“Pride?”

He nodded. “Male pride.”

Callie shook her head. “Your gender is utterly bizarre.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But that doesn’t mean he loves me. I am not sure he cares for me at all.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Benedick waited for her to look at him. “I would like nothing more than for you and Ralston never to see each other again, Callie, with the level of scandal that the two of you created tonight—and that’s not even considering the countless other scandals that you’ve most definitely orchestrated outside of my knowing—not that I ever want to know about them.” He paused. “However, you forget that I saw him last night. He came to me before he went to you in the library. He cares for you. I know it, or I never would have given him my blessing.”

“You’re wrong,” Callie whispered. “I thought I could love him enough for both of us. But I cannot.”

Silence fell between them, and Benedick watched as tears stained his sister’s cheeks. Finally, he spoke. “Callie…Ralston called Oxford out tonight.”

Callie’s head snapped up. She was certain that she had misunderstood her brother, “I—I beg your pardon?”

“He’s challenged Oxford to a duel.”

Callie shook her head, attempting to clear it of the fog that had just come over her. “No. It can’t be true. Are you sure it was he? And not St. John? They are twins, you know. It can be confusing.”

“Yes, Callie. I am aware that they are twins. I am also quite certain that the dueling parties are Ralston and Oxford, as I witnessed the whole thing. And, considering the duel is over you…”

“Me?” Callie squeaked. “Ralston would never duel over me. I’m not worth risking his life. I mean, it’s not as if he loves me, Benedick,” she scoffed, meeting his concerned gaze. Benedick remained silent as she considered the words. “Oh, my God.”

“He may not love you, Callie. But I’d wager he feels something rather impressive for you, or he and Oxford would not be choosing their seconds as we speak.”

He was risking everything for her.

If that was not change, what was?

Callie’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God.” She leaned toward him, reaching across the desktop to grab his arm. “Benedick, you have to take me there.”

“Callie…” Benedick shook his head. “I cannot take you there. You know that.”

She shot up from her chair, announcing, “Benedick! He could die!” And she went tearing out of the room, up the wide center staircase and back into her bedchamber, Benedick hot on her heels. She threw open her door with a crash and rushed to her armoire to retrieve a dress from inside. “He could be killed!” she cried.

Benedick closed the door behind him, attempting to keep Callie calm with a soft, steady tone. “He won’t be killed, Callie. Duels rarely go that route anymore.”

She turned to him, arms laden with muslin. “Am I mistaken in how they operate, Benedick? Twenty paces, turn, and fire? A pistol? A loaded pistol?”

“Well, yes,” Benedick conceded the point, adding, “But death is not usually the expected outcome. I mean, one could go to prison for killing someone in a duel, for heaven’s sake.”

“Ah, so it’s a sort of gentlemen’s agreement?”

“Exactly.”

“Really more for show than for purpose.”

“Quite,” he said, pleased that she understood.

Her eyes narrowed on him. “And, what if one of the gentlemen in question is a poor shot?”

Benedick’s mouth opened, then closed.

Callie shook her head and moved behind her dressing screen. “You’re taking me.”

Her nightgown was almost immediately tossed over the top of the screen. Benedick threw up his hands at the indignity of the moment and turned his back to the general area. “I am not taking you, Callie. You shall wait here, as women do.”

“I most certainly shall not! I am no longer meek and biddable!”

“You labor under the misconception that you were ever meek and biddable!”

Benedick turned to find Callie dressed and yanking on a pair of walking boots. Her eyes flashed. “You have two options, Benedick. You may escort me like a good brother, or you may stand aside as I leave this house and travel through London in the dead of night by myself.”

“You’ll never find it.”

“Nonsense. You forget I am well acquainted with a public house or two in this city. I’m sure news of a duel involving one of London’s best-known aristocrats travels fast.”

His eyes widened. “I shall lock you in!”

“Then I shall climb down the trellis!” she announced.

“Damn it, Callie!”

“Benedick, I love him! I’ve loved him for a decade. And I had him for one day before I made a complete and utter mess of things. Or he did. I’m still not sure about that. But you cannot really believe I won’t fight to save him?”

The words hung between them as brother and sister faced off.

“Please, Benny,” she said softly, plaintively. “I love him.”

The Earl of Allendale gave a long sigh.

“Lord, deliver me from sisters. I shall call for the curricle.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nick leaned against a lone rowan tree, hunching his shoulders against the cold morning mist and watching as Ralston checked his pistol. “You could be killed.”

“I shan’t be killed,” Ralston said distractedly, looking across the wide expanse of field that Oxford had chosen as the location for their duel.