Break some rules

heart aroused yet more the desire for lamentation; and he wept, holding in his arms his dear and true-hearted wife. Callie Hartwell paused in her reading, and released a deep, satisfied sigh. The sou

not the spinster sister of the Earl of Allendale, but instead, as Penelope, so deeply in love with her Odysseus that she had spurned all suitors. She conjured her hero into the vision, she, seated at a loom, he, standing strong and intense in the doorway to the room. His physical appearance came easily-it was one that had been used again and again in her fantasies for the last decade. Tall, towering, and broad, with thick dark hair that made women itch to touch it and blue eyes the color of the same sea that Odysseus had sailed for twenty years. A strong jaw, marred only by a dimple that flashed when he smiled-that smile-a smile that held the equal promise of wickedness and pleasure. Yes...they were all modeled on the only man about whom she'd ever dreamed-Gabriel St. John, the Marquess of Ralston. One would think that after a full decade of pining, she would have given up her fantasy...but it appeared that she had fallen for the rake quite squarely and most regretfully, and she was doomed to spend the rest of her life imagining him the Antony to her Cleopatra. She laughed outright at the comparison. The fact that she was named for an empress aside, one would have to be severely touched to think Lady Calpurnia Hartwell anything close to Cleopatra. For one thing, Callie had never laid a man low with her beauty-something Cleopatra was reportedto have been extraordinarily skilled at doing. Cleopatra did not share Callie's ordinary brown hair and ordinary brown eyes. Nor could the Queen of Egypt have been described as plump. Nor did Callie imagine that Cleopatra had ever been left on the edge of a ballroom for the entirety of a ball. And, Callie was certain there was absolutely no evidence that the Queen of Egypt had ever worn a lace cap. Unfortunately, the same things could not be said of Callie. But, for now, in this moment, Callie w

laughed. "He arrived with stars in his eyes...very similar to the ones in your own right now!" Mariana dipped her head shyly as Callie continued, "But you must tell me! How does it feel to have caught a man who loves you so very much? And a duke no less!" "Oh, Callie," Mariana gushed, "I don't give a farthing about James's title! I care only for James! Is he not the most wonderful, pillar of a man?" "And a duke no less!" Both women turned in surprise at the statement, spoken in a shrill pitch of barely contained excitement from the doorway of the room. Callie sighed as she recalled what had sent her into hiding earlier in the day. Her mother. "Callie! Is it not the most wonderful news?" Wryly wondering just how many times she would have to answer that particular question that day, Callie opened her mouth to reply. Not quickly enough, however. "Why,Rivington is deeply in love with Mariana! Can you imagine? A duke! In love with our Mariana!" Again, Callie began to answer, only to be cut off. "There is so very much to do! A wedding to plan! A betrothal ball to host! Menus to design! Invitations to send! Not to mention Mariana's gown! And trousseau! Oh! Mariana!" The utter bliss on the dowager countess's face was rivaled only by the utter terror on Mariana's. Callie bit back a smile and entered the fray to rescue her sister. "Mother, Rivington only proposed this morning. Don't you think we should allow Mariana some time to enjoy this momentous occasion?" Laughter entered her tone as she continued, offering a knowing look to her sister, "Perhaps, a day or two?" It was as though she

little too loud as she cast a desperate eye around the room in search of someone, anyone, to save her from a seemingly endless string of rude and impertinent family members. In the three hours since the guests had arrived for dinner, Callie had had some variation of this conversation with twelve different people. Dinner had been particularly difficult, considering she'd been sandwiched between Rivington's opinionated grandmother and a particularly callous cousin, both of whom seemed to believe that Callie's unmarried state was well within the bounds of proper conversation. She was beginning to believe that there was not a single person in either the Rivington or Allendale families with even a modicum of tact. Did they really believe that she would take no offense to being consistently reminded that she was a dusty old spinster set firmly upon the shelf? It was really too much. Seeing no salvation in her future, she settled for waving down a footman with a tray of sherry. Selecting a glass for herself, she turned to her aunt, asking, "May I offer you a refreshment, Aunt Beatrice?" "Dear me, no! I cannot stomach the stuff," the elderly woman spoke, a note of indignation in her tone. "You know, Calpurnia, drinking wine in company is liable to damage your reputation." "Yes, well, I should think there's no need for me to worry about that this evening, don't you agree?" "No, I suppose your reputation is not at risk, Calpurnia." Aunt Beatrice patted her arm with unconscious condescension. "It is a tragedy, that, isn't it? You couldn't have predicted it. With your dowry, no one would have expected you never to marry." The implication that only her dowry served to recommend Callie as a wife clouded her consciousness with shock and anger. Before she could respond, Aunt Beatrice had pressed on. "And now, at your age, we should simply give up hope. It's virtually impossible to imagine someone offering for you. Unless, of course, it was an older gentleman seeking companionship as he shuffles off this mortal coil. Perhaps that could happen." A vision flashed through Callie's mind, a pleasing fantasy that ended with Aunt Beatrice doused in sweet red wine. Shaking herself from herreverie, she carefully set down her glass and returned her focus to her aunt, who was still speculating on Callie's spin

