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?