Page 13 of The Wedding Challenge

Callie knew that she was behaving childishly, refusing to speak to Rochford or meet his eyes, but she could not bring herself to act as if everything were all right. And she was not sure she could say anything to him about the feelings that roiled inside her chest without bursting into tears of anger—and she refused to do that. Far better, she thought, to seem childish or foolish than to let him think that she was crying because he had hurt her.

When they reached the house, Rochford sprang lithely down from the carriage and reached up to help the duchess, then Callie, who ignored his hand and walked past him into the house. She heard her brother sigh behind her, then turn and follow her up the steps into the foyer. He paused to hand his hat and gloves to the footman as Callie headed for the wide staircase leading up to the next floor, her grandmother moving more slowly behind her.

Rochford started down the hall in the direction of the study, then stopped and turned. “Callie.”

She did not turn around, merely took the first step up the stairs.

“Callie, stop!” His voice rang out more sharply, echoing a little in the vast empty space of the large entryway. As if the sound of his own voice had startled even him a little, he continued in a more modulated tone, “Calandra, please. This is ridiculous. I want to talk to you.”

She turned and looked down at him from her place on the stairs. “I am going up to bed,” she told him coldly.

“Not until we have talked,” he replied. “Come back here. We shall go to my study.”

Callie’s dark eyes, so like her brother’s, flashed with the temper she had been keeping tamped down for the past half hour or more. “What? Now I cannot even go to my bedchamber without your permission? We must obey you in every detail of our lives?”

“Damn it, Callie, you know that is not the case!” Rochford burst out, scowling.

“No? That is all you have done for the last hour—order me about.”

“Callie!” The duchess looked from one to the other, astonished. “Rochford! What is this about? What has happened?”

“It is nothing to be concerned about,” Rochford told her shortly.

“No, nothing except that my brother has suddenly become a tyrant,” Callie lashed out.

Rochford sighed and ran his hand back through his dark hair. “The devil take it, Callie, you know I am not a tyrant. When have I ever been?”

“Never until now,” she retorted, blinking away the tears that filled her eyes.

It was, indeed, Rochford’s past history of kindness and laxity that made his present actions so much harder to bear. He had always been the most loving and easygoing of brothers, and she had treasured their relationship all the more whenever she heard other girls talk about their brothers or fathers, who issued orders and expected obedience.

“I am sorry, Callie, if I offended you tonight,” he said stiffly, with an expression of patience and reasonableness that only served to grate on his sister’s nerves. “I apologize if I was too abrupt.”

“Abrupt?” She let out a short, unamused laugh. “Is that what you call your behavior this evening? Abrupt? I would have called it high-handed. Or perhaps dictatorial.”

The duke grimaced. “I can see that you have taken it amiss, but I must remind you that I am here to protect you. I am your brother. It is my responsibility to take care of you.”

“I am not a child anymore!” Callie exclaimed. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Not that I can see,” he snapped back. “Given that I found you alone in the garden with a strange man.”

The duchess sucked in a shocked breath. “No! Callie!”

Callie flushed. “I was not in the garden. We were on the terrace, and there was nothing wrong. Bromwell was a perfect gentleman. Indeed, he helped me. He sent another fellow on his way who had not been a gentleman at all.”

“Oh!” Callie’s grandmother raised a hand to her heart, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. “Callie! You were alone with two different men in the garden?”

“It wasn’t the garden!”

“That makes little difference,” Rochford replied.

“I may faint,” the duchess said weakly, but, of course, she did not. Instead, she marched forward a few steps so that she stood right below Callie, between her and her brother.

“I cannot believe what I have heard,” she told Callie. “How could you have done something so scandalous? Have you no care for me? For your family? Sinclair is right. Of course he has responsibility for you. He is your brother and the head of this family. He has every right to tell you what you should do, and you should do as he says. What possessed you to go out onto the terrace with a man tonight? What if someone had seen you? You should be grateful that your brother was there to rescue you. I shudder to think what might have happened if he had not been.”

“Nothing would have happened. I told you, I was perfectly all right. I did not create a scandal,” Callie replied, color flaming on her cheeks.

“Until you are married and have a home of your own, you are under your brother’s control,” the duchess said flatly.