selfish for dominating the conversation with her own troubles and feelings. After all, she had meant to visit her friend, not to fret over the budding feelings bursting to life in her treacherous heart. Surely they could be tempered, no? “I came here to visit you, and that is all. I missed you, dear friend. Forgive me for being so serious and weighing down our visit with this nonsense. You must forget it all. I fear becoming a married woman has addled my wits. Let us speak of something else, anything else!”
“I missed you as well.” Jo grinned then. “You must tell me what the marriage bed is like, Callie. No one will tell me anything. I swear I shall die a spinster wallflower without ever having even been kissed.”
It astounded Callie to think her friend had never been swept into a darkened alcove by a handsome lord and kissed senseless. Jo was uniquely beautiful, sweet, smart, and wittier than anyone Callie knew. She could only suppose it was fear of Jo’s brother, the Earl of Ravenscroft, which kept suitors at bay. That and Jo’s own retiring nature whenever she found herself in large gatherings of people.
“You will not die a spinster wallflower, never having been kissed,” Callie denied. “I promise you that, Jo.”
Her friend sighed. “Sometimes, it feels as if I will. I have begun a list, you know, of all the things I want to experience in my life. I have grown quite tired of watching everyone I love go on with their lives while I remain here, the same as I ever was.”
Callie felt a pang of guilt all over again. “I have not gone on with my life, dear heart. You will forever be my dearest friend, and you know it. Time, marriages, titles, nothing matters. You are the sister I never had.”
“But you have a sister now,” Jo pointed out, quite correctly.
“Yes, but she cannot replace you,” Callie said soothingly, taking a sip of her own tea at last only to find that it was disgustingly tepid. “No one can replace you, Jo. I have Isabella, and I have you.”
“And your wickedly handsome husband who makes you smile like a besotted fool,” her friend added.
Jo’s grumbling told Callie that perhaps her friend was, at last, ready to relinquish her role as wallflower and seize her life. “No one said you cannot find a handsome husband of your own who also makes you smile like a besotted fool.”
Jo sighed. “I shall have to live vicariously through you, I am afraid. There is no such handsome gentleman forthcoming. All the lords I know are empty-headed and weak-hearted and dreadfully uninteresting. Not all of us can be carried off by an earl named Sin, you know.”
Callie smiled at her friend’s sally. “I should hope not. If he is off abducting others, I will box his ears.”
Jo took another sip of her own tea, wrinkling her nose. “This is wretched, is it not? Forgive me, darling, I will ring for a fresh pot. One that does not leak.”
The teapot had, indeed, leaked. It had rendered Jo’s pouring quite humorous. The two of them had collapsed into a fit of giggles over it.
“Fresh tea would be wonderful,” Callie agreed. “Now tell me about this list of yours, if you please. I cannot wait to hear what is on it…”
His wife had been gone for—Sin checked his pocket watch—three hours.
Precisely.
He paced the length of his study, newly refurbished with fresh, plush Axminster. All the way to the door. He threw it open.
“Langdon!” he bellowed.
“My lord? How may I be of service?”
As if conjured, Dunlop, the younger domestic Langdon had been tasked with training in the role of butler, appeared. He was far too handsome for Sin’s liking. Callie had chosen him, and Sin had eagerly foisted all the duties concerning the household off upon her. But now, he found himself regretting his decision. For Dunlop was too young as well. Sandy haired and blue eyed, with a mild manner and an easy disposition that made Sin instantly suspicious of him.
“I called for Langdon,” he snapped at the butler-in-training. “Where is he?”
“He is having a nap with Eloise,” Dunlop explained, his voice calm and tranquil, as if he were dealing with a recalcitrant child. “How may I help you, my lord?”
He did not want to ask this whelp for anything. Indeed, as Sin looked upon him now, he feared the blasted fellow was too pleasing of face and form. There was no