Her brother leaned forward, taking note of Ralston’s disappearance. Meeting her eyes, he said quietly, “No adventures, Callie.”

She forced a smile. “No adventures.”

And she left the box.

Hurrying along the dimly lit hallways of the theatre, her mind raced, wondering if she would find Ralston before he destroyed Juliana’s chances at success. Callie would wager Allendale House itself that he’d escaped to meet his paramour in this very theatre more than once in the past—he likely knew the shortest path to Miss Kritikos’s dressing room. She could not help the little exclamation of disgust that came with the thought.

She tore around a corner into the upper colonnade to find Ralston heading for the wide, grand staircase. A glance around revealed the space empty of people, and Callie could not resist calling out to him, “Ralston! Stop!”

He froze on the top stair, casting a disbelieving look at the arcade, where she was hurrying to catch him. Once he registered her purpose, his obvious disbelief turned to fury, and he retraced his steps until he was face-to-face with her.

Before she had a chance to speak, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a darkened corridor. Voice filled with anger, he whispered, “Are you mad?”

Breathing heavily with both exertion and irritation, she yanked her arm from his grasp, and whispered back, “I could ask you the very same thing!”

He ignored her words, “What are you doing out here? If you were discovered—”

“Oh, please,” she cut him off. “It is a public theatre. What do you think would happen if I were discovered? Someone would point me in the direction of the ladies’ salon, and I would be on my way. But what if you were discovered?”

He looked at her as though she were crazed. “What are you talking about?”

“You aren’t the most discreet, Lord Ralston,” she spat his name. “For someone who is so very concerned about his sister’s reputation, one would think you would have more care with it.” She poked his shoulder with a single, gloved finger. “I saw the note! I know you are off to meet your…your…”

“My?” he prompted.

“Your—your mistress!” With each word, she poked him harder.

He grabbed her finger on the last word and flung it away from him. His blue eyes flashed dangerously. “You dare to chide me? You dare to question my behavior? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m the woman you chose to guide your sister into society. I will not have you ruin her chances for one night of…”

“You will not have me? Was it not you who was flirting shamelessly with a drunken dandy in full view of the entire ton?”

Her mouth fell open. “I most certainly did not!”

“Well that is how it appeared, my lady.”

“How dare you!” she said, furious, “How dare you speak to me about shameless flirting! I was not the one making eyes at an actress while she was in the midst of a performance!”

“That’s enough,” he said, his tone barely even.

“No. I don’t think it is!” Callie pressed on, unable to control herself. The floodgates had opened. “I am not the one rushing off to tryst with my…painted paramour…while my sister faces the most difficult challenge of her life! Have you any idea what the ton will do to her if you are discovered, you insensitive…beast!” The last word was shrill.

His eyes shuttered as his face turned to stone. Fists clenched at his sides, he spoke, and his tone betrayed his barely leashed temper. “If you are quite through, Lady Calpurnia, I believe this conversation is over. I find I no longer require your assistance with my sister.”

“I beg your pardon?” she was outraged.

“It’s quite simple, really. I don’t want her near you. You are too much of a risk.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “I, a risk?” she replied, her voice was shaking with fury. “Oh, I shall see your sister, my lord. I won’t see her chances ruined. And, furthermore”—she held a single finger up to his nose—“I will not be told what to do by a notorious—and now proven—rake and libertine.”

He lost his temper then, capturing her hand, wagging finger and all, in his own and using it to pull her flush against him. “If I am to be labeled as such, I may as well stop resisting the part.” And, with that, he kissed her.

She fought him, wriggling under the strength of his kiss, but no matter which direction she turned, he was there, all strong arms and firm muscle and hard, unyielding mouth. Her fists pounded on his shoulders fleetingly before he grasped her waist with both hands and lifted her from the ground—leaving her with no choice but to cling to him as he pressed her against the wall. She gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and he took the opportunity to plunder her mouth, both hands cupping her face, stealing her breath.

She matched his movements with lips and tongue and teeth, refusing to allow him the upper hand, even in this. Stroke for stroke, where he went, she followed. He captured her sighs with his mouth; she reveled in his low hum of pleasure. After several intense moments of the sensual battle, his lips gentled, caressing hers as his tongue stroked along the soft, sensitive skin of her lower lip, ending the kiss infinitely more gently than it had begun.

The caress wrung a little cry from Callie, and Ralston smiled at the sound, pressing a final, soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, and their gazes collided. There was no sound in the hallway save their labored breathing—reminding them both of the intensity of the argument that had preceded the kiss.

He raised a single dark eyebrow in a silent, victorious gesture.

The arrogant expression renewed her fury.

Pulling herself up to her full height, she said, “I am not one of your women, to be mauled in public. You would do well to remember that.”

“Forgive me,” he said, mockingly, “but you did not seem so very opposed to playing the role.”

She could not help herself. Her hand flew of its own volition, in a direct line for his cheek. Even as she moved to slap him, she dreaded the blow, unable to stop the motion. When he caught her hand in a viselike grip, mere inches from his face, she gasped in surprise, meeting his eyes and immediately recognizing the anger in them.

She had overstepped her bounds. Dear Lord. She’d tried to strike him. What had possessed her? She struggled to free her hand, only to discover his hold was thoroughly unyielding.

“I—I’m sorry.”

He narrowed his gaze but remained silent.

“I shouldn’t have…”

“But you did.”

She paused. “But, I didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, dropping her hand and taking a moment to straighten his coat. “One cannot have one’s cake and eat it, too, Lady Calpurnia. If you plan to make a habit of acting without care of the consequences, I would recommend taking ownership of those actions. You meant to strike me. At least have the courage to admit it.” He paused, waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t, he shook his head. “Amazing. I hadn’t thought you a coward.”

His words sent an angry wash of color across her cheeks. “Stay away from me,” she said, voice shaking with emotion, before she spun away from him, fleeing in the direction of the lit foyer and Rivington’s box.