not exist. And now I discover that the only family I have left is because of her. And these men…my brothers…” Her voice trailed off.

Callie watched the younger woman carefully before saying, “They do not seem much like family now, do they?”

A flash of guilt crossed Juliana’s face. “It is that obvious?”

Callie shook her head. “Not at all.”

“I do not think they like me.”

Callie shook her head firmly. “Impossible. You are an exceedingly likeable young woman. I, for one, enjoy your company immensely.”

Juliana smiled a half smile before saying, “I believe that Nicholas has warmed to me. But Ralston…” She met Callie’s eyes, and her voice quieted. “He does not smile.”

Leaning forward, she placed a hand on the younger woman’s arm. “I should not read much into that. I believe I could count on a single hand the number of times I have seen Ralston smile.” And not for lack of watching.

Juliana shifted her gaze to where Callie was touching her, staring for a brief moment before placing her own hand on top of Callie’s. When she met Callie’s eyes, the younger woman’s expression was filled with doubt. “I am rather a lot of trouble for him, do you not think? The orphan daughter of a woman who deserted them appears one day, looking for a new family.”

Callie knew she should end this inappropriate conversation. After all, the intricacies of the Ralston family matters were just that—Ralston family matters—but Callie couldn’t help herself. “Not a new family. An old one,” she corrected. “One you were always a part of…you simply had to claim your place in it.”

Juliana shook her head. “No. They know nothing of me. I do little more than remind them of our mother. She is our only connection. I am certain that Ralston sees only her when he looks at me. I think he will be happy to see me go in two months.”

Despite her immense curiosity about their mother, Callie refrained from probing more deeply about the woman who had so callously abandoned three such remarkable children, instead saying, “Your brothers may not know you, Juliana, but they will. And they will love you. I would guess they have already begun. I predict that they will not let you leave in two months. And even if they would allow it, I hope that you will change your mind and stay.”

Juliana’s brilliant blue eyes filled with tears. “Seven weeks and six days.”

Callie’s heart clenched with sympathy for the young woman. She smiled softly, “Honestly, after spending an afternoon with you, I find that I am rather committed to your future as well. I think we shall be very good friends.”

Juliana offered Callie a watery smile. Taking a deep breath, the young woman straightened and brushed her tears away, choosing to put her insecurities aside. “Have you been a friend to my brother for a very long time?”

Callie froze at the question. “A friend?”

“Si. It is clear that Ralston holds you in high regard and considers you a friend. He was quite eager to inform me this morning that he had secured your agreement to sponsor me in society. If you were

not friends, why would you be here, risking your own status to guide me through my every misstep?”

Callie knew she couldn’t tell the truth. You see, Juliana, there comes a point in a woman’s life when she’s willing to do anything to be kissed. She paused, searching for the appropriate words; Juliana misread the meaning of the silence.

“Ah,” she said, a knowing tone seeping into the single syllable, “I understand. You are more than a friend, si?”

Callie’s eyes widened at the words, “Whatever do you mean?”

“You are his…” Juliana thought for a moment, seeking the correct phrase. “His inamorata?”

“I beg your pardon?” The question ended in a strangled squeak.

“His lover, yes?”

“Juliana!” Outrage took over, and Callie pulled herself up into her most regal of poses, adopting her very best governess tone. “One does not refer to lovers or paramours or…any other personal matters with guests!”

“But you are not simply a guest!” Juliana looked confused. “You are my friend, are you not?”

“Of course I am. However, one does not refer to such personal matters with friends either!”

“I apologize. I did not know. I thought that if you and Ralston were—”

“We are not!” The words came pouring out as Callie’s voice trembled. “Not lovers. Not even friends! I am here to help you because I like you. I enjoy your company. The Marquess of Ralston has nothing to do with it.”

Juliana looked Callie directly in the eye, waiting several moments before responding. “I enjoy your company, as well, Lady Calpurnia, and I am happy to have you with me on this journey.” She then leaned forward, one side of her mouth up in an impish smile. “However, I believe there is more to your being here than goodwill. Else, why should you so passionately deny it?”

Callie’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in surprise, then closing without sound.

“Do not worry. Your segreto is safe with me.”

Shaking her head, Callie said, “But, there is no secret! Nothing to be kept safe!”

Juliana smiled more broadly. “As you say.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I shall keep it safe nonetheless.”

Callie leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing on her pupil, who was grinning as though she were a cat with a bowlful of cream.

And to think, just yesterday she had considered the marquess the most cunning resident of Ralston House.

Five

To a casual observer, the Marquess of Ralston, lounging in an oversized armchair in an elegantly styled room at Brooks’s men’s club, appeared every inch the spoiled aristocrat—legs extended carelessly, boots gleaming, in the direction of the room’s great marble fireplace; cravat loosened, but not undone; hair artfully disheveled; eyes half-lidded, watching the flames flicker and dance. From one hand, a crystal tumbler of scotch dangled, but the two fingers of amber liquid in the glass had been neglected, hovering on the brink of spilling upon the thick blue carpet.

Here, the untrained eye would note, was the portrait of a lazy dandy.

Such an observation, however, would be a gross untruth, as Ralston’s casual sprawl belied his true state—mind racing, pent-up frustration making his stillness a battle of will.

“I had a feeling I would find you here.”

Gabriel turned from the fire to meet his brother’s gaze. “If you are here to announce the existence of another St. John sibling, now is not the best of times.”

