The Wedding Challenge

A silence fell on them. Callie knew that Francesca was puzzled but politely waiting for her to explain her appearance after midnight.

Callie sighed. “I am sorry. Now that I am here, I’m not sure what to say.” She paused, then went on, “The fact is, Sinclair and I had a terrific row this evening.”

Francesca’s eyes opened wide. “You and Rochford? Why, what happened? I thought that the two of you got along so well.”

“We do, generally,” Callie allowed. “But tonight…” She stopped, reluctant to air her family disagreements, even to someone she had known all her life.

“You need not tell me if you don’t want to,” Francesca assured her kindly. “We can just talk about—oh, Lady Odelia’s party, for instance. It was quite a success, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, it was.” Callie grinned at the other woman. “And you are the consummate hostess. But I need to tell you. I must tell someone, and I—I think that perhaps you could help me, if you are willing to.”

“Why, of course,” Francesca replied, her curiosity fully aroused now. “Just tell me, then. Do not worry about dressing it up nicely. I have known your brother even longer than I have known you, and I dare swear nothing you tell me will shock me.”

“Oh, it is not shocking,” Callie hastened to tell her. “It is all quite ordinary, really. It is just that I have never known Sinclair to be so, well, so high-handed.”

“Ah.”

“Well, at least, not with me,” Callie went on. “He was excessively rude to a gentleman with whom I danced, a man whom even Grandmother said was a perfectly acceptable suitor. And he treated me—he treated me as if I were a child!” Heat rose in Callie’s cheeks at the memory, and her voice roughened with the remembered shame and anger. “I know I should not have been out on the terrace with him, but it was not the earl’s fault. Indeed, he helped me with a man who was being importunate. But Rochford would not even let me explain. He just told me to leave, as if I were a five-year-old being sent to her room without supper. I was humiliated.”

“I am sure you were,” Francesca sympathized. “No doubt Rochford will realize, when he has had a chance to calm down—”

“Oh, pray, do not take his part, too!” Callie cried.

“No, dear, of course not. I am sure he acted abominably. Men frequently do, I have found. But surely, when he reflects on it, he will be sorry he was so hasty.”

“I sincerely doubt it,” Callie responded with some bitterness. “I tried to talk to him about it when we got home. But he still refused to give me any sort of explanation. All he would say is that he acted in my best interests—and I am supposed to be content with that!”

“Mmm. Most annoying,” Francesca agreed.

“Then my grandmother joined in, telling me how he was right, and that I have to do as he says. She went on about how I am under his control until I marry. And, of course, it goes without saying that I am under her control, as well.”

Francesca, who was well-acquainted with the dowager duchess, nodded sympathetically. “It is no wonder that you were upset.”

Callie let out a gusty sigh of relief. “I knew that you would understand!”

“I do. It is very hard having your relatives tell you what to do.”

Now that she had unburdened herself and had met with Francesca’s ready sympathy and understanding, perversely, Callie thought perhaps she did sound a bit childish. She gave the other woman a sheepish grin and said, “I am sorry. There is no reason to inflict all this upon you. It is just…I am so tired of the rules and restrictions. Grandmother has been living with us the whole winter, talking about how old I am and still unmarried. Even Aunt Odelia tonight told me I was on the verge of becoming an ape-leader!”

Francesca made a face. “You must not let Lady Pencully bully you into anything. I know that is easier said than done, for, frankly, Lady Odelia scares me silly. I find ’tis best simply to avoid her as much as possible.”

“Yes, but she is not your great-aunt. Anyway, I don’t mind her so much. At least she does not go on and on about one’s duty and being responsible and not letting the family down. Not doing anything that might reflect badly on the duke or on the family.”

“Families can be a terrible burden,” Francesca said in a heartfelt voice. “My mother pushed me to make a good match my first year out.”

“What did you do?” Callie asked curiously.

Francesca shrugged. “I disappointed her. But it was neither the first time nor the last, I assure you.”

“I get so tired of trying to please other people.”

“Perhaps you have been trying to please too many other people too much of the time,” Francesca suggested. “Perhaps you need to think about yourself, instead.”

“That is exactly why I came to you!” Callie cried. “I knew you were the person to help me.”

“I don’t understand,” Francesca said, puzzled. “I will certainly help you if I can, but I am afraid my opinion counts for little with either Rochford or the duchess.”

“Oh, no, I do not want you to talk to them. I want you to help me find a husband.”

CHAPTER FIVE

FRANCESCA STARED at her visitor blankly. “Pardon me?”

“I have decided to marry, and everyone assures me that you are the person to turn to when one is looking for a husband.”

“But, Callie…” Francesca looked dubious. “I thought that you were upset because your grandmother and Lady Odelia were pushing you to marry. It sounds to me as if you are simply trying to please them again.”

“No. Truly, I am not,” Callie told her earnestly. “You see, it is not that I am against marriage. I am not a bluestocking who would rather spend my life quietly reading than marry. And I am not independent like Irene, or wary of tying my life to a man’s. I want to marry. I want to have a husband and children and a home of my own. Don’t you see? I do not want to spend the rest of my life as Rochford’s sister or the duchess’s granddaughter. I want my own life. And the only way I can have that is to marry.”

“But, surely, if you wanted to be on your own…you are over twenty-one and in possession of an ample fortune.”

“Are you suggesting that I set up my own household?” Callie asked wryly. “And have the entire beau monde asking what has happened to set Rochford and me at odds with each other? Or listen to my grandmother lecturing me on my ingratitude, and my duty to my brother and to her? I have no wish to break with my family. I only want to have a life apart from them. To be free from the restrictions. But I would still have them all even if I had my own household. I would have to hire an older companion, preferably a widow, to live with me, and I would still be a young unmarried woman, unable to go anywhere or do anything on my own. You know what it is like, Francesca. It is not until you are married that you have the slightest freedom at all. I would so love to have a green ball gown. Or one of deep royal blue. Or any color other than this everlasting white!”

Francesca began to chuckle. “I remember that feeling. But you can hardly want to marry just to be able to wear royal blue.”

“Sometimes I think I might,” Callie retorted, then sighed. “But of course it is not just that. I want to be married. I feel sometimes as if I am bobbing along going nowhere, simply keeping pace, waiting for my life to begin. I want to start my life.”

Francesca leaned forward earnestly. “But, surely, my dear, you must have an ample amount of suitors. I would think you would only have to beckon and a dozen men would be on your doorstep, asking Rochford for your hand.”

“Oh, I have had no lack of suitors,” Callie admitted with a sigh. “But all too often they have been fortune hunters. There are other men, I think, who are actually reluctant to even approach me because of who I am. They do not want to be seen as opportunists, or they think that I would never consider them because they haven’t the proper amount of wealth or a noble-enough name. People assume, without even meeting me, that I am very high in the instep. And I am not, you know.”