What a lovely thing for him to say.
She swallowed, closing her fingers over the edge of the paper.
He watched her fingers, so closely entwined with his own, as he considered her words. He could not help but be intrigued. “So, this a list of actions that Lady Calpurnia believes constitute living.”
She recognized the words from their earlier conversation. Perhaps if he had spoken them prior to their interlude on the floor of the practice room, she would have agreed with them. Those few, precious moments in Ralston’s arms, however, had changed everything. In that embrace, Callie had really lived. She had finally experienced the life she’d dreamed of since that first chance meeting with Ralston, a decade—a century—ago. And now, drinking scotch rather paled in comparison—tavern or no. Of course she couldn’t tell him that.
“The list is mine. I would appreciate your returning it, unopened. This conversation is embarrassing enough, I should think.”
He neither responded nor released the paper, forcing her to meet his eyes. He must have seen the truth in hers, because he relinquished his prize. She refolded the paper and inserted it into the pocket of her jacket with all speed. He watched her movements carefully before saying, “I gather fencing is on this list?”
She nodded.
“And scotch?”
Another nod.
“What else?”
Kissing. “Gambling.”
“Dear Lord. And?”
“Cheroot.”
He snorted. “Well that shall be a difficult one. Not even I would let you smoke a cheroot. And my morals are questionable at best.”
His words, so supercilious, set her on edge. “Actually, my lord, I have already crossed that particular item off my list.”
“How? Who gave you a cheroot?”
“Benedick.”
“Of all the irresponsible things—” Ralston paused, amazed. “I shall have his head.”
“That’s what he said about you and scotch.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, I imagine he did. So he knows about this ridiculous list?”
“Actually, no. Only my maid knows.” She paused. “And, well…now you.”
“I wonder what your brother will say when he finds out I wounded you at his fencing club?”
The question, so calm, sent her eyes flying to his. “You wouldn’t!” she said incredulously.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, retrieving her gloves and passing them to her.
Taking the gloves, she let them hang from distracted fingers. “You can’t!”
“Whyever not?”
“Think of—” She paused, considering her words. “Think of what it would say about you!”
He smiled, making a production of pulling on his own gloves. “It would say I am a rake and a libertine. And I think we’ve already established the truth in that.” The words were spoken in a tone that only underscored their truth, and Callie’s ears burned as she recognized them as those she had flung at him in anger at the theatre several evenings earlier.
He pressed on. “Not to mention the fact that you have to exit the club without being discovered by any number of other men who would be more than happy to regale your brother—and legions of others—with tales of your indiscretion. You may have arrived at a quiet time of day, Empress, but it’s nigh on five o’clock now. The hallways will be teeming with men, eager to have their afternoon exercise before returning home for dinner and the evening’s festivities.”
She hadn’t considered that. She’d been so focused on getting into the fencing club that she hadn’t really imagined that leaving would be just as much of a challenge—perhaps more. Now that he had drawn her attention to their presence, she could hear shouts of male laughter and raucous conversation coming from other members of the club as they passed, unknowing, just outside the room. She quashed a flood of embarrassment at the notion that any one of those men could have entered minutes ago and caught them in the midst of a highly inappropriate act.
“Of course, I would be happy to keep quiet”—his words broke into her thoughts—“and to help you escape from the difficulty in which you seem to have found yourself. For a price.”
Her brows snapped together, and she looked at him warily. “What price?”
He lifted her mask and handed it to her. “I shall protect your reputation today if you allow me to do so for the duration of your list.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Ah,” he said genially, “I see you take my meaning. Yes. If I discover that you’ve completed another item on that list without my escort, I shall tell your brother everything.”
She was silent for a long moment, emotions flaring. “That’s blackmail.”
“A loathsome word. But if you must label it such, so be it. I assure you it’s for the best. You obviously need a chaperone and, for the good of both of our families, I am offering my services.”
“You can’t…”
“It would seem that I can,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Now, you can either put on your mask and let me help you exit this club, or you can put it on and take your chances on your own. Which will it be?”
She met his eyes for a long moment. As much as she wanted to leave him there, smug expression on his face, and find her own way out of the mess, she knew that his would likely be the quickest and easiest exit strategy.
Callie donned her mask, taking her time as she tucked her hair up under the cowl, away from view. When she was done, she spoke, her words muffled by the wire mesh.