Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray

by Janice Preston

  ‘Thank you, Tatler. That will be all.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  That evening Zach walked into the soirée with his head high, knowing that if Thetford or Kilburn were present his half-Romany status would quickly spread around the room. And he had concluded that the best way to deal with any ensuing gossip was to be completely open and unapologetic about his heritage. Then people could either take him or leave him. He would not be ashamed of his family. They had treated him with far more compassion and acceptance than Thetford, a peer and a so-called gentleman.

  He approached his hosts. Sir Henry, his stomach straining the buttons of his waistcoat, shook his hand vigorously.

  ‘Graystoke, eh? I remember your father. Yes, yes. Good of you to come at short notice. My dear?’

  He turned to the rotund woman by his side. Her rosy cheeks quivered as she smiled at Zach, her round eyes inquisitive, her head cocked to one side.

  ‘My wife, Lady Tubthorpe. Mr Graystoke.’

  Zach bowed.

  ‘I am delighted to meet you, sir.’

  ‘Thank you for the invitation, my lady.’

  ‘I understand from Lady Olivia that you are newly arrived in Town?’

  ‘Lady Olivia?’

  ‘Why, yes. She sent a note to our Lizzie—that’s our daughter, they’re great friends, you know—and asked if we might send you an invitation for this evening.’

  ‘I see. I shall have to thank her when I see her.’

  So this invitation had not been prompted by Cecily, eager to see him again. His spirits dipped, but only fleetingly. After all, he had not yet begun his campaign to change her mind and, if Cheriton was harbouring doubts about Kilburn, he at least had more time to make his case.

  ‘The Beauchamp party have yet to arrive but, in the meantime, perhaps you will allow me to introduce you to one or two people?’ Lady Tubthorpe said as she ushered him towards a crowded room. ‘There will no doubt be dancing here in the salon later, but there are card tables also set up in the book room over there—’ she waved her arm, indicating a room on the opposite side of the hall ‘—and the sitting room is for those who wish to sit and talk.’

  She halted suddenly. ‘I should perhaps make you aware that your brother is already present, Mr Graystoke, and if it will set your mind at ease, Sir Henry and I discussed Olivia’s request before I sent your invitation. We both remember your father’s second marriage, the ill will towards your mother and how you both vanished after his death. Lord Thetford has never been forthcoming about what became of you both, but I am delighted you have decided to return.’

  ‘I think not everyone will share your delight, ma’am.’

  They continued towards the salon. ‘That is true. But I faced censure when I married Sir Henry—he was plain Henry Tubthorpe then, not even a sir, and a vicar’s second son with a need to earn his living—and I was snubbed by many former friends. The ton can be exceedingly unforgiving. Since that experience both Sir Henry and I have taken care to draw our own conclusions about people. And I understand you are a friend of Lord Vernon and his new wife—that is a good enough recommendation for me. I have yet to meet Lady Vernon, of course, but for a woman to capture such a wily rake—’ She laughed merrily. ‘Oh, yes. She has my unquestioning approval.’

  Zach couldn’t help but like her ladyship as she rattled away. She led him to the largest group and introduced him before saying, ‘I shall leave you to become acquainted. I have guests to greet.’ She patted Zach’s arm before she left. ‘You are very welcome here, Mr Graystoke, unless you should prove yourself unworthy of our friendship. But I do not believe you will.’ And she bustled away.

  Zach received a mixed reception from his fellow guests. No one challenged him outright about his heritage, but he was aware that curiosity about this stranger in their midst did not equate to approval, or even acceptance, and it would not prevent every salacious detail of his past spreading from mouth to mouth behind his back.

  And then he saw Thetford, with Kilburn, at the centre of a small knot of guests on the far side of the room. The censorious glances from that group left Zach in no doubt as to their topic of conversation and he turned his back, attempting to concentrate on the conversations going on around him. But in reality his main focus was on the salon door...waiting for the moment Cecily appeared. It soon became apparent, however, that more and more of the guests—even those who had previously treated him with civility, if not warmth—were deliberately shunning him. Thetford and Kilburn were doing their job well.