“Alas, we remain a meager trio. As hard as it is to believe.” Nick took the chair next to Gabriel with a sigh. “Have you spoken with Nastasia?”

Ralston took a deep drink. “Yes.”

“Ah. That would explain your mood. Attempting to rectify years of profligacy in mere hours is no easy task.”

“I did not agree to changing my ways—only to an increase in discretion.”

“Fair enough.” Nick tilted his head in amusement. “That is something of a beginning, I should think, with your legacy.”

Ralston’s scowl deepened. For years after his father’s death, he had cut a wide, indecorous, and rather legendary swath across London, building a reputation as a rake and a libertine, which currently stood as significantly more scandalous than was actually deserved.

“She looks so much like our mother.”

Gabriel turned his head at the words. “For all of our sakes, I hope that is the only similarity between the two of them. Else we would do well to send her back to Italy now. As it is, I expect our mother’s reputation will be difficult enough to overcome.”

“It’s lucky that you are rich and titled. Juliana will not lack for invitations to the most-anticipated events of the season. Of course, you’ll be required to attend those events with her.”

Gabriel took a drink of scotch, refusing to rise to his brother’s bait. “And how do you intend to escape a similar fate, brother?”

Nick flashed a quick smile. “No one will notice the absence of the second, lesser son of St. John.”

“They shan’t have an opportunity to, Nicholas, as you will be at every one of those events.”

“Actually, I have been asked to journey north, into Yorkshire. Leighton believes my skills are vital in finding and retrieving a statue he has misplaced. I am toying with honoring the request.”

“No. You will not rush off to play with your marbles and leave me to keep the wolves at bay.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “I shall attempt not to take offense at your assessment of my work…how long before you will allow me my freedom?”

Gabriel took a pull of scotch. “How quickly do you think we can get her married?”

“That will depend on how quickly we can disabuse her of the notion that she should not marry. She’s terrified of our mother’s influence, Gabriel. And can you blame her? The woman has left her mark on each of us. And this is Juliana’s cross to bear.”

“She is nothing like our mother. Her fear proves it.”

“Nevertheless. It is not we who must be convinced. It’s she. And the rest of London.” The brothers fell silent for several long moments before Nick added, “Do you think Juliana is the type to hold out for a love match?”

Ralston gave a little grunt of irritation. “I certainly hope the girl has more sense than that.”

“Women do tend to believe that love is their due. Particularly younger women.”

“I cannot imagine Juliana would ascribe to such fairy tales. You forget, we were raised by the same woman…it simply isn’t possible that Juliana yearns for love. Not after seeing the damage it can do.”

The twins were quiet for a long moment, before Nick said, “For all our sakes, I hope you are correct.” When Ralston remained quiet, Nick added, “Lady Calpurnia was an excellent choice of shepherd.”

Ralston offered a noncommittal grunt.

“How did you secure her participation?”

“Is it relevant?”

One of Nick’s brows shot up. “Now, I sense that it is extremely relevant.” When Ralston did not respond, Nick stood from his chair, straightening his cravat. “Marbury is hosting a card game in the next room. Care to join me?”

Ralston shook his head, instead taking a long sip of scotch.

Nick nodded and took his leave. Ralston watched under hooded lids, cursing his twin’s uncanny ability to strike at the heart of any delicate situation.

Lady Calpurnia.

He had thought her a boon—a woman with an unparalleled reputation who had simply appeared. She was the perfect solution to the problem of preparing Juliana for her first season—or so he had thought. But then he had kissed her.

And the kiss had been rather extraordinary.

He scoffed at the thought. He had been frustrated and taken aback by the arrival of his sister. Any kiss would have been a welcome distraction.

Especially one so freely given by such an enthusiastic, enjoyable partner.

Ralston hardened almost instantly, remembering the way Callie felt in

his arms, her soft sighs, the way she had so willingly given herself up to the kiss. He wondered if her excitement for kissing would translate into eagerness for other, more passionate, acts. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine her in his bed, all enormous brown eyes and full, welcoming lips, wearing nothing but a willing smile.

A burst of laughter came from across the room, yanking him from his reverie. He shifted in his chair to ease the uncomfortable tightness of his breeches, shaking his head to clear it of the vision he’d conjured and making a mental note to find himself a willing female. Quickly.

He took another drink of scotch, watching the warm liquid swirl in the glass as he considered the strange events of the night before. He could not deny the fact that Lady Calpurnia Hartwell, a plain little wallfower with a strange name—to whom he could honestly say he’d never given much thought—was rather intriguing. She certainly was not the type of female who would ordinarily interest him. In fact, she was quite the opposite of his standard preference—ideally exquisite, confident, and experienced.

Then why did she so intrigue him?

Ralston was saved from having to consider the question further by another eruption of raucous noise from across the room. Eager for some distraction from his disconcerting thoughts, he turned his attention to a group of men eagerly calling out wagers. Finney, the bookmaker, was scribbling the bets in the Brooks’s betting book as quickly as he could.

Leaning forward in his chair for a better view, Ralston quickly deduced the focus of the men’s interest, Baron Oxford. With Oxford at the center of the betting, there was little question as to what the topic must be—the baron’s seemingly endless search for a wife. For several months, Oxford, deep in debt largely because of his penchant for gambling, had publicly announced to the membership of Brooks’s that he was looking to marry—the richer the bride, the better.