Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray

by Janice Preston

  Surely, this would afford her sufficient breathing space to put Zach behind her and to get accustomed to the idea of her new role.

  Kilburn bowed. ‘Very well. I see I have little choice but to accept, but do not keep me waiting too long.’

  Was that a hint of a threat? No. It could not be. She was growing fanciful—looking for reasons not to trust him. At least this way she could learn more about her husband-to-be and, hopefully, become reconciled to her fate.

  He reached for her hands and, before she realised his intention, his lips covered hers and his tongue was in her mouth. She kissed him back, mirroring his movements, but it felt all wrong. Unnatural. Kissing Zach had been effortless. She didn’t once have to think about how to kiss him, it just happened. Instinctively.

  She waited until the door closed behind him before rubbing her mouth dry with the back of her hand.

  * * *

  That evening, Aunt Drusilla retired early with a headache and Cecily and Miss Fussell sat together in companionable silence as the day dimmed to twilight. A book, resting open on Cecily’s lap, held no interest for her. She could not even recall the title. Her mind was miles away, with Zach and his animals. Where was he now? Would he return to his family? Was he thinking of her? Would she ever see him again? She knew the answer to that. No. Marrying Kilburn would place an insurmountable barrier between them.

  Oh, and the fact that he is a Romany and you are the daughter of a duke is not an insurmountable barrier?

  She pushed that snide inner voice aside.

  She wanted him. She longed for him. But she could not deny that her brief taste of the Romany way of life had been long enough to dispel any romantic, fanciful notion that she might relinquish her home comforts and be happy with a life under the stars.

  But, oh, how her heart ached for him.

  ‘Are you feeling quite the thing, my dear?’ Miss Fussell’s timid enquiry brought Cecily back to the present with a start. ‘You look rather peaked, if you do not object to me saying so. And you have not turned a page in the past half-hour.’

  Cecily set aside her book and sighed. ‘I am quite well, thank you, Miss Fussell. I confess to a certain restlessness of spirit, however. I wonder—would you care for a turn around the garden before it gets fully dark? It is a beautiful evening and so very warm.’

  Miss Fussell smiled, a little anxiously. ‘I should enjoy that, if my company would be agreeable to you?’

  Cecily rose to her feet and smiled warmly at her aunt’s companion. ‘I should not have asked you if I deemed your company unwelcome, Miss Fussell. Come. I do not think we shall require shawls, do you? There is not a breath of wind out there.’

  They strolled through the garden, the scent of flowers heavy in the evening air. There were so many questions Cecily longed to ask Miss Fussell, but she feared any attempt to equate their positions might prove offensive. She, after all, was not impoverished. And she did have a choice, even though the idea of remaining a spinster held no appeal. Children—both Lord Kilburn’s children and, hopefully, her own—would surely provide adequate compensation for any compromise in her choice of life companion.

  ‘Forgive my boldness, Lady Cecily, but you must know... That is, your aunt—she has hopes of a match and we did think, when his lordship called this morning...well, that he might have—’ She took a deep breath. ‘I beg your pardon, but you seem unhappy. It is not my place to offer, I know, but if you did wish to speak of it—I can keep a confidence, my lady.’

  Cecily touched Miss Fussell’s shoulder. ‘Thank you. I—’

  Miss Fussell emitted a squeak of alarm as a ghostly form swooped low over them before disappearing into the gathering gloom. Cecily’s pulse leapt, sending the blood singing through her veins.

  ‘Do not be alarmed.’ She marvelled at how very calm she sounded. ‘It was a barn owl. Was it not a beautiful sight?’

  ‘Why, yes. Of course, I knew what it was, it simply took me by surprise. Look.’ Miss Fussell clutched Cecily’s arm as she pointed. ‘There it is again.’

  Again, the owl—and she was certain it was Athena—flew towards them. On impulse, Cecily held her arm aloft, as Zach had done. The bird descended, slowing, its wings widespread, its legs thrust forward but then, at the last minute, it rose again, effortlessly it seemed, and continued its flight without touching Cecily.

