Kissed in the Dark

by Gloria Gay

  So he softened considerably what he had been prepared to say to her so that Cecilia looked up with a blaze of hope in her eyes.

  “You have taken over much of the estate work, Cecilia. I believe you will have to take over even more chores. That was all I meant to say. My illness is gradual. I am not going to die just yet, I assure you, and will last some more years. Dr. Jelvian says it is a rheumatoid condition. He believes it will get worse and worse as the years go by. Eventually, I will be unable to move from a chair. Unable even to feed myself. Even now, I am starting to lose the use of my left hand.”

  “Papa—Papa!” said Cecilia her eyes awash in tears, “but you're not going to die. You're not going to die, my dear sweet Papa.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “I'm sorry if I conveyed such an idea,” said her father, glad to see how much his daughter loved him, although he had always known it, for she was a demonstrative girl. But then, they had only each other now, so they had become closer than ever.

  “And then there is the matter of my heir, Alex Shackel,” said her father.

  “You have met him?” asked Cecilia, still holding on tight to her father's hand.

  “Briefly, last summer, when you had gone to stay with your Aunt Eleanor.” Sir Geoffrey ran a hand over his face. “I cannot say I liked him even though I made an effort, as he is my heir.”

  “Well, don't think of him, then, for it's not necessary, my dear. Alex Shackel is going to have to wait many many years, thank the Lord, to come into his inheritance. Let's talk of happier things.”

  “Cecilia, we must settle this thing with Arandale tonight, for I must reply to his request soon. Do consider, as the Countess Arandale, you would be thrust into a life of ease, luxury and security. You cannot even imagine the kind of life it would be, the resources to which you would have access. Are you aware of this?”

  “I am, Papa, and I do not wish for it,” Cecilia answered. “I have no regard for Lord Arandale and can never have any. I am surprised at his proposal, more than you can ever imagine. I can only surmise that he believes that a 'country miss' such as myself, with little town bronze and less connections will be only a nice source of healthy heirs and one who will be subjugated with a look into silence. I imagine I would see little of him should I be unfortunate enough to be his wife. He is humorless too, at least with me. He is stiff and proper. Though I have seen him laugh enough in the company of his mistress.”

  “Cecilia, you may be misjudging him. I must insist that you at least consider it.”

  “Papa,” implored Cecilia, kneeling at his feet and taking his hands to her face, “have you not told me dozens of times what an eye for character I have? How it takes me little to form judgments on people which, as you say, are right on the mark?”

  “Well, yes, but I believe you are rushing into this one.”

  “I don't think so, Papa. I have had occasion to observe Lord Arandale’s character and it is everything I deplore. He appears an arrogant man disdainful of the opinions of others, and of a pride that makes me wince in the recalling. He is fawned and admired by people for whom he seems to have little regard. He flaunts his mistress without regard for propriety, and, excuse me for saying it, but I firmly believe he is the kind that will not give her up when he weds. Had he felt a need to impress upon me an interest toward matrimony, should he not at the very least let go of his mistress during the time he was supposedly courting me? But did he do even that? If he cannot let go of his lightskirt even for a few months, what is to await me as his wife?”

  Cecilia’s frank way of talking to her father was not new to him, so he was not surprised by her words. At the estate she had ridden alongside him and seen mares give birth without blushing. She was to inherit her grandmother’s estate and Sir Geoffrey believed she would do an excellent job of it. No, she did not have to get married to have her future secured. But Sir Geoffrey would have liked to have her settled to a powerful man like Arandale. Arandale’s protection was something to reckon with.

  Sir Geoffrey sighed for the loss of Arandale’s protection of Cecilia more than for Arandale’s title and fortune. He wished he could convince her that Arandale was a man of honor and character but he seemed unable to even get past her first impression of him.

  “Cecilia, my dear, could you at least postpone this decision for two days, two days in which you can let things settle so that we do not view it in the heat of the moment. Please, my dear, do this for me?”

  “All right, Papa, two days it is.”

