Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray

by Janice Preston

  ‘Not silly at all. That way he cannot be stolen.’

  ‘But Lord Kilburn caught him, you said.’

  ‘He was on horseback and there were two of them. Titan isn’t built for speed.’

  ‘No. He’s built for mischief.’

  Zach’s grin widened.

  Cecily stuck her nose in the air. ‘I have caught him now, at least.’

  ‘He only allowed you to do so because he is in camp.’

  ‘Hmmph.’

  She swept her hat from her head and again fanned her face, conscious of her sweat-damp skin. No doubt she was brick red, too. What a sight she must look. She jammed her hat back on her head, pulling the brim down over her forehead to shield her face from the ferocious glare of the sun. Before worrying about her appearance, she must deal with Titan.

  ‘I shall have to tie him more securely. I do not know how he got free this time.’ She looked across at the sapling she had tied him to. ‘Oh.’ The slender young tree had been near uprooted and half the leaves stripped off.

  A muffled snort reached her ears. A glance at Zach revealed merry eyes above a mouth that quivered. Dratted man. Laughing at her. She’d done her best. She glared at him, but then started forward as he pushed himself to his feet.

  ‘No, Zach!’ He swayed precariously as soon as he was upright, propping his other hand against the tree trunk as Cecily grasped his arm. ‘You must not! You will—’

  ‘Yes. I must.’ The words were gritted out as he removed the lead rope from her hand. ‘I have to make sure he is secure.’ He paused, grimacing, then added, ‘Did anyone see him?’

  ‘Please. Sit down.’ She tugged at his arm, but he snatched it away. ‘Zach, please. You are ill. I will make sure he is tied properly this time, I promise.’

  A low growl vibrated in his throat. ‘Like you did last time, Lady Perfect?’

  ‘I did my best.’ There was no need for him to snap at her. ‘It is not my fault your horse is such a brute. Look what he did to that poor tree.’

  She glared at Zach, then hesitated, feeling a frown gather on her forehead as she recognised the worry in his dark eyes. She touched his hand. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You did not answer me. Did anyone see Titan?’

  ‘I do not believe so. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I cannot risk losing him.’

  ‘I know, but I am sure he would not stray too far. You will not lose him.’ She tried a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. ‘Sancho can always summon him home.’

  He huffed a bitter laugh. ‘It is not the straying that worries me. Landowners have a habit of objecting to Romany animals grazing on their land.’

  ‘But...Lord Kilburn would not deprive you of your horse. He might be angry, but—’

  ‘Nevertheless, I shall stake him this time.’

  Zach pushed away from the tree and crossed the camp, supporting himself by clutching a handful of Titan’s mane. Cecily watched him pause by the wagon and pick up a stake and a mallet, fighting the impulse to rush to his side and to support his slow steps, instinctively knowing he would spurn any further offer of help.

  ‘He is proud, that one,’ Anna said from her seat by the fire, where she was tending a pot of chicken broth, prepared by the cook at the Grange to tempt Cecily’s fictitious loss of appetite.

  Cecily watched as Zach—his grimace showing the effort it cost him—slowly hammered the stake into the ground. ‘He is.’ She glanced up at the sky. It must be late afternoon. ‘We should return to the Grange, Anna. Mr Gray appears much improved and we must not linger.’

  Anna got to her feet. ‘I’ll fetch more water before we go, milady. That should see them through the night.’ She cast a scathing look at Titan. ‘That monster sinks half a bucket in one mouthful.’

  Cecily waited until Zach had finished securing the horse. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his face grey with exhaustion and it was a sign of how weak he felt that he allowed her to support him back to the shade of the tree without protest.

  ‘You have not yet taken your rhubarb-root remedy,’ she scolded.

  A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. ‘Nor will I, not while you are here to see the effect it will have.’

  ‘Oh! I... Yes, of course. It is a purgative, then?’ She felt her cheeks heat. ‘Yes. I see.’

  He closed his eyes then and she sat next to him and stroked his hand until Anna returned with the water, placing one bucket within Titan’s reach.

  ‘Zach, we must go now.’

  He opened his eyes.

  ‘Is there anything else we can do?’

