I . . . hit him . . . elsewhere.” “Where?” “In his . . .In his inguine.” “Oh, dear God.” It was unclear whether Ralston’s words were meant as prayer or blasphemy. What was clear was that the woman was a gladiator. “He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.” “A tart?” “Yes! That’s it!” She registered her brother’s fists and looked to Simon. “I see that it is not a compliment.” “No. It is not.
Ralston didn't care. He turned on his brother as the surgeon knelt next to him and inspected the wound. "She could have been killed!" And what about you?" This time, it was Callie who spoke, her own pent-up energy releasing in anger, and the men turned as one to look at her, surprised that she and found her voice. "What about you and your idiotic pland to somehow restore my honor by playing guns out in the middle of nowhere with OXFORD?" She said the baron's name in disdain. "Like children? Of all the ridiculous, unnecessary, thoughtless, MALE things to do...who even FIGHTS duels anymore?!
Yes, she was a scandal. Her brother simply didn’t know it. “I fell in the Serpentine today.” “Yes, well, that doesn’t usually happen to women in London. But it’s not so much of a scandal as it is a challenge.
She can't force us to go to the ball. We're grown men, for Lord's sake!" Will cocked an eyebrow at his younger brother. "You don't think she can force us? We are speaking of the same mother, correct? Small frame, enormous will?
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