You are too well behaved for your own good. So what did our dear, revered, valued aunt do to send you fleeing to a darkened room?" She sighed, refilling her glass. "She did nothing that no other member of the two families represented in that room failed to do. She simply did it more rudely." "Ah. Marriage." "She actually said-" She paused, taking a deep breath. "No. I will not give her the pleasure of repeating it." "I can imagine." "No, Benny. You cannot." She sipped her sherry. "I vow, had I known that this was how spinsterhood would be, I would have married the first man who propos

t you had to spend the next three months suffering unfeeling remarks related to Mari's wedding, what would you say?" "I should say, 'Hang that,' and avoid the whole thing." Callie used her sherry glass to point in his direction. "Exactly! Because you are a man!" "A man who has succeeded in avoiding a great number of events that would have led to criticism of my unmarried state." "Benedick," Callie said frankly, raising her head, "the only reason you were able to avoid those events is because you're a man. I, unfortunately, cannot play by the same rules." "Whyever not?" "Because I am a woman. I cannot simply avoid the balls and dinners and teas and dress fitt

one hand, glass in the other. Benedick raised one eyebrow at the tableau. Callie set the bottle down. "You do realize that if I do so, you, as the earl, will likely suffer the repercussions?" "I'm not suggesting you take a lover, Callie. Nor am I hoping that you'll cause a scene. I'm simply arguing that you hold yourself to a rather high standard for...well...someone who need not worry so much about a slight mark on her reputation. I assure you, skipping odious wedding-related events will not impact the state of the earldom." "While I'm at it, why not drink scotch and smoke a cheroot?" "Why not?" "You don't mean that." "Callie, I feel certain that the house will not crumble around us if you have a drink. Though I'm

ss. She shook her head finally, and the moment passed. Benedick threw back the liquid and spoke again. "I am sorry about that," he said, rising from his chair. "I should be happy to hear of you taking a risk or two, sister." The comment, spoken carelessly as he moved to leave, landed heavily on Callie's ears. She barely listened to the dry question that followed, "Do you think I'm safe in leaving this room? Or will we have to hunker down until the wedding?" She shook her head distractedly, and replied, "I should think you're safe. Tread carefully." "Will you join me?" "No, thank you. I think I shall remain here and ponder a life of adventure." He grinned at her. "Excellent. Let me know if you decide to set sail for the Orient on the morrow." She matched his smile with her own. "You shall be the first to hear of it." With that, he made his exit, leaving Callie to her thoughts. She sat for a long while, listening as the sounds of the house quieted, guests leaving, the family retiring to bed, the servants clearing the rooms that were used for the dinner, all the while playing the last moments with Benedick over and over in her mind and wondering, What if? What if she could live a life other than the staid, boring mockery of one that she currently lived? What if she could do all the things that she would never dream of doing? What was to keep her from taking such a leap? At twenty-eight, no one much thought about her. Her reputation had been impeccable for years-for all the years that it had mattered that she retain such an untarnished name. It wasn't as if she were about to traipse off and completely destroy that reputation, anyway. She wasn't going to do anything that a well-respected male member of the ton wouldn't do on any given day without a second thought. And if they could, why shouldn't she? She reached up and removed the pins securing her lace cap. Once it came free from its moorings, she plucked it from her head, several long curls of hair tumbling free as she did so, and held it in her hands, turning it over and over as she considered her next move. When had

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to one side. It didn't seem enough, did it? "Kiss someone" didn't seem to capture exactly what she meant. Biting her lower lip, she added one word. Kiss someone-Passionately Callie let out a long breath-one

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ttend the next morning. The image brought a deep chuckle from far within. Imagine! She almost stopped there, with the seven items that had come quickly. But for all that the list was a flight of fancy, Callie knew that it was much more. It was a chance for her finally to be honest with herself. To write down the things that she woul

ry dance

ne thing that Callie had looked forward to when she had her first season; but as she had aged into spinsterhood, invitations had tapered off. She hadn't danced a country dance in-well, it had been a long, long time. Too long. There in the darkness, she allowed herself to admit that all those years of standing on the edges of ballrooms across London had taken their toll. She loathed being a wallflower, but she had never been able to

sidered beauti

refully and tucking it just inside the bodice of her gown before she replaced the ink and pen. Snuffing the candle, she moved quietly toward the door. Just as she was about to exit the study and make her way upstairs, she heard a noise from outside-quiet and unfamiliar. Opening the door carefully-just a crack-Callie peered into the darkened hallway, squinting to make out anyone who might be there. The blackness beyond made it impossible to see, but there was no question that she was not alone; the open door allowed a soft giggle to reach her. "You are beautiful tonight. Perfect. The Allendale Angel indeed." "You're required to say so...to flatter your fiancée." "My fiancée." The reverence in the words was palp

er. And when Mari had caught the eye of Rivington, the catch of the ton, Callie had celebrated alongside her little sister. And Callie was happy for Mariana. But how much longer could she happily stand by as Mariana lived the life that Callie herself had longed for? Everything would change. Mariana would do all that Callie had never done. She would marry, and bear children, and run a household, and grow old in the arms of a man who loved her. And Callie would remain here in Allendale House, a spinster. Until Benedick found a wife. And she was relegated to the country. Alone. Callie swallowed back the sting of tears, refusing to allow herself to feel self-pity in the face of Ma

ington sighed. "She does. But I am afraid that only Callie can seize such a life for herself. If she remains so..." He paused, searching for the word, and Callie strained to hear-the angle of her body so unnatural that she risked toppling over entirely. "Passive...she shall never have those things." Passive? Callie imagined Mariana nodding her agreement. "Callie needs an adventure. Of course, she shall never seek one out." There was a long pause as their words-so lacking in malice and still so painful-echoed around Callie, suffocating her with the heavy weight of their meaning. And all at once, she could not seem to catch her breath or stop the tears from welling. "Perhaps you would like a

spinster to action. Reaching into her bodice, she produced the folded piece of paper she had placed there only minutes earlier. Fingering the rounded edges of the square, she considered her next move. She could go to bed, drown herself in tears and sherry, and spend the rest of her life not only regretting her inaction but-worse-knowing those around her believed her passive. Or, she could change. She could complete the list. Now. Tonight. She smoothed back an errant lock of hair; noted her missing lace cap. Tonight. She