Ralston nodded calmly, testing the tender skin around his eye. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”
Benedick moved to a low table nearby and poured two tumblers of scotch. Offering one to Ralston, he said, “I suppose you had better explain yourself.”
Accepting the glass, Ralston said, “It’s quite simple, actually. I’ve compromised your sister, and I should like to marry her.”
Benedick sat down in a large leather chair and watched Ralston carefully for a moment. “If it is so simple, why did you arrive at my home sopping wet in the middle of the night?”
Taking the chair across from the earl, Ralston said, “Well, I suppose it is simple to me.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawned. “Callie has refused you.”
“Your sister is infuriating.”
“She does have a tendency to be so.”
“She won’t marry me. So I am here to enlist your help.”
“Of course she will marry you,” Benedick said, and a wave of relief coursed through Ralston—far more powerful than he would have liked to admit. “But I shan’t force her. You’re going to have to convince her.”
The relief was short-lived. “I’ve tried. She won’t hear reason.”
Benedick laughed at the surprise and frustration in Ralston’s voice. “Spoken like someone who did not grow up with sisters. They never hear reason.”
Ralston gave a small smile. “Yes, I’m beginning to see that.”
“Has she told you why she won’t marry you?”
Ralston took a long pull of scotch and considered his reply. “She says she loves me.”
Benedick’s eyes widened before he said, “That seems like a reason to marry someone.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He leaned forward in his chair. “How do I convince her of that?”
Benedick leaned back in his chair, met Ralston’s scowl and took pity on him. “Callie is a hopeless romantic. She has been since she was a little girl. It’s the natural result of our being the products of a complete and utter love match, her reading every romantic novel she could get her hands on over the last twenty years, and my own encouragement of her resistance to the institution of the loveless marriage. I’m not surprised she won’t marry you without the promise of love. So, it raises the question: Do you love her?”
“I—” Ralston stopped, his mind racing. Did he love her?
One side of Benedick’s mouth kicked up as he watched the thoughts play over Ralston’s face. “You shall have to do better than that when she asks you, old man.”
“I would make her a good husband.”
“I do not doubt it.”
“I’ve the money, the lands, the title to do it.”
“If I know Callie, she doesn’t care about any of that.”
“She does not. Which is yet another reason why she is legions better than I deserve. But you should care. So I am telling you.”
Benedick’s rich brown gaze locked with Ralston’s firm one, and understanding passed between them. “I appreciate it.”
“Then I have your blessing?”
“To marry her? Yes, but it is not my agreement you must secure.”
“I shan’t force her. But in order to convince her, I need some time with her. Alone. I should like it sooner rather than later.”
Benedick took a sip of scotch and watched Ralston carefully. Noting the frustration in his eyes, the tension in his form, the earl took pity on the man whom his sister was running ragged. “If Callie is half as distraught as you appear to be right now, she is in the library.”
Ralston’s brows snapped together. “Why would you tell me that?”
One side of Benedick’s mouth kicked up. “Suffice it to say I don’t like the idea of my sister even half as distraught as you look. Try the library. I shan’t bother you. But, dear God, don’t get caught by my mother, or there will be hell to pay.”
Ralston smiled halfheartedly at Benedick’s jest. “I shall try my best to keep a low profile, but, to be honest, your mother demanding I make it right might be the best way to secure precisely what I want.” He stood, squaring his shoulders as though he were about to do battle. Looking down at Benedick, he said, “Thank you. I promise that I shall consider it my life’s work to make her happy.”
Benedick tipped his glass at the marquess in acknowledgment of the vow. “As long as you make it your day’s work tomorrow to secure a special license.”
Ralston nodded his head in solemn confirmation that he would marry Callie as soon as humanly possible and left the room, crossing the darkened, quiet foyer to the door of the library. He set his hand to the door handle cautiously and took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse. He’d never been so on edge; so concerned with the outcome of a conversation; so willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. And yet, here he was, certain that the next few minutes would be the most important of his life.
He pushed open the door, his eyes immediately finding her in the dim light. She was curled in one of the large leather chairs positioned by the fireplace, her back to the door, one elbow propped on the arm of the chair, holding her chin as she stared into the flames. He noticed the swath of blue satin that spilled over the edge of the chair to just barely brush the floor; she was still in the lovely blue dress she had been wearing at the ball earlier in the evening. She sighed as he closed the door quietly and approached her, noting the column of her neck, the soft skin that ran along her collarbone and down to the trimmed edge of her gown. He took a moment to stand behind her, admiring her relaxed form, as she said, “I really don’t want any company, Benny.”