“Fascinating!” Callie cocked her head to one side, watching the orange tip of the cheroot glow.
Closing his eyes briefly to both her innocence and his own bad behavior, Benedick took a long pull on the cigar, as though shoring up his confidence, then removed it from his mouth and offered it to his sister.
Giddy with excitement, she reached for it. Of course, once the burning tube was held gingerly between her fingers, she hadn’t any idea how to proceed. Meeting her brother’s amused gaze through the long column of smoke that was rising from the end of the cheroot, she said, “Now what?”
“Not much to it, really,” Benedick said nonchalantly. “Now you smoke it.”
“Like this?” she asked, carefully bringing the cheroot to her lips and inhaling deeply.
She noted Benedick’s eyes widening as she did so, and that was the last thing she registered before she began to cough. Horrible racking coughs that consumed her strength. She was vaguely aware of Benedick taking the burning stick from her hand, allowing her to pound upon her chest. Desperate for fresh air, she took huge gulps of breath, which only caused her to cough more, leading Benedick to bang on her back until she stopped him with a wave of her hand, fearing that the blows would simply knock any usable air from her lungs.
When she was once again able to focus on something other than her need for air, she registered her brother towering above her, trembling. Certain that he was quaking with concern for her well being, she looked up to allay his fears only to discover that he was instead shaking with barely controlled laughter. Her reassuring look immediately became a scowl as she noted his broad grin. His teeth gleamed white in his face, which was now red with exertion.
“You, sir, are no gentleman.”
The words sent Benedick over the edge. He could not contain his great rolling laughs at her prim displeasure. In the face of his infectious amusement, Callie began to see the humor in the situation, and she began to laugh as well, which brought on another fit of coughing, more pounding, and an additional round of laughter.
After several moments, Benedick resumed his seat and stamped out Callie’s cheroot in the ashtray as she watched. “And so we discover why women do not smoke,” he said, humor still lacing his voice.
“What a vile habit!” Callie said. “How can you do it?”
“Suffice it to say that it is an acquired taste.”
“That’s precisely what Ralston said about scotch.”
“And he was right,” Benedick said. After a few moments, he asked, “You did not enjoy that part of the evening, either, then?”
“On the contrary,” Callie said, “I enjoyed every bit of the evening. I may not drink scotch or smoke a cheroot again, but I shall always cherish the fact that I did those things. The adventure is well worth the disappointing experience.”
“I do not like this taste for adventure you have developed, sister.”
“I am afraid I cannot guarantee I shall be rid of it anytime soon. It’s a shame that woman are not able to even try the experiences that men so take for granted. You lot really are quite lucky.” Benedick turned a skeptical look on her, but she pushed on. “Come now, Benedick, you’re not really going to tell me you don’t think I deserve an adventure or two, do you? After all, you provided me with the most recent instrument of my demise.”
“A point I should like to forget.”
“Coward.”
They smiled at each other.
“Mother will have my head if she finds out.”
“She won’t find out,” Callie said, “and, even if she did, it’s not as though she has anything to worry about. I’m well and truly on the shelf. I should think I’m allowed an eccentricity or two.”
Benedick snorted with laughter. “Smoking and drinking are rather remarkable eccentricities, Callie. I’m not sure the ton would accept them—despite your having one foot in the grave.” He paused, thinking. “I’m rather shocked that Ralston would encourage you, what with you being so kind as to sponsor his sister. What was he thinking? He should have packed you into a carriage and brought you home immediately.”
Callie had the good sense to avoid telling her brother that Ralston had in fact packed her into a carriage and brought her home. Instead, she said, “I imagine he felt, as you did, that he would better serve my reputation by staying with me while I pushed the boundaries. At least, then, I had a chaperone.”
“I would not exactly refer to him as a ‘chaperone,’” Benedick growled. “I should call him out.”
“I would prefer you didn’t. I rather like him.”
He met her eyes. “You don’t—You can’t—” He leaned forward. “What does that mean?” She did not respond, leaving Benedick to try again. “Ralston…he isn’t…Callie, women don’t ‘rather like’ the Marquess of Ralston.”
Her voice was barely audible when she said, “No, I don’t suppose they do.”
As he registered the sadness in his sister’s voice, Benedick swore softly. “I saw that he danced with you tonight. I know how that must have felt. I understand that he played the part of protector at the ridiculous tavern you went to—Lord knows I’m glad he found you there or who knows what might have happened to you—but you must understand…Ralston…men like Ralston…” He stopped again, uncertain of how to say delicately what he was thinking.
Callie took pity on him and offered him an exit from the awkward conversation. “I know, Benedick. I’m not silly. Men like Ralston are not for women like me.”