  And, at last, Cecily was there, wearing a shimmering, gauzy gold-coloured gown that draped her curves, making his blood hum with appreciation. Her chestnut hair was caught back with a bandeau of burnished steel, in the style of a Roman goddess, with ringlets falling from a knot on top of her head and a few curling tendrils framing her face. She looked utterly gorgeous. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again, to kiss her, to love her. Her pull was magnetic, but he kept his expression blank and commanded his legs not to move in her direction.

  By Cecily’s side was Lady Olivia, her raven hair coaxed into ringlets, plus another young lady—very beautiful, with her silver-blonde hair piled on to her head and threaded through with pink ribbon—and a formidable-looking older woman, dressed from head to toe in rich purple, leaning heavily on a cane and inspecting her fellow guests through a lorgnette. And, behind them, the Duke and Duchess. Any temptation to go to Cecily withered. There was no point in inviting trouble. He would remain where he was and continue to mingle with the other guests, where possible. Much as he longed to be with Cecily, it was the rest of society, including her family, that he needed to win over.

  The volume of chatter in the room made his head ring as the room grew ever more crowded and his thoughts turned wistfully to the peace of his own campfire. But his discomfort vanished when he finally came face to face with Cecily and her companions. The Duke and Duchess were no longer among their number and a quick scan of the room revealed Cheriton talking to Thetford and Kilburn. Every sinew of Zach’s body hardened. No matter what poison Thetford spread, he would fight for Cecily. Without volition, he pushed his tailcoat aside and ran his fingers over his buttock, feeling the indentation of that brand. He would never allow her to be under the control of the man who had wielded that red-hot iron.

  Never.

  He switched his attention back to Cecily and bowed. ‘I am delighted to renew our acquaintance, Lady Cecily.’

  Cecily bobbed a curtsy. ‘As am I, Mr Graystoke. Might I introduce my companions?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘Lady Glenlochrie, Lady Olivia Beauchamp, Lady Helena Caldicot—this is Mr Graystoke, the brother of Lord Thetford.’

  ‘Half-brother,’ Zach said.

  The two young ladies bobbed curtsies, but Lady Glenlochrie merely inclined her head, her mouth a thin line, before saying, ‘Nell. Olivia. Be good enough to assist me to the sitting room. The noise in here is quite intolerable and my legs grow weary.’

  Zach caught the disapproving glance she directed at Cecily.

  ‘I apologise for Lady Glenlochrie’s abruptness,’ Cecily said. She opened her fan and plied it to cheeks flushed a delicate pink. ‘She is something of a stickler and takes her role as Nell’s official chaperon very seriously.’

  Zach scanned the crowds. Many people watched them avidly, but quickly averted their eyes as they met his. He failed to spot Thetford, Kilburn or the Duke during his sweep of the room. Over the rise and fall of chatter and laughter he caught an occasional melody from a pianoforte.

  ‘There is no need. I am grateful you are prepared to talk to me so openly.’

  ‘Well, you will be pleased to learn that Vernon and Thea arrive tomorrow and Daniel, too, so you will have others to champion your cause.’

  ‘Thea and Daniel, maybe, but I cannot see your brother feeling any more kindly disposed towards me than the Duke.’

  Her green eyes clouded. ‘It is not that they do not like or respect you, as
a man. They are worried about me. Leo is afraid people will cut me. If you put yourself in his place, would you not behave the same?’

  ‘So Cheriton knows I called on you this morning?’

  ‘He does. And he is unhappy, but he cannot dictate to whom I speak. He did, however, order Olivia to do no more than briefly acknowledge you if you should meet again.’

  ‘And yet—’ he silently blessed Cecily’s niece ‘—it was she who prevailed upon the Tubthorpes to invite me here tonight.’

  Cecily shook her head with an exasperated laugh. ‘Why does that not surprise me in the least? She is not a wicked girl, but she is stubborn and determined and she has a knack of reasoning that I suspect she uses on herself as well as others—reasoning that overrules any whispering of her conscience. She generally manages to persuade herself that what she wishes to do will, in the long term, be for the best.’

  ‘The end justifies the means?’

  ‘Yes. Precisely. I fear her unshakeable belief in her own abilities will lead her into trouble one day.’ She scanned the crowd. ‘Tell me, have you met with Lord Thetford yet?’

