Page 231 of Desires of a Duke Collection

When the study door opened to reveal Calli standing there, at first Jonathan’s heart leapt, as it always did when he saw her.

But his gut told him something was wrong before his mind caught up.

First, there was her bag sitting outside his study door.

Then, there were her brothers standing behind her.

And in their hands, a rolled-up canvas.

Finally, what should have told him everything, Calli’s face — stricken, panicked.

“Calli,” he said, hearing the ice dripping off her name as, after his perusal of the room, his gaze returned to her. “Have I interrupted something?”

“It’s not what you think,” she said, holding up her hands. “Xander and Arie were… helping me when I thought that you no longer wanted my… services.”

“Helping you,” he repeated incredulously. “Because your little bag and one painting were far too heavy for you?”

She looked at her brothers and then back at him, but before she could say anything, her brother answered for her.

“We were just going, Hargreave,” Arie said. “We wanted to check on Calli, that’s all. Heard you had been a bit hard on her.”

“Hard on her? For lying to me?” Jonathan asked, the thick metal chain tightening within him like a vise. “I don’t even know your true name. It certainly isn’t Donahue, and Calli tells me it isn’t the same as hers.”

As her brother’s eyes darkened and narrowed, Jonathan looked to Calli, whose eyes widened — in a bit of fear, he realized.

“I’m not sure what my sister told you,” Arie bit out, “but I can assure you that there is always one thing that is of my first interest, and that is looking after my siblings. And right now, I don’t feel comfortable with my sister going anywhere with you.”

“Arie,” Calli said, turning around and standing up tall before her brother, “this is my decision.”

“And mine,” Jonathan cut in. “And before we go any further, I’d like to know just what exactly you are planning to do with that canvas.”

He looked to the wall where his painting hung, wondering if he was seeing things, or if it was hanging slightly ajar.

“I told you, Jonathan, it’s not what you think,” Calli repeated, and he looked to her.

“Just what do you suppose I am thinking? That, perhaps, you recreated a painting in order to switch it with mine, to steal a priceless work? Is that, maybe, what I am thinking?”

“Jonathan,” she said desperately, “can I speak to you alone? My brothers were just leaving.”

“Not with that painting, they are not,” he said, pointing to the floor, ignoring Calli — and all of the feelings within him regarding her — for the moment. “Put it down. Now.”

“It’s nothing,” Arie said easily, “just Calli’s little re-creation. You told me yourself that you saw it.”

“I don’t give a damn what you say,” Jonathan seethed. “Leave the painting and get. Out. Now.”

“Not without our sister.”

“Jonathan—” Calli said, placing a hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

“Not a problem. Take her. She is no longer welcome in my home.”

“Jonathan, you don’t understand, please let me explain—”

He turned on her now, his voice rising as he spoke until it was nearly a roar.

“I have heard more than enough of your explanations. It is what I see in front of me that tells me more than anything else ever could. You will get out of my house this instant before I call the constable on the lot of you. Do you understand?”

“Please,” she whispered, her voice so at odds with his.

But Jonathan’d had enough. He couldn’t look at her anymore.

“Get out,” he said, opening the door. “Go through the servants’ entrance so that the children don’t see you. Thurston will see you out.” He nodded to his waiting butler, who always seemed to know exactly when he was needed. “And never come back.”

***

Calli refused to look at either of her brothers on the ride home.

Home. The place where she had spent most of her life. A place that should be comfortable. So why was she dreading returning to it?

She could feel the ice seeping off Arie from across the carriage. She was well aware that he was displeased, although at least he was holding off his lecture until they arrived.

When he would likely deliver it in front of the entire family.

“Calli?”

She lifted her head as Xander placed a hand on her knee.

“Are you all right?” he asked her again, softly.

“No,” she said, and while no tears had fallen, kept inside so that Arie wouldn’t ridicule her any more than he already had, within her, she was weeping a waterfall. “I am not all right. And nor will I be.”

Arie snorted but said nothing as he stared out the window with arms crossed, while Xander looked at her with concern, scratching his head.

“Maybe Diana will know what to do.”

“None of you can help me,” Calli said bitterly. “You’ve done more than enough.”

They sat in silence for the remainder of the ride, as London turned from the tall imposing brick townhouses of Mayfair to the narrow streets of falling down buildings in St. Giles. Eventually they pulled up in front of the house.

“We will convene in an hour,” Arie said, his words clipped as he stepped down from the carriage. “Have yourself ready by then.”