  ‘No.’ He tipped his head back against the trunk and sighed. ‘Thank you, Lady Perfect.’ His ebony eyes roamed her face and she had to fight the instinct to tidy her hair. ‘I mean it... I don’t know what I would have done without you.’ He closed his fingers around her hand and squeezed gently.

  ‘Should I come back later to check on you?’

  ‘No. You have risked enough.’

  ‘Promise me you will take that remedy.’

  ‘I promise. The sickness has passed so I should keep it down.’

  ‘We shall return tomorrow to see how you fare.’

  She could not resist pressing her lips to his forehead before regaining her feet.

  Anna argued with her all the way back to the Grange, but Cecily would not give way. She would not be easy until she was certain Zach was fully recovered and, no matter the risk, she would return to the camp in the morning.

  Chapter Twelve

  The subterfuge continued and the following morning, once breakfast was cleared and Aunt Drusilla and Miss Fussell were settled in the morning room, Cecily and Anna managed to slip unnoticed down the main stairs and out through the side door, across the lawns and into the shelter of the nearby belt of trees. Anna carried a basket of provisions for Zach, even though she made no secret of her disapproval of all these shenanigans, as she put it. Cecily only listened with half an ear, knowing that, beneath her bluster, Anna was desperately worried about this unusual behaviour in her mistress. As was Cecily, if the truth be known. Common sense—not to mention her upbringing and the knowledge of the correct conduct expected of a lady—warned her she should allow Anna to visit Zach and report back. But she could not. She had to see him. She needed that reassurance.

  The fire was burning under a pan of water when they arrived at the camp and Zach was seated nearby—in the shade, she was pleased to see. His smile, when he saw her, squeezed her chest until she felt she could not breathe. How had he become so very important to her in such a short time?

  ‘Good morning, Zach.’ She had given up calling him Mr Gray in Anna’s presence. Let her maid make of that what she pleased. ‘How do you feel today?’

  ‘Much better. Thank you.’

  She put her hand to his forehead—no heat, no fever. She could breathe again.

  ‘What can we do to help?’

  ‘Nothing. I can manage.’ Stubbornness swirled in his dark eyes.

  Cecily canted her head and raised her brows. She was rewarded by a reluctant smile.

  ‘I have not recovered my full strength yet, so the food you bring is welcome. Thank you.’

  Cecily left him and inspected the camp. There was little water left and she saw that Titan was still tethered in the same spot as yesterday. He and Sancho dozed nose to tail in the sunshine. Myrtle—panting hopefully—sat at Anna’s feet as she unloaded her basket on the cart bed.

  ‘Anna will fetch more water directly and I shall help you move Titan to a fresh patch of grass.’

  ‘No.’ Zach pushed himself to his feet. ‘I managed him yesterday. I shall do so today.’

  He reached for Cecily’s right hand and, before she realised his intention, he stripped off her glove and examined her palm. Her stomach turned a slow somersault as his thumb stroked along the base of her fingers, where two blisters had developed.

  ‘I thought as much.’ His voice was gravelly. ‘You should not have—’

  She snat
ched her hand from his and placed her fingertips to his lips, silencing him. ‘Should not have what? Helped you when you were in need? Do not say that to me, Zach. I wanted to help and, if ever you have need in the future, I will help you again. Please remember that.’

  ‘Obstinate woman.’ The smile in his eyes belied his words. ‘Now, I must move Titan. I was about to do so when you arrived.’ She started to follow him, to help, but he stopped her. ‘No. I can do it.’ His lips quirked into a quick smile. ‘A bit slower than normal, but I can do it.’

  ‘Very well.’ Instead, she went to the fire and fed more wood on to it. She would make coffee. They had brought some ground beans with them.

  ‘Cecily?’ She jumped, startled by the angry exclamation. ‘What the d—! What are you doing here? I understood you to be indisposed.’

  Her heart rocketed, then thumped tangibly in her chest as she identified that voice. She hauled in a deep breath, straightened, smoothed her palms down her skirts, rolled back her shoulders and turned to face Lord Kilburn. He bowed, even though his expression was thunderous and, biting back a sudden urge to giggle, Cecily bobbed a curtsy in reply. How ludicrous to observe the niceties like this, especially when the man looked about to rip up at her. She squared her shoulders.

