without your permission? We must obey you in every detail of our lives?”
“Damn it, Callie, you know that is not the case!” Rochford burst out, scowling.
“No? That is all you have done for the last hour—order me about.”
“Callie!” The duchess looked from one to the other, astonished. “Rochford! What is this about? What has happened?”
“It is nothing to be concerned about,” Rochford told her shortly.
“No, nothing except that my brother has suddenly become a tyrant,” Callie lashed out.
Rochford sighed and ran his hand back through his dark hair. “The devil take it, Callie, you know I am not a tyrant. When have I ever been?”
“Never until now,” she retorted, blinking away the tears that filled her eyes.
It was, indeed, Rochford’s past history of kindness and laxity that made his present actions so much harder to bear. He had always been the most loving and easygoing of brothers, and she had treasured their relationship all the more whenever she heard other girls talk about their brothers or fathers, who issued orders and expected obedience.
“I am sorry, Callie, if I offended you tonight,” he said stiffly, with an expression of patience and reasonableness that only served to grate on his sister’s nerves. “I apologize if I was too abrupt.”
“Abrupt?” She let out a short, unamused laugh. “Is that what you call your behavior this evening? Abrupt? I would have called it high-handed. Or perhaps dictatorial.”
The duke grimaced. “I can see that you have taken it amiss, but I must remind you that I am here to protect you. I am your brother. It is my responsibility to take care of you.”
“I am not a child anymore!” Callie exclaimed. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“Not that I can see,” he snapped back. “Given that I found you alone in the garden with a strange man.”
The duchess sucked in a shocked breath. “No! Callie!”
Callie flushed. “I was not in the garden. We were on the terrace, and there was nothing wrong. Bromwell was a perfect gentleman. Indeed, he helped me. He sent another fellow on his way who had not been a gentleman at all.”
“Oh!” Callie’s grandmother raised a hand to her heart, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. “Callie! You were alone with two different men in the garden?”
“It wasn’t the garden!”
“That makes little difference,” Rochford replied.
“I may faint,” the duchess said weakly, but, of course, she did not. Instead, she marched forward a few steps so that she stood right below Callie, between her and her brother.
“I cannot believe what I have heard,” she told Callie. “How could you have done something so scandalous? Have you no care for me? For your family? Sinclair is right. Of course he has responsibility for you. He is your brother and the head of this family. He has every right to tell you what you should do, and you should do as he says. What possessed you to go out onto the terrace with a man tonight? What if someone had seen you? You should be grateful that your brother was there to rescue you. I shudder to think what might have happened if he had not been.”
“Nothing would have happened. I told you, I was perfectly all right. I did not create a scandal,” Callie replied, color flaming on her cheeks.
“Until you are married and have a home of your own, you are under your brother’s control,” the duchess said flatly.
“And then I will be under my husband’s control!” Callie tossed back hotly.
“Now you sound like Irene Wyngate.”
“There is nothing wrong with Irene,” Callie replied. “I would be glad to be like Irene. At least she has a spine, unlike most of the women I know.”
“Grandmother, please…” Rochford said, knowing full well that the duchess was not helping his case with Callie.
“At any rate, it does not matter, as I will never be married as long as my brother treats my suitors like criminals,” Callie went on angrily.
Rochford let out a humorless bark of laughter. “Bromwell will never be your suitor.”
“I am sure not,” Callie responded, “now that you have humiliated me in front of him.”
“Bromwell?” The duchess asked, looking startled. “The Earl of Bromwell?”
“Yes.”
Their grandmother’s eyes lit with interest, but before she could speak, Callie went on, “What is wrong with Lord Bromwell? Why is it so terrible that I was with him?”
“You should not be on the terrace alone with any man,” Rochford answered.
“But why did you say that he would never be my suitor?” Callie pursued. “Why did you say, ‘You!’ the way you did when you saw him? Why is he so particularly unsuitable?”
Rochford said nothing for a long moment, then shrugged. “The man is not a friend to me.”
“What?” Callie’s brows sailed upward. “He is not your friend? I cannot marry someone unless he is your friend? Who would you have me marry? One of your stuffy old scholarly friends? Mr. Strethwick, perhaps? Or maybe Sir Oliver?”
“Blast it, Callie, you know that is not what I meant,” Rochford ground out. “You do not have to marry one of my friends. You know that.”
“No, I don’t know!” she shot back. “Right now, I feel as if I hardly know you at all. I would never have thought you could be so domineering, so careless of my wishes or feelings.”
“Careless?” he repeated in an astounded voice. “It is precisely because I do care for you.”
“Why? What makes the man unsuitable?” Callie asked. “Is his family not good enough? His rank not high enough?”
“No, of course not. He is an earl.”
“Then is he a fortune hunter? Is he after my money?”
“No. He is quite wealthy, as far as I have heard.” Rochford’s mouth tightened in irritation.
“The Earl of Bromwell is considered quite a catch,” the duchess put in. “Of course, he is not a duke, but there are so few of them, after all. And one could not want you to marry one of the royals. An earl would do quite well for you, really, and the family is an old and distinguished one.” She turned toward her grandson. “Are they not related to Lady Odelia somehow?”
“Yes, distantly,” Rochford agreed. “The problem is not his pedigree.”
“Then what is the problem?” Callie persisted.
The duke looked from his sister to his grandmother. Finally he said, “It is an old matter.
