Chapter Thirteen #3
Instead he merely inclined his head to the shusher, then turned back to Calliope. ‘And then this will be over.’
That certainly caught her attention. ‘Over?’
‘Well, you will have no reason to associate with me, once the art competition is complete and the winner declared,’ Montague said slowly, hating the words even as he said them, but determined to see what reaction he gained from them. ‘We will probably not spend any time together.’
‘Not…not at all?’
He tried to sense the precise meaning from the few syllables Calliope uttered, her eyes wide and her expression…unreadable.
Was she disappointed? Frustrated, perhaps, that she would only have her aunt— Mrs Gower was a wonderful woman, Montague would be the first to admit, but to have only an aunt to converse with…
Did Calliope understand what she had done to him? How that singular kiss had somehow meant more to Montague than anything else ever had done? How she had somehow drawn out of him something that he could never have believed could be found within…the ability to care for a child?
Did she, in short, look disappointed because she would miss the flirtation? Because she would miss his company?
Or because she was starting to believe she could not live without him?
Montague hardly knew what he hoped for. All of them frightened him, prompted a response from him he hardly understood.
Calliope smiled briefly. ‘Yes, of course. I am sure you have plenty of other young ladies to entertain with your avarice and your incessant teasing.’
There was pain there, or envy, and Montague immediately regretted teasing her on this topic. ‘Calliope, I wouldn’t—’
‘There you are! We have had a wonderful time, have we not, John?’ beamed Calliope’s aunt as she and the boy approached them.
Montague tried to smile. His manhood was no longer stiff but his manners were, after the perhaps mutual misunderstand he had just experienced with Calliope.
Or was it a true misunderstanding at all?
Were they in fact fated to lose each other?
His reticence to bare his soul and her dislike for vulnerability combining to create an impossible chasm between them?
Even if he won the bet, and they wed, would she consider it a true marriage? One in which they would learn and love together? Or would she instead see the whole thing as a sham, a trick? Nothing but a formality?
Mrs Gower looked between them slowly, her smile fading. ‘I…we seem to have interrupted something important, I do apolo—’
‘No, no, not at all—’
‘Nothing to interrupt, Aunt,’ said Calliope cheerfully. Then she glared at Montague. ‘What do you mean, not at all?’
‘What do you mean, nothing to interrupt?’ Montague shot back hotly, but his periphery caught sight of a small boy looking up at him with a worried expression. ‘We’re not arguing, John,’ he said quietly. ‘Just a misunderstanding.’
‘That can happen with grown-ups,’ Calliope said tartly. ‘When one of them never says what he means.’
‘And the other never means what she says,’ Montague retorted, heat boiling within him. Of all the insensitive, maddening—
‘I hear you have a small wager going on your artistic skill,’ interrupted Mrs Gower with a sharp look at both him and Calliope. ‘When shall the winner be revealed?’
Montague tried to take long, deep breaths. There was no point in arguing with Calliope here. He would argue with her another time, when the boy was at his house and he had Calliope alone. When he could kiss her to stop her spouting such nonsense.
‘In a week,’ Calliope said brightly, as though she were the one who had decided on this. ‘We will hang up the two paintings here, if his lordship can arrange it, and then ask people to vote.’
‘Do I get a vote?’ asked John hopefully.
Montague grinned. ‘You get two votes.’
‘Montague—I mean, my lord!’ Now that was sufficient to get Calliope’s attention.
Trying not to look too smug, he continued, ‘And I am sure John will give both his votes to me.’
John looked serious, his brow furrowed. ‘I don’t know, Uncle Laidley. I don’t know what your persplective is like yet.’
It was most annoying, seeing Calliope trying desperately not to laugh and failing miserably.
Montague sniffed. ‘Yes, well. I suppose we shall have to find an unbiased adjudicator to be trusted with—’
‘That sounds like a job for myself,’ Mrs Gower said cheerfully.
‘I can use the back of my sketchbook. Oh, yes, I sketch,’ she said in answer to Montague’s obviously poorly hidden surprise.
‘All the ladies in the family sketch. You should see some of Ditty’s proposal plans, a sight to behold.
So, a week’s time, is it? That is when one of you will be forced to admit defeat? ’
Calliope’s gaze was burning when Montague looked over to her. This woman. This fiery, opinionated, yet gentle woman…admit defeat?
‘Never,’ she said with a smile that made Montague’s stomach lurch. ‘In one week, I shall be collecting my prize.’
‘So will I,’ Montague returned with a grin. ‘And I think I’m going to enjoy mine far more than you would enjoy yours.’