Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 1

One

Ten years later

“L ady Calista, I am so glad to see you at your cousin’s festivities. It has been far too long.”

Calista smiled politely at the young lady whose name slipped her memory, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t have to use it. She wasn’t entirely sure that two years was ‘far too long’ but there was no point in saying so. She couldn’t have attended last year’s festivities anyway, since she’d been in the throes of a fever that had left her bedridden for the entire Yuletide season.

She made polite conversation with the young woman and her mother before extracting herself and hiding by a potted plant, just for a moment, just to gather herself.

This was the first large social event she’d attended since falling ill last year. Even after her fever had broken, she’d been left too weak to travel to Town for the Season. Speculation had been rife, of course. Marianne had heard all sorts of rumors. That Calista had eloped to Gretna. That she’d stowed away on a ship to the West Indies. That she’d been with child and had been hidden away by her family.

It hadn’t been pleasant and she’d often written back to Marianne despairing of the fact that she would be stuck in this horrid life until death. With whispers following her everywhere when she was eventually well enough to return to Society.

Marianne, when she’d come to stay, had been her usual pragmatic self and claimed that Calista shouldn’t waste her youth worrying about vipers’ tongues and scandal seekers. That she should concentrate on getting well and that she should enjoy the fact that she was now a young debutante with an air of mystery about her. Something that would make her the toast of every gathering.

But the truth was that being here, under the scrutiny of so many people, made her positively nauseated. She didn’t want an air of mystery. Her months of near solitude had led her to be almost scared in big crowds. Which was particularly inconvenient given the massive soiree she was currently attending.

Calista’s gaze fell to Marianne, beautifully elegant on the arm of her husband. Marianne had managed that rarity in the ton; a love match. Her viscount had the requisite title, and enough money to satisfy Calista’s father since he had been in charge of Marianne’s marriage negotiations. And more importantly for Calista – he adored his wife.

Marianne had been lucky. Not only in her choice of husband but in the freedom she’d had in choosing him. The niece of the Earl of Chanton wasn’t as restricted as the daughter, so Marianne had been allowed to court, to be wooed, to finally choose someone she wanted, though he had needed Papa’s approval.

Calista’s match would be chosen for her. And she wouldn’t have anything to do with it.

For now, at least, she was free. Even Papa hadn’t been cruel enough to force an arrangement when she’d been on her deathbed.

Her lips quirked as she watched David lean down and sneak a kiss from Marianne. Right on the lips. And Calista’s smile widened as she remembered that silly conversation they’d had as girls that had somehow stuck with them both. Only kiss a man you love.

Marianne’s cheeks flushed as her husband lifted his mouth from hers and gave her a wink before turning back to the receiving line.

Calista remembered with perfect clarity the day Marianne had burst into their Mayfair townhouse and declared that she’d found the man she’d marry. Calista had been only seventeen and not yet out but had come to London to support Marianne in her Season. Had watched the comings and goings of several gentlemen drawn to Marianne’s blonde, blue-eyed beauty and sparkling wit. But Marianne hadn’t shown a preference for any of them.

And then David had come to call. Calista had known, perhaps even before Marianne, that David was different. That Marianne was different around him. And then one night, she’d come back from Vauxhall Gardens and declared that she’d kissed David. Properly kissed him. And her fate had been sealed.

Calista, true to their pact, had never been kissed. During her first Season, when she’d gone through the pretense of a courtship, a baron had kissed her hand. When she’d attended Almack’s with a smooth-tongued marquess, he’d kissed her cheek.

And once when she’d been accosted on a balcony at a ball, a drunken duke had thrown himself against her like a rutting pig and plunged his tongue inside her mouth. That had been her last encounter with a gentleman, though the word certainly didn’t apply,

But she’d never kissed him back, and she’d never received a kiss like the ones she often saw between Marianne and David. Now, she likely she never would. She felt an odd pang in her chest at the thought, which was foolish in the extreme. How could she be dreading becoming a wife, but be sad about that one, tiny thing? Ridiculous.

Frustrated with herself for such useless sentimentality, she stepped out from behind the plant – face first into a rock-hard mass.

“Oof,” Calista staggered back from the impact and would have fallen straight onto her backside if a set of hands hadn’t darted out and grabbed hold of her. Breathless, she looked up to see who or what she’d walked into and her heart stopped dead in her chest.

Towering over her, grey eyes sparkling, was one of the most handsome men she’d ever encountered. His dark brown hair was almost black in the flickering candlelight around them, and his face – good lord, it was shocking. His jaw looked as though it could have been carved from granite and his smile was so mischievous she felt that stopped heart begin again at a racing pace.

“Whilst I enjoy a beautiful woman falling for me as much as the next man, I don’t think I’d be forgiven for letting you hurt yourself,” he said by way of greeting.

Calista didn’t quite know what to say in response. She could only blink up at him as her scrambled brain rearranged itself enough to notice his hands were still wrapped around her upper arms, scorching the skin exposed by the short sleeves of her gown. To notice that he’d called her beautiful.

His smile faded and the gleam in his eye dulled with concern.

“ Are you hurt?” he asked, his deep voice laced with concern.

“N-no,” she managed to stammer. “I – thank you. I’m quite well.”

The grin reappeared and it took more effort than it should have for Calista to take a step back from him, forcing him to drop his hands.

“What were you doing hiding behind a plant?” he asked baldly, and Calista could only gape once again.

For some reason, his question made her feel defensive. She didn’t like how foolish it made her sound; a grown woman hiding behind plants. And even though that’s exactly what she’d been doing, she still didn’t like it.

“I wasn’t hiding,” she snapped. “I was just – I was –“

“Hiding?” he supplied unhelpfully.

Calista merely scowled at him.

“Fine, fine,” he held his hands up. “You weren’t hiding.”

There was a pause while Calista tried to think of something to say. But he saved her the trouble.

“So, can I ask what you weren’t hiding from?”

Who on earth was this man? Had he no sense of propriety? No regard for rules and – and decorum?

“Let me guess,” he continued, as though she was an active or even willing participant in this bizarre exchange. “Some lech with wandering hands is chasing you down? Or perhaps a marriage-minded mama with a wholly unpleasant candidate for a husband? Or maybe a terribly loud and braying relative whom you cannot seem to escape?”

“Wh – I – what?” Calista had never felt so wrong-footed in her life. Had never been in such a situation. And she didn’t quite know what to do about it. She didn’t even know this oddly forward man! He could be anyone. He could be a murderer or, or –

“Ah, Ezra. There you are. I thought you’d managed to escape after all.”

Both Calista and the stranger – Ezra apparently – turned at the sound of David’s voice.

“I see you’ve already met Calista.”

Calista frowned between the gentlemen, suddenly feeling as though she were in the middle of two towering oaks.

“I was just getting around to an introduction,” the man smiled, and Calista tried very hard to ignore the dimples that appeared.

“Then allow me, so we can at least pretend you know how to behave yourself,” David said wryly. “Calista, may I present to you my cousin, Lord Ezra Tilton. Ezra, Marianne’s cousin, Lady Calista Windon.”

Calista saw a spark of recognition in Lord Tilton’s grey eyes. “Lady Calista, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He bowed over her hand, every inch the polished gentleman. “You are as lovely as David said you would be,” he continued while her skin tingled from even that briefest of touches. “And now that we’re both to be guests here for Christmastide, I look forward to getting to know you better.”