“Unlike an unmarried lady—the daughter of an earl—asking one of London’s most notorious rakes for a recommendation to a tavern. That, of course, is the very epitome of becoming.”

“When you put it that way—I can see how it might appear—problematic.”

“Might appear?” Benedick ran a hand through his hair again. “What would possess you? What on earth were you thinking? What on earth was he thinking?” He stopped, struck by a thought. “Good God, Callie. Was he improper? I shall have his head!”

“No!” She exclaimed, “No! I approached him!”

“To ask for a tavern recommendation.”

“Yes.”

“He shouldn’t have given it to you.”

“He thought it was for you.”

“For me?” Surprise and confusion laced his tone.

“Indeed. I couldn’t very well ask him for myself, could I?”

“Of course not.” Benedick looked at her as though she were mad. “Why the hell not drink here? What did you need a tavern for?”

“Well, for one thing,” Callie said matter-of-factly, “drinking here wouldn’t be nearly as much of an adventure.”

“An adventure.”

“Indeed.” She pressed on. “And, if you take a moment to consider it, it was really all your idea.”

“My idea?” Benedick began to turn red.

“Yes. Wasn’t it you who was encouraging me to experience life mere days ago?”

The words hung in the air as Benedick leveled his sister with his most incredulous look. “You are jesting.”

“Not at all. You started it. Categorically.” She smiled, rather pleased with herself.

Benedick looked to the ceiling as though begging for divine patience. Or for the Lord to strike his sister down. Callie couldn’t quite discern which. When he spoke, his tone brooked no discussion.

“Then allow me to finish it. Categorically. I am happy for you to pursue all the adventure you like. Here. In this house. Under this roof. Drink until you can no longer stand. Curse like a dockside sailor. Set your embroidery aflame, for God’s sake. But, as your elder brother, the head of the family, and the earl,” he stressed the last words, “I forbid you from frequenting taverns, public houses, or other establishments of vice.”

She snorted in amusement. “Establishments of vice? That’s a rather puritanical view of things, isn’t it? I assure you, I was quite safe.”

“You were with Ralston!” he said, as though she were simpleminded.

“He was perfectly respectable,” she said, the words coming out before she remembered that the carriage ride home was anything but respectable.

“Imagine—my sister and the Marquess of Ralston together. And he turns out to be the respectable one,” Benedick said wryly, sending heat flaring on Callie’s cheeks, but not for the reason he thought. “No more taverns.”

Callie considered her brother. She wouldn’t need a tavern again, of course. “No more taverns,” she agreed.

“If you want adventure, take it here.”

“Really?” She turned a hopeful smile on him.

“Oh, no. Now what?”

“I don’t suppose you would give me a cheroot.”

Benedick burst into incredulous laughter. “Not on your life, sister mine.”

“Benedick! You just said—”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Have I not done enough to convince you that, if you do not assist me in experiencing life, I shall find someone else to do so?”

Benedick’s eyes narrowed. “That is blackmail.”

“And that is your opinion.” She smiled broadly. “I think it would be a nice moment, a brother helping his old, spinster sister to have an adventure.”

“I think you hold rather too-high expectations of the experience of smoking.”

“Well, no time like the present to dash those expectations, don’t you think?” She paused, offering him a pleading look. “Please? I’ve never even seen someone smoke.”

“As well you shouldn’t have!” Benedick argued imperiously, “A gentleman does not smoke in the presence of ladies.”

“But I’m your sister!”

“Nonetheless.”

“Benny…” she said, using his nickname from their childhood, “No one will ever know. You said I could have adventure inside the house!”

He watched her, not speaking, for several minutes, until she was entirely certain that she was not going to smoke a cheroot that evening. Just as she was about to stand and make her exit from the room, he heaved an enormous sigh. Hearing it, Callie’s face broke into a grin.

She had won.

She clapped her hands in excitement. “Excellent!”

“I shouldn’t push my luck if I were you,” Benedick said with warning as he reached into his breast pocket and removed a thin silver rectangle. Setting the box on the table next to his chair, he threw a catch on its underside, revealing a hidden drawer.

Callie sat forward with a gasp as the drawer came into view, craning to see. “I never knew!”

Benedick withdrew a small crystal ashtray, a tinderbox, and bundle of wooden matches. “Again, as well you shouldn’t have. I’m rather certain I shall regret showing you in the morning.”

Callie watched, fascinated, as Benedick opened the silver box and removed two long, slender brown cheroots. Putting one to his lips, he inserted the match into the tinderbox, lit the small stick of wood, and lifted the flame, producing a cloud of smoke.