Xander held out a hand to help her down, and Calli slowly followed the two of them into the house, her bag swinging against her skirts as she dragged her feet going up the walk.

She didn’t feel like facing her family. She didn’t feel like discussing everything that had happened. And she most certainly was going to refuse to say anything about Jonathan.

He was unyielding, she realized that. She had known early on that he was not a man who would easily forgive, if he ever would at all.

She just hadn’t realized how irate he would be, to the point that he wouldn’t even let her explain. He would never consider anything further with her, she knew that — but at least he would know the truth of what she had done and that, in the end, she could never truly betray him.

As she had her family.

She could never let them know.

Despite her reluctance, an hour later she was seated among her four siblings, as they all sat staring at her with expressions that varied from pity to contempt.

She took the space in the corner of the sofa, hoping that it would swallow her up and she could remain hidden from the rest of them.

Arie stood at the front of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at each of them in turn until his gaze settled on Calli, where it remained.

“As you all know,” he began, slowly pacing a few steps back and forth each way as he spoke, “Calli recently undertook her own little… escapade.”

He made it sound as though everything that had happened to her was a child’s game.

“The initial plan was simple. She was to attend a party held at the duke’s townhouse, create a sketch of a painting, noting any necessary details, and then return home to complete the painting. Xander and I were then going to break in and switch the two. No one would ever be the wiser, and we would be able to sell it to a buyer that was already arranged.”

Calli couldn’t look at him anymore, as she tucked her knees up underneath her chin, hugging her legs against herself.

“However, Calli allowed herself to be caught in the study. By children,” he said so contemptuously that Calli couldn’t help but lift her gaze and glare at him. She had always loved Arie. He was a harsh man, as inflexible as Jonathan, but he loved them in his own way. At the moment, however, she hated him.

“She was mistaken for the governess, a role she accepted, and told us all that she intended to take the time to ensure that her painting was perfect. Well, she was right. It was.”

His lips began to stretch into a slow, menacing smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But then, our Calli did the unthinkable. She fell in love.”

Calli pushed herself to her feet then, her hands coming to her hips indignantly, “I did not.”

“You didn’t?” He lifted a brow. “Or you just didn’t think I was aware?”

“How I feel or what I did are of no consequence. None at all. I did what you asked.”

“You did, but you fought me every step of the way,” Arie said, leaning back against the fireplace behind him as though her words and her ire did not affect him in the least. “You thought you had gotten away with it, but you didn’t, did you? Not only did you apparently share some of your true self with this duke, but for whatever reason, he seemed to think enough of you to return to London for you, inhibiting all of our plans and ensuring that not only do we not have the painting that we all worked so hard for, but he also has an idea of who we are. He may hate you now, but it never should have gotten to this point.”

“You’re right,” Calli said, angrier now than she had been when it had been Jonathan who was hurling insults upon her. For at least Jonathan had good reason to be upset with her. “I should have stopped this long ago. We had no reason to steal Jonathan’s painting. He did nothing to us, or to your people, Arie.”

“Although you did apparently locate one of the priceless artifacts that belonged to my people, and where is that, hmm?”

Calli narrowed her eyes at him.

“You want it so much? Do you? Very well.”

She stomped across the room, picking up her bag, taking the stolen figurine and tossing it to him. He gasped before catching it.

“Take it,” she said, waving in front of her, “but do not sell it. Give it back to whomever it belongs to. I will not make money off a stolen item.”

“It was originally stolen from Greece anyway.”

“I understand, Arie,” she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, “but it is not my place to decide whether my wrong is any worse than the original thievery. I’m done with this. All of this. I was only trying to make you happy, to pay you back. You never made me feel adequate enough to belong here.”

Even Arie looked slightly stunned at her outburst, as silence settled over the rest of the room. Calli swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to say such things, but it had all come pouring out before she could stop herself.

“Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to speak of this,” Arie murmured. “We can all meet again tomorrow.”

“No!” Calli exclaimed, shaking her head. “I will not meet with you again tomorrow nor the next day nor the day after that. I am done talking about this. I failed. You failed. This was all a mistake.”

A lump began to form in her throat as the tears threatened to fall, and she did everything in her power to hold them back.

“I’m sorry I don’t fit in this family. But now that we all know the truth, we can move on.”

With that, she whirled around and rushed up the stairs to her bedroom, where she slammed the door, knowing she was acting like a child but not at all caring. She finally gave herself over to the pain and let it all flow out in waves.