Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray

by Janice Preston

  ‘I don’t want to lose you, Cecy,’ Leo muttered, his voice catching.

  Cecily blinked away her tears. ‘You have only yourself to blame, Leo. Look what you started—no sooner did you finally succumb to Cupid’s arrow than Vernon and I needs must follow suit.’

  She went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘But you are not losing me, my darling brother. You have Rosalind, Vernon has Thea and I will have Zach—but that will enhance our family, not diminish it. We will be bigger, stronger and happier. Now, let us go. I cannot wait to begin my life as Lady Cecily Graystoke.’ A moment’s disquiet threaded through her. ‘Have you seen Zach this morning? Is he returned from Edgecombe?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He is returned.’ There was the slightest quiver in his voice that made her look at him with suspicion, but his expression gave nothing away. ‘Come. Let us go.’

  The Season was over, yet many families had remained in Town to see the final member of this generation of Beauchamps tie the knot and they had gathered outside St George’s in Hanover Square, mixing with the commoners who had also come to enjoy the spectacle of a society wedding. A cheer went up as the barouche drew up outside the church. It was still uncertain quite what the ton would make of this marriage between a duke’s daughter and a half-Romany, but the people of London were thrilled by the romance of the story, the excitement of Zach’s wrongful arrest and his rescue by one of the most powerful Dukes in the land. Zach had become something of a romantic hero to many of the ordinary folk.

  Inside the church, the wide aisle was strewn with rose petals and there, at the front, dark, brooding and unbearably sexy in his black suit, enlivened by a red and gold embroidered waistcoat, was Zach. The man Cecily loved more than life itself. She inhaled, Leo squeezed her hand into his ribs and they began the long walk up the aisle. Daniel, Zach’s groomsman, was by his side and her beloved family were all there, seated in the high-sided box pews, ready to watch Cecily and Zach taking their matrimonial vows. On Zach’s side, there was only Thetford, but Cecily was delighted to see him and smiled with pleasure. The only person missing—her heart sank.

  ‘Where is Alex?’ she hissed at Leo.

  ‘He is here. You just can’t see him yet.’

  Leo winked at Cecily and then it was too late to demand he tell her what was going on, because they had reached the front and Zach was smiling at her and, for a moment, everything else just disappeared. He filled her vision and her soul, and her heart overflowed with love. He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pure joy radiating from his eyes as his lips curved in a beaming smile.

  The Reverend Hodgson, waiting to begin the ceremony, cleared his throat and they turned to face him.

  ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God...’

  Cecily listened intently to the words of the service and held her breath as the rector said, ‘...if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.’

  A tiny part of her wondered if Lord Kilburn would suddenly appear and object, but he did not. She sensed Zach tense at exactly the same point in the service and she glanced sideways at him, seeing the smile flicker over his lips, and she knew they had thought the same thing. She smiled in reply and then concentrated once more on the Reverend Hodgson’s words, answering ‘I will,’ when required.

  Then Leo, when asked, gave her hand to the rector. Zach spoke his vows firmly and clearly, and she did the same. And then the Reverend Hodgson held out the prayer book, asking for the rings. Zach nodded to the rector and smiled reassuringly at Cecily as he took her hand and turned her to face the rear of the church. At the far end stood a man with a large, pale oval shape balanced on his outstretched arm.

  It took Cecily several seconds to understand what she was looking at. Alex. And perched upon his arm...surely that was...but it could not be. She looked to Zach, who stretched his own arm out sideways and emitted a low whistle.

  Athena glided low and silent down the aisle towards them, to the collective gasp of the congregation. Several ribbons—pink and white—fluttered from her legs. As she neared Zach, she flapped her wings—once, twice—and rose higher, reaching with her feet for Zach’s arm. Zach fed her a reward and it was only then that Cecily saw that each of the two white ribbons was threaded through a gold wedding ring. She watched through teary eyes as Zach untied the knots holding them in place and slipped them free. He raised his arm and Athena took flight again, this time heading back up the aisle to Alex.

  Zach placed the wedding rings, one thick and masculine, the other delicate and feminine, on to the prayer book and the rector continued with the service as though barn owls flew inside his church every day.

  Zach and Cecily were pronounced man and wife, they signed the marriage lines and then they were walking back up the aisle, between smiling faces. As they neared the church door, Zach dipped his head to whisper, ‘Little did we know, when we met inside the church at your brother’s wedding, that it would soon be our own wedding day.’

  Cecily halted at his words. With a puzzled frown, Zach also stopped. She reached up and pushed his hair back from his right ear, and she breathed a sigh of pure happiness as his diamond earring was revealed.

  ‘I feared...for a moment...’ She stretched on to her tiptoes to kiss his lips. ‘Don’t ever change, my glorious Romany lover.’