  ‘Good morning, my lord. I apologise. You have caught me out in my white lie.’

  ‘What are you doing here, in a gipsy camp?’

  His lip curled in a sneer and Cecily’s fingers clenched involuntarily into a fist even as she cautioned herself to take care. Zach, for whatever reason, did not wish to be recognised and it did not bear thinking about the consequences should Kilburn suspect her interest in Zach was anything other than purely altruistic.

  ‘Mr Gray has been very ill.’ She indicated Zach, who had just pushed Titan’s stake into the ground and was watching with narrowed eyes. She was relieved to see that Sancho had wandered off and was nowhere to be seen—at least seeing him wouldn’t remind Kilburn of her agitation the other day at the sound of a donkey. ‘My maid and I have come to assist.’

  ‘Ill?’ Kilburn was across the campsite in three paces. He grasped Cecily’s arm, his fingers biting into her soft flesh. ‘And what concern is that of yours? He is a dirty, common gipsy—you should have nothing to do with him.’

  Cecily tried to free her arm, but he tightened his grip.

  ‘My lord! Unhand me this instant.’

  * * *

  Rage lent him strength. Zach strode over to where Kilburn held the struggling Cecily and wrenched the other man’s fingers open. The Earl was no match for him, even in his weakened state. He thrust his face into Kilburn’s, even as a corner of his mind screamed caution.

  ‘You heard the lady,’ he snarled. ‘Take your hands off her.’

  Kilburn’s face mottled with rage. ‘I’ll have you horsewhipped, you damned scoundrel,’ he spat. ‘You dare to touch me? Touch a lady?’

  He barged Zach aside with his shoulder. Taken by surprise, Zach staggered back several paces, but managed to stay on his feet. He hauled in a deep breath, and another, filling his lungs with fresh air, willing his temper under control and his mind to stay sharp.

  ‘Come, Cecily.’

  Kilburn placed his hand at the small of Cecily’s back, turning her, and then it slid lower, to rest on her bottom, as he steered her out of the camp. Black rage swirled through Zach at the sight of the man daring to touch her with such an intimate gesture, but he stayed back in response to Cecily’s silently mouthed No as she shot a quick glance over her shoulder. Remaining a bystander went against every instinct he possessed, but he accepted now was not the time for a confrontation. For Cecily’s sake, he could not risk Kilburn believing there was anything more than compassion to account for her presence here.

  ‘I shall escort you home to the Grange and you may explain to me and to your aunt precisely what you think you are about—’

  Cecily slammed to a halt. She sidestepped, away from Kilburn’s hand, and drew herself up to her full height. Zach could not tear his eyes from her. She was magnificent. He might have known she would not need his help.

  ‘How dare you?’ Her tone was icy, her eyes flashed and two angry spots of colour highlighted her cheeks. She was every inch the Duke’s daughter, as haughty as though she stood in the middle of a society ballroom rather than in a Romany camp. ‘I have no obligation to explain myself to you or, indeed, to my aunt and you have no right to assume authority over me, sir.’

  She gestured to Anna, standing open-mouthed by the cart. ‘Please go and fetch some more water for Mr Gray, Anna. Another two buckets should be sufficient to see him through until this afternoon.’

  Anna, reluctance in every line of her body, left the camp. Cecily turned her back on a clearly shocked Kilburn and returned to Zach, smiling.

  ‘Now, Mr Gray, you must not overtax your strength.’ She urged him under the shade of the oak. ‘Please oblige me by sitting down and staying out of the sun.’ Then she added a hastily whispered, ‘Please do not intervene and risk recognition. I can manage him.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Zach saw Kilburn approach.

  ‘Take care,’ he muttered, then continued at normal volume, ‘Thank you, my lady. I promise I will rest soon, but first I must tether my horse securely.’

  ‘And that is why I have come,’ Kilburn growled. ‘That animal was seen on my land again yesterday, despite my warning to you. My men now have orders to shoot him on sight.’

  Cecily rounded on him. ‘My lord, such unpleasantness is uncalled for.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Again, my lady,’ he said in a soft voice, ‘what is this heathen to you? Why are you here? This is conduct unbefitting a lady. I am surprised at you.’

