Juliana’s eyes widened. She looked at Callie, and whispered, “A young lady such as I?”
It was Callie’s turn to snicker as the Frenchman swept a surprised Juliana into his arms and, in an act that belied his diminutive size, whirled her across the ballroom floor to a rousing tune. Callie smiled genially at the obviously relieved pianist and watched as the pair swayed and turned with the music. As they danced, Latuffe kept up his litany of do’s and don’ts—Juliana was chastised in quick succession for having too firm a grip, too rigid a form, and, finally, too wild a look in her eye. Callie had a rather firm suspicion that the wild look would be less of an issue once the younger woman was out of her dance master’s grasp.
Callie couldn’t help the wide grin that had settled on her face, especially when Juliana looked her instructor square in the eye and stomped quite deliberately upon his foot. I rather expect that belied the theory that young ladies are light as air while dancing.
“Is it I, or is my sister requiring her exorbitantly expensive dancing instructor to earn every shilling?” The words, spoken at a close proximity, surprised Callie, and she whirled toward the sound to discover Nicholas St. John standing nearby, his amused attention focused on Juliana.
Callie ignored the burst of emotion in her chest, unwilling to define it as either disappointment or relief that this was the St. John who had made an appearance that afternoon. Instead, she offered Nick a bright smile, and said, “I think that given the opportunity, your sister would enjoy roundly trouncing Monsieur Latuffe.”
Nick watched silently for a long moment, during which Juliana and her dance master had rousing words about the appropriateness of young ladies smiling at other gentlemen—even her brothers—while waltzing. Turning back to Callie, Nick said, “Yes, well, I’m not entirely certain I would reprimand her for doing so.”
Callie laughed. “Between us, I’m rather tempted to allow her free rein.”
“Retribution for past dance masters?”
“That…and the supreme enjoyment of the circus that would almost certainly ensue.”
Nick raised one brow. “Why, Lady Calpurnia. I confess, I hadn’t pegged you for such a wicked sense of humor.”
“No. No! Non!” The explosion of negativity from the far end of the room interrupted Nick and Callie’s banter, causing them to share an amused look as the dance master blustered. “It is the gentleman who leads the young lady. I am the gentleman. You follow! You are merely a leaf in the wind!”
The analogy spurred a burst of irate Italian. While Callie did not wholly understand the words, Juliana’s meaning was unmistakable.
Nick flashed a grin at Callie. “I do not imagine women take well to being compared to foliage.”
“Certainly not Italian women, it seems.”
Her words drew a bark of laughter from him which, in turn, drew a pair of angry looks from the other couple. Clearing his throat, Nick turned to Callie and, holding out a hand, said, “Shall we show them how it is done?”
Callie looked down at the proffered hand, dumbfounded. “My lord?”
“Come now, Lady Calpurnia,” he whispered teasingly, “never tell me you are afraid that Latuffe will critique your form.”
Callie squared her shoulders in mock affront. “Certainly not.”
“Well then?”
She placed her hand in his.
“Excellent.”
And, with a wave of the hand at the pianist, who began another waltz, Nick swept her into his arms and they started across the room. As they dipped and turned their way through the sun-drenched ballroom, Callie craned her neck to keep watch over the bickering Juliana and Latuffe.
“Lady Calpurnia,” Nick said finally, “I would be offended by your lack of interest were I not so very sure of myself.”
Callie snapped her attention back to Nick at the words, only to laugh at the twinkle in his eye. “Apologies, my lord. I am merely preparing to enter the fray should the two of them come to blows.”
“Never fear. I shall be the first to leap to Latuffe’s aid should my sister act on the emotions with which she so clearly struggles.” He tilted his head toward Juliana, and Callie looked in that direction, to find his sister looking thoroughly annoyed.
“’Twould be a pity if Italy and France were to war so soon after Napoleon was bested,” Callie said, wryly.
Nick grinned. “I shall do my best to foster a universal peace.”
“Excellent,” Callie said, with mock seriousness. “But you do understand that may require playing dance master yourself?”
Nick pretended to consider the proposition. “Do you think the pianist would come back?”
Enjoying their game, Callie tilted her head and made a show of considering the wiry young man at the pianoforte. “Likely not, my lord. Aren’t you lucky that your brother is a virtuoso?”
The words were out before she could consider their implication. To Nick’s credit, he did not miss a step of their waltz, instead fixing her with an intrigued look, and quietly asking, “And, how do you know that my brother plays, my lady?”
Callie hedged, desperate for an escape from the conversation. “It is…quite…well-known, is it not?” She attempted a curious, innocent look.
One side of Nick’s mouth kicked up in amusement. “No. It isn’t. Yours would have been a convincing effort, however, were I not his twin brother.” He paused, watching as defeat fell across her face. “When have you heard him play?”
Callie’s mouth opened, then closed.
“Or should I ask, where have you heard him play?”
Was he teasing her? She was caught, but would not go down without a fight. Meeting Nick’s eyes again, she said, “Nowhere.”
He leaned close and whispered. “Liar.”
“My lord,” she protested, “I assure you that Lord Ralston has not…”
“There’s no need for you to defend him,” Nick said casually. “You forget I know my brother well.”
“But we haven’t—” Callie stopped, feeling a telltale spread of heat across her cheeks.
Nick raised one eyebrow. “Indeed.”
Callie turned her gaze to Nick’s cravat, attempting to distract herself with the cambric knot. He allowed her to remain quiet for several moments before he let out a rich laugh. “Never fear, my lady, your secret is safe with me, although I confess a twinge of jealousy. After all, it is well-known that I am by far the handsomer St. John.”
She could not contain her own laughter as he turned her quickly, pulling her almost off her feet and lightening the moment. Smiling up into eyes twinkling with boyish amusement, Callie’s eyes lingered on Nick’s scar briefly before she caught herself and looked away.
“It’s a horrid-looking thing, isn’t it?”
Callie looked back at him, giving his cheek a frank perusal. “Not at all. Indeed, it is a surprise, but I have heard many women say they think you all the more handsome because of it.”
He made a show of grimacing at the words. “They romanticize it. I am no pirate to be reformed.”
“No? That is a pity. I heard that you spent half a decade sailing the Mediterranean, plundering ships and abducting innocents.”