  He grinned at her words, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. ‘Oh, I can promise you that, my dove. Come.’

  He steered her out into the sunlight. The crowds cheered their appearance, but the sound was almost drowned out by the clatter of wings as dozens of white doves were released from wooden crates, taking to the skies above London.

  ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ She watched until the final bird was lost to sight.

  And then she saw, behind the barouche that waited for them at the kerb, a flower-bedecked gig. Between the shafts, his plaited mane interwoven with yet more flowers, stood Titan. And, tethered behind, was Sancho Panza, one long ear flopping over his eye. Alex—grinning as he joshed with boys from the crowd—was in the driving seat.

  Cecily burst into laughter.

  ‘Hurrah for the Gipsy Lord,’ yelled a voice from the crowd and the chant was taken up as Zach led Cecily to the barouche.

  He turned to her as they set off on the short journey towards Grosvenor Square and on the long journey towards the rest of their lives together.

  ‘Will you be my Gipsy Lady?’

  ‘Yes. Always and for ever.’

  They were still kissing when the barouche drew to a halt outside Beauchamp House.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, you won’t want to miss these other great reads by Janice Preston

  SAVED BY SCANDAL’S HEIR

  THE GOVERNESS’S SECRET BABY

  CINDERELLA AND THE DUKE

  SCANDAL AND MISS MARKHAM

  Keep reading for an excerpt from AN EARL TO SAVE HER REPUTATION by Laura Martin.

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  An Earl to Save Her Reputation

  by Laura Martin

  Chapter One

  ‘Three husbands in six years. If I didn’t know it to be true, I wouldn’t think it possible.’

  ‘And the rumours of how those poor men died...’

  ‘She might have a pretty face, but I wouldn’t want any relative of mine becoming embroiled with her. One can only guess what will happen to husband number four.’

  ‘It’s nothing short of scandalous how she’s swanning around this ballroom. Hardly out of mourning and she’s all smiles and laughter.’

  ‘And insisting she continue to run that grubby little business of her second husband. It’s not ladylike and it’s not proper.’

  Anna closed her eyes for a moment before pressing herself further into the recess of the ballroom. The two women who were gossiping openly and maliciously were shielded from view by a tall, lush potted plant. But one of them only needed to move a few inches to their right or left and they would catch sight of Anna desperately trying to avoid them.

  The words themselves didn’t hurt. She had been married three times and all three husbands had died within a year of their marriage. Anna was well aware of the less-than-complimentary names she was called by the spiteful matrons and wide-eyed debutantes. Murderer, husband killer, black widow. It didn’t seem to matter to them that it just wasn’t true and Anna had learnt long ago that it was better to let people speculate than to fuel the gossip with denials and pleas to be left alone.

  Despite becoming hardened to the infamy, Anna hated the sort of situation she found herself in right now. She wished she could just slink away without anyone noticing her presence.

  ‘Lady Fortescue, how pleasant to see you again after so long,’ a man Anna vaguely recognised called out in a voice that seemed to echo off the walls. From her position behind the plant pot Anna saw the two gossips turning to look her way. There was no escaping their line of sight.

  Straightening her back, dropping her shoulders and lifting her chin, adopting the posture that made her look more confident even if she didn’t feel it, Anna stepped out of the recess and into the ballroom. She acknowledged the man with a polite incline of her head, then turned to fix the two women with a glacial stare.

  ‘Give my regards to your brother, Mrs Weston. Such a darling man,’ Anna said, before gliding away as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Anna wasn’t sure if Mrs Weston even had a brother, they’d certainly never been introduced, but the small deception was worth it for the look of abject horror on both women’s faces.

  Anna needed to get away. With a quick glance across the ballroom she saw Beatrice, her young cousin who she had agreed to chaperon for the Season, dancing a lively cotillion, her face lit up by a sunny smile and her chest heaving from the exertion. Beatrice would be unlikely to require Anna’s attention for a few minutes at least, so quickly Anna slipped out of the ballroom.

  It was noticeably cooler in the hallway and there was a scent of freshly cut flowers mixed with the smell of hundreds of burning candles. Even out here small groups gathered, glad to be away from the heat and crowds in the ballroom for a few minutes, and Anna had to force herself to walk calmly past them rather than pick up her skirts and run. She just wanted some privacy, or even better anonymity, to be able to enjoy the music and dancing without everyone talking about her behind their hands.

  As she ventured further from the ballroom the hallway became quieter. Anna felt her heart beginning to slow and the panic that had seized her only moments before start to subside. She tried one door handle, then another, finding an unlocked door on her third attempt. Quickly she slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness after the brilliantly lit hallway, but after a while Anna could make out the lines of bookshelves against the walls and the shapes of a few comfortable chairs with a desk at one end. This was some sort of study or library, the perfect retreat for a few moments’ peace. Before long she would have to steel herself for another round of sideways looks and malicious gossip in the ballroom, but right now she would just enjoy the solitude.