  Zach stiffened, but by the slightest movement of her hand, Cecily stayed him.

  ‘Mr Gray happens to be a friend of my brother’s. How could I leave him to struggle alone when he was so ill?’

  ‘Your brother?’ Scorn sharpened his tone. ‘And which brother might that be? The Duke? You expect me to believe he would countenance his sister associating with a vagabond?’

  ‘As it happens, Mr Gray is a friend of my other brother.’

  ‘I might have—’

  ‘Although—’ and it was a miracle her icy tone did not freeze Kilburn solid as she faced him down ‘—you should be aware that it was his Grace who introduced us, at Vernon’s recent wedding.’

  Kilburn appeared somewhat nonplussed by that titbit of information and admiration for Cecily filled Zach as she proceeded to take full advantage.

  ‘It was my fault the horse broke free. And perhaps, my Lord Kilburn, as you are so concerned about him, you might finish hammering in that stake?’ She indicated Titan, standing docilely where Zach had pushed his stake into the ground. ‘Then if he strays you can blame no one but yourself.’

  Kilburn scowled and Zach held his breath, praying the other man wouldn’t question why Zach had turned up here, in the same place as Cecily, so soon after having met her at Vernon’s wedding.

  ‘Very well,’ Kilburn said. ‘But, once he is secure, I shall escort you to back to the Grange. You must see it is entirely inappropriate for you to be here with a gipsy, whether or not he is your brother’s friend.’

  He stalked across camp to Titan and picked up the discarded mallet.

  ‘He’s right, my lady.’ Zach was eager now for the man to leave his camp, for how long would it be before something triggered Kilburn’s memory and he recognised Zach as the youth he had known? ‘With the water Anna brings, I can manage without further help. Thank you. For everything.’

  ‘Very well.’ Cecily’s green eyes clung to his. ‘We will bring further provisions tomorrow, however, if only for the reassurance you have fully recovered.’ She smiled. ‘Would you tell Anna to follow us to the Grange when she returns with the water, please?’

  Her lashes swept down, veiling the raw longing in her gaze. That glimpse of her true feelings fired his blood and he could not stop imagining t
he two of them. Together. He yearned to kiss the satin-soft skin of her neck—to feel her pulse leap under his tongue—to kiss her soft, succulent lips until she throbbed with desire. Any more than that—he swallowed a self-deprecating laugh. He was not a man to indulge in fantasies—and yet here he was, fantasising about making love to Cecily—Lady Perfect, a duke’s sister—and teasing out the passion he knew simmered deep inside her and showing her the pleasure life had to offer. But a fantasy it was. An impossible fantasy.

  Or...was it?

  He stared at Kilburn’s hawkish profile and whip-lean frame as he wielded the mallet. He had told himself he had come to Oxfordshire to stop Cecily throwing herself away on such a cold, heartless bastard—after all, who knew better than he what Kilburn was capable of, beneath the civilised veneer he presented to his peers? Deep down, though, he knew he had hoped to find a way for them to be together.

  If he followed his heart, he would fight for her, even though he had so little to offer. He was unlikely to ever be accepted in society with his mixed blood—unless by some miracle her brother championed their cause—but might Cecily accept him?

  Kilburn had finished. He flung the mallet on the ground, stalked back across camp to Cecily and, without so much as a glance at Zach, he took her by the elbow and propelled her towards the road, collecting his horse on the way. Cecily submitted to him, but Zach could read her outrage in every line of her body. He settled down in the shade, leant back against the trunk of the oak and brooded. Was what he longed for even feasible? A woman—a lady—like Cecily could never embrace this life he had chosen. But the alternative was unappealing. To him. He had chosen his Romany heritage above that of his father. It was simple. And honest.

  And tough, a voice whispered in his head. Too tough for a woman raised in a duke’s household.

  The clank of a bucket caught his attention and he looked up as Anna returned with the water. She put down the buckets and walked over to stand over Zach, her hands planted on her hips.

  ‘Lady Cecily has gone with Lord Kilburn,’ Zach said. ‘She said for you to follow them back to the Grange.’