The analogy spurred a burst of irate Italian. While Callie did not wholly understand the words, Juliana’s meaning was unmistakable.
Nick flashed a grin at Callie. “I do not imagine women take well to being compared to foliage.”
“Certainly not Italian women, it seems.”
Her words drew a bark of laughter from him which, in turn, drew a pair of angry looks from the other couple. Clearing his throat, Nick turned to Callie and, holding out a hand, said, “Shall we show them how it is done?”
Callie looked down at the proffered hand, dumbfounded. “My lord?”
“Come now, Lady Calpurnia,” he whispered teasingly, “never tell me you are afraid that Latuffe will critique your form.”
Callie squared her shoulders in mock affront. “Certainly not.”
“Well then?”
She placed her hand in his.
“Excellent.”
And, with a wave of the hand at the pianist, who began another waltz, Nick swept her into his arms and they started across the room. As they dipped and turned their way through the sun-drenched ballroom, Callie craned her neck to keep watch over the bickering Juliana and Latuffe.
“Lady Calpurnia,” Nick said finally, “I would be offended by your lack of interest were I not so very sure of myself.”
Callie snapped her attention back to Nick at the words, only to laugh at the twinkle in his eye. “Apologies, my lord. I am merely preparing to enter the fray should the two of them come to blows.”
“Never fear. I shall be the first to leap to Latuffe’s aid should my sister act on the emotions with which she so clearly struggles.” He tilted his head toward Juliana, and Callie looked in that direction, to find his sister looking thoroughly annoyed.
“’Twould be a pity if Italy and France were to war so soon after Napoleon was bested,” Callie said, wryly.
Nick grinned. “I shall do my best to foster a universal peace.”
“Excellent,” Callie said, with mock seriousness. “But you do understand that may require playing dance master yourself?”
Nick pretended to consider the proposition. “Do you think the pianist would come back?”
Enjoying their game, Callie tilted her head and made a show of considering the wiry young man at the pianoforte. “Likely not, my lord. Aren’t you lucky that your brother is a virtuoso?”
The words were out before she could consider their implication. To Nick’s credit, he did not miss a step of their waltz, instead fixing her with an intrigued look, and quietly asking, “And, how do you know that my brother plays, my lady?”
Callie hedged, desperate for an escape from the conversation. “It is…quite…well-known, is it not?” She attempted a curious, innocent look.
One side of Nick’s mouth kicked up in amusement. “No. It isn’t. Yours would have been a convincing effort, however, were I not his twin brother.” He paused, watching as defeat fell across her face. “When have you heard him play?”
Callie’s mouth opened, then closed.
“Or should I ask, where have you heard him play?”
Was he teasing her? She was caught, but would not go down without a fight. Meeting Nick’s eyes again, she said, “Nowhere.”
He leaned close and whispered. “Liar.”
“My lord,” she protested, “I assure you that Lord Ralston has not…”
“There’s no need for you to defend him,” Nick said casually. “You forget I know my brother well.”
“But we haven’t—” Callie stopped, feeling a telltale spread of heat across her cheeks.
Nick raised one eyebrow. “Indeed.”
Callie turned her gaze to Nick’s cravat, attempting to distract herself with the cambric knot. He allowed her to remain quiet for several moments before he let out a rich laugh. “Never fear, my lady, your secret is safe with me, although I confess a twinge of jealousy. After all, it is well-known that I am by far the handsomer St. John.”
She could not contain her own laughter as he turned her quickly, pulling her almost off her feet and lightening the moment. Smiling up into eyes twinkling with boyish amusement, Callie’s eyes lingered on Nick’s scar briefly before she caught herself and looked away.
“It’s a horrid-looking thing, isn’t it?”
Callie looked back at him, giving his cheek a frank perusal. “Not at all. Indeed, it is a surprise, but I have heard many women say they think you all the more handsome because of it.”
He made a show of grimacing at the words. “They romanticize it. I am no pirate to be reformed.”
“No? That is a pity. I heard that you spent half a decade sailing the Mediterranean, plundering ships and abducting innocents.”
“The truth is much less exciting.”
She feigned a look of horror. “Don’t tell me. I prefer my version.”
They laughed together, and Callie wondered at the fact that she could be so at ease with Nicholas St. John when his mirror image held such power over her emotions.
It had been just over a week since she had seen Ralston last—since he had smuggled her out of his fencing club and into his carriage to return her to Allendale House. She had been to Ralston House several times in the eight days, both to oversee Juliana’s lessons and with Mariana to take tea with the young woman, and, each time, she had hoped to have an excuse to see Ralston; hoped that he might seek her out. For, certainly, with a houseful of servants and such an openly social sister, he must have known when Callie was in the building.