  ‘It is fortunate, my lady, that she did not land on you.’

  The deep voice came from behind them and Cecily twisted around to face the tall figure that emerged from the camouflage of the dark mass of hedge behind him.

  Zach.

  Calm descended, surrounding her, and she only then appreciated how tightly strung her nerves had been since the moment Kilburn told her Zach had gone.

  ‘Mr Gray. I am pleased to see you. His lordship said you had gone.’

  She was conscious of Miss Fussell’s grip having tightened on her arm. A quick glance revealed wide eyes above an open mouth, but then Miss Fussell looked at Cecily and the understanding and compassion in her gaze thickened Cecily’s throat. Was she that transparent? She returned her attention to Zach.

  ‘Why is it fortunate Athena did not land on me?’

  ‘Your skin is unprotected.’ He brushed his forefinger from elbow to wrist, raising shivers in its wake. ‘Her talons would bruise you. Maybe even break the skin. And his lordship was mistaken.’

  ‘Mistaken? Or—?’

  He silenced her with a gesture, his gaze flicking to Miss Fussell. Cecily introduced them, emphasising that Zach was a friend of her brother’s.

  ‘There is something I have neglected to tell you, my lady.’ His dark eyes bored into hers. Intense. Trying to convey a message to her. ‘Something of great importance. If Miss Fussell could find it in her heart to allow us—’

  ‘Oh. I am sure—that is, I am a little weary, my dear Lady Cecily. If you do not object, I shall sit on this bench for a few minutes to rest while you and Mr Gray enjoy the flowers.’

  The romantic gleam in those old eyes spoke volumes and gratitude for Miss Fussell’s discretion flooded through Cecily.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Miss Fussell sat down, arranging her skirts, and Cecily turned to continue along the path with Zach. As soon as they were out of earshot, he halted.

  ‘What did you wish to say to me, Zach?’

  It can make no difference. Even if he does declare his love—

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  Her heart twisted and a great sadness welled up within her. It was still impossible.

  Zach took her hand and placed it over his heart. ‘I told myself I should go. That I must leave you to your chosen future and that I must continue to follow my own path through life. But my heart—’ he pressed her hand tighter to his chest, so tight she could feel his pounding heart through the coarse cloth of his shirt ‘—my heart tells me otherwise. My heart tells me to admit the truth to you and to try to find a way. I will fight for you, my perfect lady. I will fight.’

  There was much she did not understand. ‘What is the truth? That you love me?’ She raised her other hand and brushed it through his disordered curls, searching his stormy eyes. ‘How can that be enough, Zach? I love you, too, but I cannot live the life you live. I cannot.’

  His chest rose as he hauled in a deep breath. His arms came loosely around her.

  ‘I do not ask you to live that life. I would not see you living the travelling life—you are used to the best. Although I cannot offer you the luxury you are accustomed to, I can offer you a home. My mother, she was a Romany—that is the truth—but my father...’ His chest heaved again, as though he were in the grip of intense emotion. ‘I lived as a gadjo for the first sixteen years of my life. My father was the Earl of Thetford and he saw to it that I was educated in a manner befitting the son of an earl. Until he died.’

  An earl’s son? Hope surged even as Cecily puzzled over the bitterness of those last three words. ‘But—forgive me, but you have a brother, then? Th
e current Lord Thetford?’

  ‘He is my half-brother. After his first wife died, my father met my mother quite by chance and they fell in love. They married, but they were never fully accepted into society. I am surprised you have never heard of that scandal.’

  Cecily shook her head, her thoughts whirling. ‘I did not know. But I would have been a child when your parents married and, when your father died, I would have been ensconced at Cheriton Abbey raising my brother’s children. I rarely visited London after my come out, particularly in the years when the children were small.’ She sensed there was more. ‘Why did you not stay at your family home?’

  ‘My brother drove us out.’