  ‘I called upon him immediately I left you this morning.’

  ‘And...?’

  He shrugged. ‘I informed him I intend to take my place in society. He was not pleased. We have not spoken this evening.’

  ‘No.’ Worry knotted her brow. ‘I saw him and Lord Kilburn speaking to Leo earlier. I suspect they will do what they can to blacken your name and your character.’

  He failed to suppress his grin. ‘They need do nothing to achieve that, my dove. My parentage is known well enough to convince most people I am a man to be regarded with suspicion and avoided at all costs. The gossip will spread with little help from either of our brothers or from your erstwhile swain.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘He is not—yet—my erstwhile anything. I have still to decide what I shall do.’

  ‘You will choose me.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘That assumption is exceedingly arrogant, sir.’

  He lowered his voice and leaned close to speak in her ear. ‘We are meant to be together—you cannot deny it.’ He registered the fine shiver that racked her as his breath caressed the sensitive skin of her neck. ‘Have you sought out Kilburn this evening? Have you yet to even acknowledge his presence?’ He knew she had not, for he had been watching her. ‘No, but you are here, with me, playing with fire by talking openly with a half-blood Romany, my sweet, brave dove.’

  With one fingertip he stroked the bare skin of her inner arm: that sensitive area that lay exposed between the top of her glove and her sleeve.

  ‘Stop. People are watching.’

  He straightened. If he followed his instinct, he would sweep her into his arms and carry her away, far from these censorious people with their rules and their pomposity. But he had returned to re-establish his place among them, for Cecily’s sake. And for his own sake, too, he realised, as he caught sight of Thetford and Kilburn approaching. It felt good to finally confront his former tormenters. He had allowed them too much power, for too long, over the path his life had taken.

  They stopped in front of him and Cecily. Zach bowed. ‘Thetford. Kilburn.’

  Thetford frowned, but nodded. Kilburn failed to acknowledge Zach’s presence, going immediately to stand on the far side of Cecily. The music came to an end.

  ‘Play something lively,’ a female voice cried out. ‘Let us have dancing.’

  A chorus of voices joined in approval and the pianoforte started up again with the opening bars of a country dance. People began to clear the centre of the room, where the carpet had been rolled up in readiness for dancing.

  ‘Shall we have a little entertainment first?’ Kilburn’s voice carried as he stepped forward into the clearing space. Zach tensed and he heard Cecily’s horrified gasp as the voices around them hushed and the music faltered. ‘We have a newcomer in our midst. A gipsy, no less—a breed famed for their flamboyant behaviour, among other things.’ He pivoted smoothly and bowed towards Zach, sweeping his arm around in an extravagant gesture. ‘Unfortunately, he is masquerading as a gentleman this evening, but I feel certain we can all imagine his normal colourful costume. Graystoke—’ his eyes glittered with malice ‘—do oblige us with a jig, or whatever you call your heathen dances. It is a shame you do not have a gipsy wench here with you, too, to delight and scandalise the audience with her wanton ways.’

  Titters and whispers hissed through the air and every face appeared focused on him. But Zach was aware that, in among the contemptuous looks at him, there were also shame-faced expressions—including, intriguingly, Thetford’s—and one or two hard glares of disapproval directed at Kilburn. He walked forward until he was face to face with Kilburn and he bowed. He did not want this. Had not asked for this. But he would not allow Kilburn to intimidate him. He pivoted in a circle and spoke clearly as he did so, addressing every corner of the room.

  ‘I am, as you are all aware, half-gipsy—or Romany, as my mother’s people prefer to be called. I am not ashamed of that and it is not my intention to renounce it now I have returned to claim my inheritance from my late father, the fourth Earl of Thetford.’ He faced Kilburn again. ‘If your goal was to cause me humiliation, Kilburn, you have failed. As I informed you before, I am no longer a young boy to be persecuted by his older brother and his cronies. I am a man and I know my own worth. I have no need to belittle and humiliate others in an attempt to prove my superiority. As my father—an honourable man—used to say: blowing out another man’s candle does not make yours shine brighter.’