  But Sir Geoffrey knew very well that Cecilia was set against marrying Lord Arandale and two days would not make a difference. She had decided against him. He knew he would not force her to it. He also knew that other men in his place would not have given their daughters a choice. But then Cecilia was not just any girl, thought her father proudly. Cecilia was Cecilia— unique. Cecilia had talked him into giving her fencing lessons and he was certain she could now handle the sword as well as any man.

  * * *

  The two days went by. Sir Geoffrey and Cecilia did not talk about the marriage proposal during these two days, yet at the end of them Cecilia’s answer was the same.

  “Then you wish me to answer this letter in the negative, without giving Arandale the least bit of hope, my dear?”

  “I do, Papa.”

  “Are you quite certain, my dear, it's a big decision you are making.”

  “Papa,” said Cecilia, there is nothing in this world that would make me consider Lord Arandale as a husband.”

  “If he is as you say,” said her father, a worried look appearing in his eyes, “he will be affronted by your refusal. I don’t believe he will be expecting it. I accepted his courtship of you, even if I did not mention it to you. This will be the same as canceling the courtship without even giving him a hint of hope.”

  “Papa, do write the letter as soon as you may,” prompted Cecilia, “and send it quickly to him. I want this business over and forgotten as soon as possible so that I can resume my season without this thing hanging over me. And my dear,” added Cecilia, “considering that Lord Arandale may be offended by my refusal, let's keep this in absolute secret. I would not want him to be able to say that I spread it around London that I refused the Earl of Arandale. Not even to Lady Rolande should we confide it, for I cannot trust either her or Hedra to keep it secret.”

  “I agree with you, my dear. It shall remain an absolute secret between us and Arandale.” Sir Geoffrey let out a long sigh. “It's going to take me the whole day to compose the letter and likely be the most difficult piece of writing I have tackled in my life. I'm glad my hand these days has not given me as much trouble as before, for I cannot have you write it, as you now do all my correspondence, Ceci. This letter must be in my own handwriting.”

  “I can just imagine what Lord Arandale would say if he found out I had written the letter,” laughed Cecilia, and almost skipped out of her room, so happy she was that she had just removed a burden from her mind.

  CHAPTER 10

  For the first time in memory, Lord Arandale arrived at an Almack’s ball on time. Standing by himself against a wall, his gray eyes, which revealed nothing, surveyed the ballroom. Then with a sharp intake of breath he caught sight of two girls, one dressed in cream and the other one in snowy white.

  For the first time, also, Arandale actually looked at Cecilia. He realized that she was a very attractive girl. Her blue-green eyes had deep tones, and her face was a perfect oval with high cheekbones. Her graceful neck curved above the simple and elegant cut of her white dress.

  It was the first time Arandale had actually looked at a girl—since Sarah. His eyes, invariably, only glanced over women. Even his former mistress’ features had not been familiar to him and he would have been hard put to recall the color of her eyes, for he had never actually looked at them.

  He smiled wryly at himself, realizing that this unusual scrutiny of Miss Sentenell and newborn attraction was the result of the thrashing he had received at
her hands.

  People were still moving around greeting each other, as men signed dance cards. Lord Arandale, swallowing a bit of pride, headed toward the two girls, for he noticed that there were a few men already signing their dance cards. He would have to get in line unless he wanted to be left out of dancing with Cecilia Sentenell. He could hardly believe himself as he waited behind the two gentlemen that were signing Cecilia’s dance card.

  Perhaps it was the glare in Arandale’s eyes that brooked no opposition, or maybe she was taken unawares, but all Cecilia could say when Arandale asked her if she was free for the first waltz and last waltzes, was a faint, “Yes, my lord”.

  A fine mess she was making of things, she thought, wondering if Lord Arandale had noticed the furious blush in her face as he moved away. Why had she not said no to Arandale and end this sorry business? She had thought that her denial of his offer had been enough to keep him away from her for the rest of the season. Well, apparently that was not to be.