  ‘Your father left no provision for you? For your mother?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ The bitterness was back, more intense than ever. ‘He left provision, but he appointed my half-brother as my guardian. And he made it impossible for us to remain at Thetford Park. But I have been in control of my inheritance since my twenty-fifth birthday and Thetford no longer has any say over my life, Cecily. Do you see?

  ‘I own property. It is but a modest estate in Hertfordshire, but it is enough to provide for a family. We have no need of the rest of society—we can live at Edgecombe, far away from their prejudices and their superiority.’

  A dream come true. A way for them to be together.

  But...

  And why must doubts arise now? Why could she not just embrace that dream with a joyous heart? Why must her conscience whisper all the very real reasons why the dream was still impossible?

  Torn, she stared at him hopelessly. Would her family—Leo, Vernon, Leo’s children—accept her decision? Would they be happy for her? What if, by choosing to be with the man she loved, she became estranged from them? Could she bear it?

  And what of Zach? Could she really ask him to give up his way of life? He had chosen the Romany way—at last she understood his choice of that word. Would he truly be happy giving that up, or would he grow to resent her? What if he should change his mind and hanker after the travelling life again? What would happen then? She had no doubt the Romany life was not for her.

  ‘Cecily, I cannot bear for you to be with a man such as Kilburn.’ His hands moved to her shoulders and his thumbs brushed her throat. ‘He is one of Thetford’s closest friends and I have witnessed the true nature of the man. They made my boyhood hell and he helped Thetford drive my mother and me out. And, besides...I love you.

  ‘Say you feel the same. Say you will marry me, my love.’

  Cecily cradled his face, searching his dark eyes, his soul. She needed time to think things through, even though her heart urged her to take that leap of faith and to accept him regardless, to forget common sense and to ignore the consequences.

  ‘I do feel the same, Zach. You cannot doubt it. I love you, so very much, and I want nothing more than to accept you. But—you have taken me by surprise. You announce you are the son of an earl—I never imagined... I cannot quite...’

  ‘You need time to think, time to adjust.’

  ‘I do—and not only that. I now have an understanding with Lord Kilburn and, for decency’s sake, I should release myself from that obligation first.’

  She put one finger to his lips, which parted. He grazed her fingertip with gentle teeth and a shiver of awareness snaked down her spine as a fire ignited deep in her belly.

  ‘I understand.’ His voice was gravelly with disappointment. ‘You would not be the lady I love—the person of integrity I know you to be—if you were prepared to do anything else. I shall wait for you. Take as long as you need, my dove.’

  Cecily tiptoed up and pressed her lips fleetingly to his. ‘We must return to Miss Fussell. I do not believe she will betray our meeting, but every minute we remain here adds to the risk. His lordship agreed to delay our formal betrothal until I can tell my family in person. He is to call upon me tomorrow, however, and I will ask him then to release me.’

  Even as she spoke the words, doubts still raged within her. Zach’s announcement seemed to offer the perfect solution, but was it too good to be true? Was love enough? She still—desperately—needed time to think.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cecily didn’t know whether to be relieved or disturbed that Aunt Drusilla declared herself too unwell to leave her bed the next day. She welcomed the fact that she did not have to face her aunt—and the doctor’s visit certainly distracted her from her endlessly circling thoughts and from the tension that assailed her whenever she thought of the coming interview with Lord Kilburn—but there was no doubt that she would miss her formidable aunt’s presence when Kilburn did finally come to call.

  The day dragged and it was late afternoon by the time the clatter of hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels on the gravelled forecourt finally announced Kilburn’s arrival. Cecily was so nerve-racked she was drying her damp palms on her handkerchief as the door opened to admit Parker.

  ‘My lady—’ he began, but he got no further.

  A familiar tall figure, with a face like thunder, entered the room on his heels.

  ‘No need for the formalities, Parker,’ Leo said. ‘My sister knows very well who I am.’

  Cecily started to her feet. ‘Leo!’

  About to hurry across the room to greet him, she hesitated. He looked tired and unusually dishevelled. ‘Wh-what is wrong? Is it Olivia? The boys? Are they all well?’

