Page 60 of The Wedding Challenge

“It is the truth.”

“No. My sister told me the truth. I know what happened.”

“She lied to you,” Callie said bluntly.

His eyes flared with anger. “No.”

“Are you saying that she has never lied? She lied to me. She told me that Lord and Lady Radbourne would be with us that night at Vauxhall, but they were not. When we asked Lady Radbourne about it, she said that your sister told them that the party had been canceled. She tricked me into being there without any sort of chaperone, and then she left me there alone. She tried to—”

“I know! I know. She was trying to help me. She thought that she would please me. She knew how I wanted you, and she wanted to help me. It is different. She would not have lied to me about…about that.”

“And my brother would not lie to me.”

He looked at her, regret and sorrow in his eyes. “Then you see how it is. You are as loyal to your brother as I am to my sister. There is nothing for us.”

Callie caught her breath in pain as Bromwell walked away. He opened the door, then paused and turned back to look at her. “I am sorry, Callie, for hurting you. I—” He shook his head and went out the door, closing it behind him.

Callie raised her fist to her mouth to stifle the whimper that rose from her. She drifted to a chair and sank down in it, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

She could not stay here. She no longer cared whether people gossiped about her reaction to Lord Bromwell. She had to get away to grieve in private.

Swallowing hard, she left the library. In the foyer, she found a footman and sent him to tell Francesca that she was leaving. By the time the other footman had located Callie’s cloak and helped her into it, Francesca came hurrying out of the music room, looking worried.

“Callie, dear, are you sick? We shall go at once.”

Callie nodded, murmuring, “You need not leave.”

“Nonsense,” Francesca replied quickly, already motioning to the footman for her cloak. “I could not stay here, worrying about you. I told Lady Manwaring that you had fallen sick. She will make our apologies to Lady Whittington.”

Callie nodded and pulled up the hood of her cloak, grateful for the concealment it offered. Francesca whisked her out to their carriage and climbed in after her.

“What happened?” she asked as she settled into the seat beside Callie, reaching out to take her hand. “I saw Lord Bromwell leave the room after you did. Did he speak to you? Is that why—”

“Yes—oh, yes!” Callie burst out, no longer able to hold in her emotions. Tears began to stream from her eyes. “It is impossible! It was foolish of me to even retain the hope that—” She broke off, a sob escaping her. “Oh, Francesca! He will never be disloyal to his sister any more than I would break from Sinclair! It does not matter what I feel, or even what he feels for me. It is utterly hopeless.”

“Oh, my dear.” Tears of sympathy glimmered in Francesca’s eyes, and she put her arms around Callie as Callie collapsed against her in a storm of tears.

LORD BROMWELL STOOD UP as his sister entered the drawing room. He had left the musicale and walked straight to Daphne’s home, his emotions storming within him.

“Brom!” Lady Daphne exclaimed, coming forward with both her hands extended to take his, smiling at him with such delight that he felt a stab of guilt.

He had not been here often recently. He had not wanted to see anyone, including his sister, and he had spent most of his time at his club, drinking, or at his house, drinking, punctuated by bouts of pugilistic exercise at Jackson’s. Pounding on something, or someone, seemed to be the only thing that brought him any relief.

“I was afraid that you were still miffed with me about that little fiasco at Vauxhall Gardens,” Daphne went on, squeezing his hands. “Come, sit down with me.”

“I know that you did what you thought best,” he equivocated.

“Yes, I did.” She smiled radiantly at him, taking his answer for approval. “You know that you are all I care about.”

He managed a smile. “Well, I believe that I rank somewhere in the vicinity of clothes and jewels.”

“Oh, you!” Daphne gave him a playful push on the arm. “Shall we do something together tonight? Have you plans? I have heard of a very nice gambling club. Of course I would never think of going there by myself, but with an escort, it would be quite another matter.”

He shook his head. “I am not in a gaming mood, I fear. Save that for one of your battalion of beaux. I have come to tell you that I am leaving London.”

Daphne stared at him. “Leaving London? Whatever do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Back to the estate,” he answered. “I am better there.”