  He turned on his heel and strode from the floor, rejoicing in the approval that illuminated Cecily’s smile—a balm to his raw feelings. At least it had not been his brother who had tried to humiliate him so publicly and for that he was thankful. Thetford was still standing by Cecily and Zach saw a glimmer of respect in his half-brother’s eyes.

  Wonders will never cease.

  ‘Lady Cecily.’ Kilburn had followed on Zach’s heels. ‘May I claim your hand for the first dance?’

  Not by a flicker did Cecily reveal either approval or disapproval for the man and what he had done. Lady Perfect was securely in place.

  ‘Thank you, sir, but I do not dance this evening. May I suggest you seek a partner elsewhere?’

  Kilburn scowled, but made no move to do as she suggested and they remained in an unlikely grouping, none of them, seemingly, willing to walk away. Many couples were already taking the floor and lining up but, all around their little group, people had edged closer, eager to see and hear what might happen next. Zach felt no compulsion to speak or to act, content to wait, but he sensed the inactivity needled the other two men and, despite their outward elegance, the air around them seemed to resonate with suppressed violence.

  ‘Might I escort you to your brother, Lady Cecily?’ Thetford proffered his arm, which Cecily ignored with a chilly smile.

  ‘I thank you but, no, sir. I am more than content to stand here and observe the dance. If I wish to find my brother, I am more than capable of doing so without assistance.’

  ‘You will ruin Lady Cecily’s reputation, Graystoke, if you remain so pointedly by her side,’ Kilburn then growled. ‘Do the honourable thing, and remove yourself from her sphere. You are not welcome here. Are you so very insensitive you cannot recognise the hostility that surrounds you?’

  ‘I recognise your hostility, Kilburn.’ He turned pointedly to Cecily. ‘Would you care for a turn around the room, my lady?’

  He did not proffer his arm. They could stroll side by side. There was no need to push her too hard. Too fast.

  ‘I should—’

  Zach never learned what Cecily’s answer would be. The people around them were parting to allow the Duke and Duchess to pass through, the volume of their chatter fading as the Duke levelled a stony stare at Zach.

  ‘I had no expectation of our meeting again so soon, Graystoke.’ The tone was mild enough, but no one could mistake the steel underly
ing his words.

  ‘Nor I,’ said Zach, holding his gaze. ‘And yet here we are.’

  Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Duchess murmur into Cecily’s ear, following which the two women walked away arm in arm. He took a minute to appreciate the sway of Cecily’s hips in her golden gown, before wrenching his attention back to the Duke, whose glare was unmistakable.

  ‘If you will excuse us?’ Cheriton spoke to Thetford and Kilburn, one brow raised authoritatively.

  They nodded and walked away. Cheriton then sent his silvery gaze around the bystanders closest to them and, with one accord, they too moved away.

  ‘I will not pull my punches, Graystoke. I am conscious of the debt certain members of my family owe to you, but that does not award you entry into society through any association with my name.’

  Zach smiled. ‘Your name is of no consequence to me, hard as that might be for you to believe. I seek neither your approval nor your permission, Cheriton. I plough my own furrow.’

  A muscle leapt in the other man’s jaw. ‘Not with my sister, you don’t.’ His voice was menacingly quiet. ‘Not only is your breeding far beneath hers, I am now informed you are not even legitimate.’

  Shock ripped through Zach. Not legitimate? He looked across the room to where his brother and Kilburn were once again surrounded by avid listeners.

  That bastard.

  If he wasn’t so bloody furious he would laugh at the irony of thinking of his brother in the same terms he had labelled Zach. A bastard! Rage knotted his gut. How dare they malign his mother’s memory?

  He controlled his fury. ‘You have the reputation of a fair man, Cheriton, and you are old enough to have known my father in person. He was a man of honour, yet you are ready to believe that he deliberately tricked society by introducing as his countess a lady to whom he was not legally wed?’

  ‘I have the word of two gentlemen...two noblemen...that it was so. Are you able to prove otherwise?’

  Zach ignored his question. ‘I have warned you before not to be taken in by men’s titles, Cheriton. I told you what Kilburn is capable of. I would not willingly allow him anywhere near any decent woman, let alone a member of my family. He has a cruel streak and men of that ilk always revert to type eventually.’