Vanquished (25 page)

Callie found her aunt sipping a glass of punch in the shadow of a potted palm and talking animatedly to a dashing older gentleman with white whiskers and a lance straight stance. Hating to interrupt, she turned back before Lottie caught her eye and beckoned her forward.

"Callie, dear, there you are." Turning to her companion, Lottie said, "Allow me to present my niece, Caledonia Rivers. Callie, this is a dear friend of mine, Maximilian St. John."

Callie fancied the older gentleman looked at her with something less than approval, but, no doubt for her aunt's sake, he managed a stiff smile and bow. "Miss Rivers, you must know your aunt is your most devoted admirer."

"That is so," Lottie said, looking between the two. "But then again there is much about Callie to admire."

"My aunt is, as usual, far too kind to me." Callie acknowledged the gentleman's courtly bow with a smile and a nod. Turning back to her aunt, who looked rather flushed she thought, she said, "Auntie, I hate to interrupt but might I beg a word with you alone?"

"Certainly, dear," Lottie replied. "Max, if you will excuse us?"

"But of course," he said though Callie didn't miss the reluctance with which he backed away. When he was out of earshot, Callie leaned in and whispered, "I was hoping you might introduce me to Lady Stonevale."

"Of course, where are my manners? I should have offered before now." Taking light hold of Callie's elbow, she ferried them across the ballroom.

Elegant in a gown of amber silk, Lady Stonevale held court amidst the milling crowd, a tall, dark-haired young man at her side. As they approached, Lottie explained that the gentleman was her eldest son, Simon, so-named after his father. Unfortunately Lord Stonevale had come down with the head cold and his eldest had stepped in to serve as host in his sire's stead.

Introductions made the rounds and then Lottie tactfully withdrew along with Lady Stonevale's son, who promised to return with glasses of punch. When they were alone, Lady Stonevale turned to Callie. "Miss Rivers, what an estimable young woman you are. I have been following your progress in the newspapers." Her ladyship's speech carried the hint of the West Country in her vowels.

"Your ladyship." Callie hesitated, wondering if a curtsy might appear a tad overdone.

She was saved from awkwardness by Lady Stonevale, who proffered a satin-gloved hand and a gracious smile. "Please, call me Christine."

Warmed by the unexpected familiarity, the complete lack of artifice, Callie shook hands. "I would be honored. And I am Caledonia, though my family and friends call me Callie."

"As I hope we shall be very great friends indeed, with your permission I shall call you Callie." Again that soft smile, the antidote to any awkwardness. "I'd like to hear more about this cause of yours."

"As I would like to hear more about your school."

Lady Stonevale inclined her head toward a velvet-covered cushion ledge. "In that case, let us sit, shall we?"

"It would be my honor . . . Christine."

"The purpose of the school is the betterment of our fallen women through education, both academic and practical. But having spoken with you, it occurs to me that education may be only one piece of the puzzle."

Seated at Lady Stonevale's side, Callie nodded, feeling she'd met a kindred spirit. "Indeed, milady, among women disenfranchisement knows no class boundary. A woman is still largely under the control of her husband or father, be she bred to great wealth or the gutters, educated or unschooled." Callie stopped herself. "Oh dear, I've gone rambling again."

Lady Stonevale shook her head. Threads of silver shone in her simply dressed honey brown hair, but her smooth face was that of a much younger woman. "On the contrary, I find your candor refreshing. Tomorrow is my 'at-home' day, as these Londoners love to say. You must call on me if you are free. I will arrange for my husband to be there as well. The poor dear man is abed with the head cold, but hopefully by tomorrow he will be sufficiently recovered."

"I would be delighted." She stood as Lady Stonevale's son returned with a glass of punch in either hand.

Lady Stonevale rose as well. "In that case, two o'clock would be best. Accepting the punch glass from her son with a smile, she said, "In matters of politics, my husband and I do not always see eye to eye, but I can assure you he is the most reasonable and feeling of men. Make your argument to him as you have done to me, and I would be highly surprised if he didn't throw his support behind your bill."

Spirits high, Callie left Lady Stonevale and struck out in search of the ladies' retiring room. She needed a moment to gather herself before she returned to the ballroom--and Hadrian. Try as she might to minimize her feelings for him as base animal attraction, lust, whatever
it
was, it was on the verge of careening out of control and taking her with it. Indeed, she felt like she was living a fairytale--something as beautifully fragile as the bubbles rising from the bottom of her fluted champagne glass. Knowing that at any moment the bubble might burst, she vowed to enjoy every moment without reservation or regret.

A trio of women gathered about the gilded wall mirror, reticules lying open on the marble-topped dressing table. Instinctively Callie stepped back, but it was too late; they'd seen her.