  Anna lowered herself into a high-backed chair, her posture rigid even though no one else would see her. Her late husband, her latest late husband, had been a stickler for good posture and impeccable manners. Anna had learnt quickly to glide slowly around the house, sit with a straight back and never let any emotion show on her face. The punishment for breaking these rules was unmerciful, like many of Lord Fortescue’s whims.

  Closing her eyes, she listened to the distant hum of conversation from the ballroom and the first faint notes of a waltz. Even through the background noise Anna noticed the sound of hurried footsteps getting closer, but before she could move the door to the study opened and two people slipped inside. It was apparent immediately that Anna’s unwanted companions were a man and a woman, and by the excited whispers and scent of champagne she could only assume they were here for some secret assignation.

  ‘Your husband won’t miss you?’ the man said, as Anna heard the rustle of silk.

  ‘Old fool is at the gaming tables—he wouldn’t notice a stampede of wild horses.’

  Anna wondered if she should stand and make her presence known. The last thing she wanted was to become embroiled in this couple’s illicit affair, but she didn’t much desire to be witness to their intimacy either.

  She’d just gripped the armrests, ready to push herself up, when the door opened for a second time. Anna heard the couple freeze, then spring apart in a rustle of fabric and clatter of shoes. The light of a candle illuminated the room, causing the shadows to lengthen around her. She sank back into the chair, fervently hoping that the new guest would scare away the couple and then leave her in peace.

  ‘My apologies,’ a deep, slightly amused voice said. Anna analysed the tone and intonation, but was sure she had never met this newcomer before. Even after being removed from society for the past couple of years she still was familiar with most of the aristocratic gentlemen who frequented these balls, but this man she did not think she recognised.

  The young woman gasped theatrically and ran from the room.

  ‘Edgerton.’

  ‘Wilbraham.’

  The two men greeted each other with just a single word which suggested they knew one another at least passably well. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as Anna in her hidden position held her breath and willed both men to leave.

  ‘You won’t say anything, old chap?’

  ‘No. Not my place.’

  Footsteps and the closing of the door followed, but the candlelight still illuminated the room and Anna could hear the light breathing of one of the gentlemen.

  Wondering whether to make a dash for the door, Anna shifted in her chair just as the newcomer came into view.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said, no trace of surprise at finding her sitting in the high-back chair evident in either his face or his voice.

  ‘Good evening.’ Despite her thumping heart Anna managed to sound poised and calm. Years of practice at maintaining a serene façade came in useful sometimes.

  ‘Looking for a little peace?’

  ‘Yes.’ Anna kept her voice clipped and icy, hoping the gentleman would understand she wanted to be left alone.

  She watched as he sauntered around the study, opening cupboards and cabinets until he came across what he was looking for: a bottle of whisky and two short glasses.

  ‘Can’t abide champagne,’ the gentleman said, pouring out two generous measures of the caramel-coloured l
iquid. ‘And punch is even worse.’

  He held out one of the glasses, waiting for Anna to take it before he sat down in the chair next to hers. Taking a gulp, he examined the liquid thoughtfully before chuckling softly.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Anna asked, regretting the question as soon as it passed her lips. She knew better than to engage.

  ‘Prendy’s servants are watering down his whisky,’ he said, raising the glass to his lips for another taste.

  ‘Prendy’s?’

  ‘Lord Prenderson. Our host.’

  ‘You know him well?’

  ‘Doesn’t everyone know everyone else?’

  Anna was just about to bid her companion farewell when he fixed her with a penetrating stare.

  ‘Although I don’t think we’ve ever met.’ He regarded her, letting his eyes sweep from the top of her head, across her features and down over her body. ‘I’m sure I’d remember.’

  The polite thing would be to introduce herself, yet Anna stood abruptly, set her untouched glass on the table and took a step towards the door.

  ‘I wouldn’t go out there just yet if I were you.’

  She took another step forward.

  ‘Bad idea.’

  Two more steps. In another few seconds she would be out of the study and heading back towards the crowds.

  ‘It’s your choice, of course, but the gossips would be delighted to find you in here unchaperoned.’

  Anna stiffened, closing her eyes for a brief few seconds before turning slowly and facing her companion.

  ‘Gossips?’

  ‘A group of middle-aged matrons are recovering from the heat of the ballroom out in the hall. I’m sure it would not escape their notice that you were in here with Lord Wilbraham and Mrs Featherstone.’ He frowned as if something had just occurred to him. ‘What were you planning on doing if they’d decided to further their intimacy?’

  ‘In the study? So close to the ballroom? I hardly think that was likely,’ Anna said, her voice dry and her face serene.