Page 56 of Making of a Scandal
“Oh, do allow me to escort you, aunts. I find I am weary as well, and will go to my bed once I have seen you both upstairs.”
Aunt Louisa had left off her spectacles in favor of the lorgnette she preferred for evening dress. She peered at Calliope through it with narrowed eyes.
“Are you all right, dear? For a girl your age to complain of exhaustion so early in the evening … Why, even Diana is still in high spirits and she is in adelicatecondition.”
“I think it is only the strain of entertaining so many guests. I will be just fine after a good night’s rest.”
“Leave the girl alone, Lou,” Doris grumbled, using a pearl-inlaid walking stick to rise to her feet. “A full day around this lot will tire even the sprightliest of ladies. Let us off to bed, then. If I am not free of these stays soon, I may burst.”
Scooping Horatius under one arm, Louisa hefted herself to her feet. “I told you not to eat so many of those tarts after dinner. But do you ever listen to me?”
Calliope offered each aunt an arm to lead them from the room, but was brought up short as Aunt Doris halted and raised her walking stick to point it in Dominick’s direction.
He remained where she’d left him, sprawled on the loveseat in the most indolent fashion, gaze still intently fixed on her. A teasing smile spread over his face as he noticed them, and Doris issued a disapproving ‘humph.’
“Watch out for that one. He’s got the look of a rake about him. Could ruin a woman with nothing more than a glance.”
It was a good thing a man’s wandering eyewasn’t enough to ruin a woman, or Calliope’s reputation would be in tatters. Dominick was looking at her as if waiting for his moment to pounce.
“A most unsuitable gentleman,” Louisa agreed.
Obviously realizing they were talking about him, Dominick widened his smile, then winked. Louisa gasped and Doris grunted, thumping her cane against the rug and tugging Calliope along.
“Impertinent,” she muttered.
“Indecent,” Louisa added, with a huff of agreement from Horatio.
Calliope breathed a sigh of relief once they were free of the room. By the time she’d seen the aunts to their bedchambers and began the walk to her own, she was weary from trying to determine what Dominick could possibly want to talk to her about.
She gave Ekta only half an ear while the woman helped ready her for bed, her stomach churning as she wondered just how she was going to survive another thirteen days in the forced company of Dominick Burke.
By the thirdday of the house party, Nick thought he might be tempted to kill someone. Who he decided to murder depended entirely on which of the two people annoying him at present found some way to further enrage him. Lady Thrush could take a hint about as well as a blind person could read a newspaper. The woman followed him about like a bitch in heat, even when he made his disinterest clear. And there was no question; he had no interest in the charms of Carlotta Thrush.
Of course, when she wasn’t giggling, simpering, and coming up with reasons to press her bosom against him, Martin Lewes was further aggravating him. The man was relentless, trailing Calliope as if he were afraid she would forget he existed should he happen to fall out of her line of sight. When he wasn’t about that, he was seeking out the viscount in a clear attempt at earning the man’s favor. Barrington bore it all with good humor, though from time to time when Lewes wasn’t looking, he rolled his eyes as if the overeager young man taxed him sorely.
For Nick’s part, he’d spent the better part of three days trying to get Calliope off alone without success. Every time he laid eyes on her, she was in the company of Lewes, her sister, her father, or one of her insufferable aunts. The two old biddies watched him like a pair of hawks, as if aware of his intentions and wanting him to know they did not approve. The words ‘lecher’ and ‘rake’ had been hissed at him whenever he stood within earshot, and the pug had nipped at his heels more than a few times.
Calliope remained as stubborn as ever, ensuring he knew she did not intend to make it easy for him. It only made him more determined. As well, the longer he was forced to watch her from a distance, the more he began to realize the truth she tried to hide from him. She didn’t hate him, nor did she love the precious Mr. Lewes. She was afraid—whether of him, the way he made her feel, or the choice she would soon face, Nick did not entirely know. But, he intended to find out.
The opportune moment presented itself quite by chance on the afternoon of the fourth day, during which a game of pall mall had been organized on the lawn of the house. Dominick had refrained from joining the game, despite being more than a fair hand with a mallet. He felt as if he had been holding his breath for days, and now his chest had begun to burn, his body trembling with the force of what built and swelled inside him.
He could take it no longer.
Watching the game from inside a sun room situated at the back of the house—with windows that offered a perfect view of the scenic grounds—Nick tracked Calliope’s movements. She walked on Lewes’s arm, her mallet held over one shoulder.
He began to pace, ignoring the curious gazes of those who had chosen to remain indoors. For once, Lady Thrush seemed to have given up her pursuit of him, leaving Nick unencumbered by her presence. Which, incidentally, left him the opening he needed.
He halted in his tracks when he noticed Calliope breaking away from the others, hanging her mallet on a nearby rack before taking her skirts in hand and making a quick escape. Nick watched with bated breath as she began making her way toward the house, her steps swift as if she were trying to outrun someone, or something.
Realizing no one intended to follow, Nick left the sun room with as much outward composure as he could muster. His pace quickened once he reached the corridor to find it empty, and by the time he arrived at the side of the house where he was certain Calliope had entered, he was at an all-out run.
He found her breezing toward him, having just entered the house.
She faltered at the sight of him, lips parting as her chest heaved with labored breath.
He closed the distance between them as she stood frozen, as if she either could not flee or didn’t want to. He had her now, taking firm hold of her arm and pulling her into a room across the corridor and slamming the door shut behind them and turning the lock.
She gasped when he whirled on her, pushing her against the door and trapping her with both hands pressed to the wood. Their gazes clashed, the defiance in her eyes melting away as he dipped his head with a rough sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed this until she was in his arms, her lips soft and pliant, body melting in supplication against the hard press of his. But, he had needed it so badly that now he’d tasted her again he didn’t think he could stop.