  Lady Rolande stood with the matrons and observed with interest as Lord Arandale approached Cecilia. She could not imagine what the exalted earl had to say to someone as insignificant as Cecilia Sentenell but was too far to hear what Lord Arandale was saying. Surely he wasn’t asking her for a dance! That would surely make tongues wag and give consequence to a most undeserving chit. She could not imagine how Hedra would take it if that was what Arandale had done. Lady Rolande’s daughter had fiercely set her cap on Arandale.

  “You do not approve of Miss Sentenell?” a voice sounded beside Lady Rolande, so that she started.

  “You do give one a turn, Alex,” she said, looking up at the robust form of Alex Shackel. Shackel’s mouth twisted downward above his graying goatee. There was hardness in his eyes as he, too, gazed at Cecilia.

  “I see you brought Sir Geoffrey in time for the season as you promised.”

  “It was easy, in fact,” said Lady Rolande, expanding under Shackel's praise, “my trusty little medicine packets are powerful carrots to hold under his nose.” But Lady Rolande seemed preoccupied as she gazed at the dancing couples.

  “Why so thoughtful?” asked Shackel.

  “You would be thoughtful too if you had seen what I saw,” she said, moving away from people so that their words would not be overheard. “Your cousin's daughter, it seems has been singled out by Arandale. I thought you said you had the matter almost wrapped up.”

  Shackel jerked his head toward where Lady Rolande nodded and a cold look crossed his eyes. “It does not signify,” he said in a low voice. “It will never come to anything.”

  “Oh? How so?” asked Lady Rolande, extremely interested.

  “Because I will make certain of it.”

  “I would not doubt it for a moment,” said Lady Rolande, sighing in relief. Hedra’s wish to secure Arandale for herself would not be hampered by Cecilia. Lady Rolande looked into Shackel’s eyes and was content with what he saw. She was certain Shackel would make certain Cecilia’s affections turned only on his direction. And that was as it should be, for he was Cecilia's father's heir. Surely Cecilia would love to stay in her ancestral home.

  “Come, let us go out to the terrace where there is more privacy,” said Lady Rolande. Although she wanted to keep an eye out for this interest in Cecilia she had noticed in Arandale she was much more interested, for the moment, on what Shackel intended to do about it.

  Once out in the terrace, Lady Rolande adjusted her shawl about her shoulders and turned once more to Shackel.

  “You have met with Sir Geoffrey?”

  “On Tuesday next.”

  “And how is it that you are so secure in your ambition?”

  “Would you doubt it?” he asked.

  “No. I believe you will accomplish what you set out to do. I cannot envision anyone more stupidly blind than Sir Geoffrey Sentenell. I was easily successful in convincing him that his wife and I had been the best of friends, when it had been, in fact, my cousin Viola who had been her friend. Aunt Ellen gave me Viola's things before she died and I put them to good use,” said Lady Rolande to Alex. She added to herself that that miniature of her cousin and Cecilia's mother had now become a constant funding of steady income, for Sir Geoffrey, vague as to how Lady Rolande looked as a girl, took Lady Rolande's words that it was she, herself, in the miniature.” Cecilia had scrutinized the small portrait more carefully but had said nothing, also taking Lady Rolande's word as fact.

  “Cecilia as a bride, together with her fat fortune will be easy prey to a wolf like you,” she expressed to Shackel. “I almost wish it was more difficult, Alex, so that I may view the sport with more interest.”

  “I have been meaning to thank you for getting Sir Geoffrey to bring Cecilia to London for the season,” said Shackel, “Although now that you have expressed how easy it was, I have a mind to owe you only a very small favor.”

  “You will feel obliged to owe me as large a favor as I deem it to be, Alex, if you want to secure my continued assistance.”

  Shackel merely smiled, or with what in him passed for a smile. It was actually a malevolent grin as they returned to the dance floor.

  * * *

  Viscount Barling, Arandale’s closest friend and classmate from Cambridge, walked up to where Arandale stood alone, gazing at the couples in the opening reel.

  “Back from Sheffield, Drew?” Arandale asked.