  He did not reply, but continued to regard her from under frowning brows as a muscle bunched in his jaw.

  ‘Leo? You are making me nervous. Is someone ill?’

  He drew in a long breath, then released it with a huff. ‘They are all well. Although I’d have preferred not to leave Livvy at the moment—she is up to something, I am sure.’

  Cecily forced a trill of a laugh. ‘When is she not up to some devilment or other?’

  Her attempted jest failed to raise a smile. Leo stalked towards her and her breath caught. Somehow, he knew. She could see it in those knowing silver eyes of his. She felt her colour rise until her cheeks burned. He stopped before her, looking down at her, and she forced herself to hold his gaze.

  ‘I had a visitor last night. Late. Tell me, Cecily—why is Lord Thetford warning me to watch out for your reputation?’

  The softer Leo spoke, the angrier he was. And those words were very softly spoken. Cecily swallowed and she tilted her chin.

  ‘Th-Thetford?’

  Her voice emerged as a squeak. She had no fear of her brother. He was no ogre. But she was scared—so very scared that whatever decision she made as to her future would result in heartache for her, one way or the other.

  Leo released another sigh and swept one hand through his hair. ‘There is no point in us tiptoeing around one another, Cecy. I have been travelling since first light and I am in no mood for prevarication.’ He indicated a chair. ‘Sit down.’

  She did as he bid and he followed suit. In the silence she could hear the sound of her own heart beating and the sound of her blood rushing through her veins. She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

  ‘Graystoke followed you here. I know it, so there is no point in denying it.’

  Her spine stiffened. ‘I have never lied to you and I am not about to do so now. I presume by Graystoke you mean Mr Gray? We are in love, Leo. I know my own mind—I am thirty years of age, not a naive young girl.’

  ‘In love?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But—I was told you are betrothed to Kilburn.’

  ‘How would Lord Thetford know that?’

  She knew the answer before the words left her mouth. Kilburn had agreed to delay their betrothal, but for Thetford to know of it and for Leo to arrive here so speedily...

  She recalled Kilburn’s words from the day before: ‘I had urgent correspondence to send via the London mail coach, or I should have attended you earlier.’

  Anger spiralled from deep down, burning inside her chest.

  Was he so certain of me—so sure I would accept—that he wrot
e to Thetford of our betrothal before he even asked me?

  It was clear that he had.

  ‘Lord Thetford is mistaken,’ she told Leo, acidly. ‘We are not betrothed. Indeed, at the time Kilburn penned his letter to Thetford he had not even made me an offer. Even now, there is merely an informal understanding between us.’

  Leo took her hand. ‘If you are absolutely determined to wed, Cecy, Kilburn would be a decent enough choice.’

  She stayed silent, gazing at their joined hands through blurred eyes.

  ‘If you are thinking of Graystoke...it will not do, my dear. You know that, deep in your heart.’

  ‘He is the son of an earl.’

  ‘But his mother was a gipsy—’

  ‘A Romany, Leo.’

  ‘It makes no difference what you call him, Cecy. You will be ostracised. Your children will be shunned. Is that what you wish?’

  ‘But if you were to accept us, Leo, it would make all the difference.’

  He stared at her in silence. She waited. Then, with a muttered oath, he surged to his feet, sweeping his hand through his hair. He strode to the window where he stood staring out, his shoulders square, back stiff. Still she waited, understanding the war that was going on inside him, silently praying that he would see things her way. That he would give her his support.

  When he finally faced her again, she knew by his expression that she had lost and her throat constricted as her heart splintered.

  ‘I cannot. It is too much, Cecy. I am sorry, but I cannot condone such a match.’ He crossed the room to sit beside her and gathered up her hands. ‘You appear to have endless faith in my ability to dictate society’s opinion, but I doubt even my approval would prove sufficient to stop you and your children being rejected by many in the ton.’

  ‘Not by our true friends. It would only be by some people and I do not care about them.’