Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (Love By Numbers #1)(16)

Callie swallowed nervously, averting her gaze from the scandalous furnishing, her eyes alighting on the master of the house, seated on the far end of the room, his back to the door, at a pianoforte. She had never imagined a piano outside of a conservatory or a ballroom—certainly never as an addition to a bedchamber. He had not turned away from the instrument at her intrusion, instead raising a hand to stay any words that might have interrupted his playing.

The piece he played was dark and melodic, and Callie was immediately captivated by its blend of talent and emotion. She watched, riveted by his tanned and corded arms, bare to the elbows, where his white-linen shirtsleeves had been haphazardly rolled; by his strong hands dancing deliberately, instinctively across the keys; by the curve of his neck as his head dipped low in concentration.

When he finished the piece, the last of the notes lingered in the heavy air as he lifted his head and turned toward the door, revealing long, muscled legs in tight breeches and knee-high riding boots; his shirt, open at the collar, without cravat or waistcoat to hide the sliver of skin there; the rippling muscles of his shoulders as he straightened on the stool.

When he noticed her, the only sign of his surprise was a slight narrowing of his gaze, barely perceptible as he searched for her identity in the dim light of the room. She was never more thankful for her hooded cloak than at that moment. He stood calmly and folded his arms.

An untrained eye would have thought that his position was one of carelessness, but Callie’s years of watching rather than participating in London society had given her a keen sense of awareness. He appeared all at once angular…more tense, the muscles in his arms taut with coiled strength. He was not happy to have a visitor. At least, not a female one.

She opened her mouth to speak, to apologize for her intrusion, to escape, but before she could say anything, his words cut across the room. “I should have guessed that you wouldn’t accept my ending our acquaintance. Though, I confess I am surprised that you would be so bold as to visit me here.”

Callie’s mouth closed in surprise as he continued, his tone firm, his words cold. “I had not wanted to make this more difficult than it had to be, Nastasia, but I see you will not accept my decision. It is over.”

Dear Lord. He thought her a tossed-over paramour! Granted, she wasn’t exactly presenting herself as a gentlewoman, arriving as she had—unbidden—on the doorstep, in the dead of night, but this was really too much! She should correct him.

“Nothing to say, Nastasia? That’s rather out of character, is it not?”

Then again, remaining silent required far less courage than revealing herself to this imposing man.

He gave an irritated sigh, clearly through with the one-sided conversation. “I think I was more than generous with the end of our agreement, Nastasia. You retain the house, the jewels, the clothes—I’ve given you more than enough rein with which to bridle your next patron, have I not?”

Callie gasped, outraged at the way he was so callously and cavalierly ending a romance.

Her response garnered a humorless laugh from the marquess. “There is no need to play the shocked miss. We both know that naïveté escaped you long ago.” His tone was cool and emotionless as he dismissed her, “You may find your own way out.” He resumed his seat, turning his back to her and beginning to play once more.

Callie had never thought she would feel for one of the courtesans who lurked on the edges of the ton as mistresses of the aristocracy, but she couldn’t help but take offense on this particular woman’s behalf. And to think, she had thought Ralston a pillar among men!

She stood, fists clenched in womanly outrage, wondering just what she should do. No…she knew what she should do. She should leave this room immediately and flee this house. She should return to her quiet, calm life and forget her silly list. But that was not what she wanted to do.

What she wanted to do was teach this man a lesson. And her anger made her brave enough to stay.

He did not look back as he said, “I beg you not to make this situation any more awkward than you have, Nastasia.”

“I’m afraid this situation can only become more awkward, my lord.”

His head whipped toward her as he shot from his seat. If she were not so irritated, she would have been vastly entertained. “You see, I am not who you quite obviously believe me to be.”

She had to give him credit. His surprise was almost immediately replaced by shuttered calm. “Indeed you are not, Miss…” He paused, waiting for her to identify herself. He continued after a long silence, “It appears that you have the advantage of me.”

“Indeed, it does seem that way.” Callie was shocked by her own boldness.

“May I assist you in some way?”

“I had thought so. However, after witnessing the manner in which you address the women in your life, I find I would rather not join their ranks.”

One of his dark eyebrows kicked up at her words. Callie took that as her cue to escape. Without another word, she turned abruptly and grasped the door handle. She had opened the door not a quarter of an inch when a large, strong hand shot over her shoulder and closed it again. Dear Lord…he was fast. She tugged at the handle with both hands, but her strength was no match for his; that single, strong arm kept the door firmly shut.

“Please,” she spoke, her words barely above a whisper, “let me go.”