  “Just last night,” answered Barling, and asked, “And what brings you to an Almack’s ball so far from eleven, old man?”

  “A yearning for stale lemonade, I think it was,” answered Arandale.

  “I will suggest to Countess Lieven and Lady Jersey, that talkative little gossip factory, that they put up a plaque to commemorate the event,” laughed the viscount.

  He gazed at his friend curiously, “I hear the Beau is to attend this evening.”

  “I had not heard it,” said Arandale, “but I doubt it. He and the Prince are at Brighton still. I don’t think he would get back here in time.”

  “Were you at the bacchanal at Lady Vesperaud's?'

  Arandale laughed his dry mirthless laugh.

  “I heard there was some terrific drinking, even for Brighton,” said Drew, “and there was talk of some bloody fight during the ridotto. Though no one knew exactly who hit who, for all were wearing dominoes.” The viscount leaned and whispered. “Is it true it turned into an orgy and that both Countess Sophia and Elizabet Marring wore nothing under their dominoes?”

  “I believe I left before all that,” said Arandale, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “But you heard an exaggerated version. Certainly there was a lot of drinking and gaming but as for the fight—it could only be termed a scuffle between Lord Jared and that noncock, Viscount Falwen over Elizabet. A more dandified piece of work I have yet to see. Prinny has become quite attached to him, as he is wont to do. Then of course, he will discard him in favor of someone else. He is at odds with Beau, so he is trying to send him messages that way.”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of all that,” asked Drew.

  “All what?”

  “The drinking until dawn, with men throwing up all over the rugs and the same thing all over again the next day. I took a few such sessions and couldn’t stomach much more of it. I hear Lady Solbring lost five thousand at one sitting.”

  “That much is true,” said Arandale, as he looked up and saw Cecilia dancing the reel. He suddenly tried to picture Cecilia at that wild party at Brighton and he couldn’t. No, she would never be caught in a place like that. The thought made him feel soiled, for being quite capable of being in such parties himself—again and again.

  He glanced at the man she was dancing with.

  “Who is that?”

  “Who is who?”

  “That man, dancing with Miss Sentenell?”

  “First of all, you must explain to me who the devil Miss Sentenell is,” said Viscount Barling laughing, “before I can identify the man dancing with her.”

  “The girl next to the pill
ar, right by Will Carlson.”“

  That’s Alex Shackel. I thought you knew him.”

  “Oh. Yes, I suppose I do, in a way. I had not seen him in some time,” said Arandale between his teeth.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Good Lord, who is that dancing with Arandale, Arthur—do you know her?” Asked Countess Dalmont of her husband.

  Lord Dalmont directed his monocle toward the couple. “It’s Sentenell's daughter, I believe,” said Lord Dalmont. Like Lord Kelly, Lord Dalmont knew everyone, even the most obscure in the aristocracy. Lord Dalmont and Lord Kelly liked to engage in long conversations over brandy concerning members of the aristocracy. The more obscure the more they interested them, for then it became a challenge.

  “Sentenell? Do I know him?” Lady Dalmont directed her monocle toward Cecilia.

  “I don’t believe you do, my dear,” said Lord Dalmont. “I knew of him but only became acquainted with him last week, when he bought a horse from me. He hails from Nottingham, I believe, and is in London for his daughter’s first season. From what I gathered, he was talked into it by Lady Rolande, who was a friend of his deceased wife.”

  “Lady Rolande! A more devious piece of work he could not have found for a friend,” said Lady Dalmont with a disapproving shake of her head. “And what is Justin thinking, giving consequence to her by dancing with her? Is he courting her?”

  “It appears your brother is smitten with the chit,” added Lord Dalmont, “I don’t think I have seen Arandale dance with anyone these last half dozen years.”

  “I would much rather he continued his fast, rather than break it in that manner,” said his wife in a highly agitated voice. “Come Arthur, let us go into supper, for I believe he also has the supper dance with her!”

  * * *

  Later that evening, Lady Dalmont, unable to sleep, kept a vigil. Her eyes were screwed up in intense concentration.