"Ladies." She entered, stepping within striking distance of three sharp pairs of eyes.

"Why Miss Rivers, pray don't allow us to chase you away. We are only powdering our noses as an excuse to have a bit of a chat. Won't you join us?"

Callie recognized the speaker as Miss Isabel Duncan, eldest daughter of one of the Honorable Herbert Duncan III, a crony of Josiah Dandridge and one of the more vocal opponents of the suffrage bill.

Her sister, Miss Penelope Duncan, settled her unblinking gaze on Callie. "What a lovely gown, Miss Rivers. I meant to remark upon it earlier. I for one wouldn't have the courage to wear something quite so . . . revealing." Miss Penelope's gaze settled unmistakably on Callie's breasts and her rosebud mouth formed a smirk. "But then again I suppose daring not to care what others may think is the privilege of age."

The third woman, a gaunt blonde swathed in pale pink, chimed in with, "Indeed, given your choice of color, one might wonder if perhaps you'd suffered a recent loss."

The elder Miss Duncan let out a peel of laughter that cut Callie to the quick. "The only loss Miss Rivers suffered occurred a good ten years ago when her fiance cried off, is that not so, Miss Rivers? But then given Miss Rivers's unfeminine
proclivities
. . ." She let the word hang in the air a full moment, before adding, "Who can fault him for it?" The kittenish pout she'd exhibited earlier in the ballroom when gentleman were about twisted into a sneer.

The Callie of ten years before would have fled the room in tears. Instead she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. "I very much doubt that sacrificing independent thought for feigning so-called womanliness parades as any great virtue. As for age conveying certain privileges, you have the right of it. I call on it now in allowing myself the liberty, the
pleasure,
of telling you all to go to the devil."

"Well, I never," one of them sniffed although Callie neither saw nor cared whom. One by one, they turned and filed out of the room, noses pointed north.

From the door of the lavatory, a loo flushed. "Brava! What a pack of bitches. Were I you, I shouldn't mind a single word any of them said."

A petite and very familiar-looking brunette sidled up to the counter, dipped her hands into the bowl of rose water, and then accepted a linen hand towel from the attendant standing silent as a statue in the corner. Callie recalled seeing her briefly in the ballroom on the arm of one of Hadrian's friends, the Scottish chap with the charming brogue and the laughing eyes.

Turning to Callie, she smiled and said, "I'm Katherine Lindsey, only do call me Kat. That is how my family and friends address me, and I have a suspicion you and I will be great friends indeed."

Callie took a moment to study her latest acquaintance up close. A delicately molded but slightly longish nose added interest to otherwise symmetrical features. Honey-brown curls piled high and artfully arranged around a pearled tiara afforded the illusion of height.

Drained after taking her stand, Callie sank down onto the tufted pink velvet settee. "Why is that?"

Lady Katherine joined her. "We're both rebels in our way, you because of your politics and I because of my refusal to become leg-shackled to some man simply because every woman of a certain age and station is told she must."

Leg-shackled--now here was a kindred spirit. The warmth in Lady Katherine's intelligent brown eyes invited confidences. Shoulders drooping, Callie admitted, "I feel such a fool. I shouldn't have lost my temper as I did."

"Nonsense, you'd every right to give that lot the dressing down you did but then again I'm known to have a bit of temper myself. As to the rubbish about your gown and looks, pay it no heed. You've managed to draw the undivided attention of every male in the room--the breathing ones, at any rate."

Callie angled her companion a sideways gaze. "Not quite every male, I should think."

Lady Katherine's lovely face took on a pensive expression. "If you're speaking of Mr. O'Rourke, I assure you I've done nothing to encourage his suit."

"It would seem you need do nothing at all. He is quite clearly smitten."

"Hmm, I rather think the same could be said of Hadrian. Oh, Mr. St. Claire, I should say."

Suddenly Callie recalled why the piquant face should look so strikingly familiar. "You're one of his PBs, Professional Beauties, aren't you? His bestseller, in fact."

Lady Katherine shrugged her slender shoulders. "It's a great deal of stuff and nonsense; but, then again, it pays the accounts."

Wondering why someone such as Lady Katherine would need to work as a photographer's paid model, Callie was too tactful to ask.

Lady Katherine popped up from her seat. "Shall we go back in? I for one could do with a drink."

When the call into the buffet supper came and Callie still hadn't returned, Hadrian grew restless. Though it was gauche and simply not done, he struck out in search of her. After going down more hallways and stairwells than he cared to count, he finally spotted her emerging from a side door with Lady Katherine. The two looked to be in deep conversation.

He walked toward them. Acknowledging Lady Katherine with a brief bow, he turned to Callie and said, "When the supper bell rang and you hadn't returned, I wondered if something might have happened."