Kissed in the Dark

by Gloria Gay

  “There is a vase here but the flowers are dead,” she added. “Why don’t we fill the vase with some flowers?”

  Lord Arandale quickly obliged by removing the large stone vase and filling it with water from one of the two ornamental fountains that flanked the sides of the grotto.

  There were beds of daisies, roses and lilies and Arandale cut the flowers that Cecilia pointed at. Soon they had a large bouquet and Cecilia enjoyed arranging the flowers in the vase as Arandale looked on. She was on her knees as she did this and on finishing looked up at Arandale, who was looking down at her.

  Arandale gazed at Cecilia's turquoise eyes. He saw that her eyes caught the slanting rays of the sun that came in through artfully placed panes of colored glass in the grotto. He noticed also that locks of her honey-chestnut hair fell a little over her face and they were splashed with gold lights. He moved instinctively toward her, his pulse quickening.

  Cecilia pulled back and then stood up. She, too, had felt her pulse quicken but had been made uncomfortable by the feeling. A vision of Arandale as he had leaned over and kissed his mistress made her wince. She would not be another of his women, she thought.

  “Well, we are finished here,” she said, brushing away leaves and bits of greenery from her skirt. “And I think the effect is stunning, don’t you, my lord?”

  “Yes, it is,” said Arandale looking away from her, his voice curt. He helped her out of the grotto and they began walking down the path again. He had felt the color rise in his face at her rejection and he was trying desperately to overcome the effect her rejection of his kiss had caused in him.

  Above all she must not know how much it had mattered. It was the first time in his life his kiss had been repulsed, and so quickly too it had left him breathless. What most grated on him was that her repulse had been instant, without even a thought involved.

  Silence hung heavy between them on the way back to the house and Cecilia thought to break the uncomfortable silence. “The grotto is a very pleasant sight. I shall visit it again before this sojourn is over.”

  “Yes,” said Arandale, regaining the natural tone of his voice. “Perhaps we could suggest to my sister that a tea held around the grotto would be very pleasant.”

  “Are you attending the picnic this afternoon?” asked Cecilia, for she didn’t want what had happened between them to dampen his stay at his sister’s house. She wished she had not gone into the grotto with him. She had allowed a situation to develop that could have been avoided. In future, she would make sure she was not placed in such situations, But she could tell, by Arandale’s icy silence, that she need not worry about such a situation developing again. The line of his jaw was grim and his words were sparse.

  They parted at the flagstone steps. Arandale turned toward Cecilia, bowed his head and took his leave.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Cecilia, do tell me what you think of my gown!”

  Hedra twirled around the room. At that moment Lady Rolande walked in and her opinion was also solicited.

  “It looks divine on you, my dear,” said her mother, “but do you not dampen it so much, as you will catch your death of a cold. There is a sharp breeze on that hill as it is out in the open on all sides. I went there this morning.”

  “I shall await downstairs, for I think I will have a small cup of tea while you finish your toilette.”

  “Cecilia?” prodded Hedra, ignoring her mother.

  “Very pretty,” said Cecilia. She had a low opinion of the current practice of dampening muslin gowns so that they would cling to the curves of the body. That was one fashion she would not adopt. There were some womenLady Delphine and Viscountess Lienford in particularwho were famous for wearing very little under diaphanous, dampened gowns. The practice was becoming scandalous. But were Cecilia to express her opinion, Hedra would spend the next two hours trying to convince her that dampening gowns was a perfect practice and one she loved. It was better to let her do as she wished.

  “What are you going to wear, my dearest?” Hedra asked and gazed again at herself on the mirror. It’s almost time to go. Really, I believe we should make haste, for we would not want to make Lady Dalmont angry at us.”

  Hedra’s blond wispy hair was arranged a la Greque, intertwined by a myriad of ribbons to disguise her sparse hair. A row of perfectly round ringlets pasted on her forehead repeated the round of her blue eyes. Her head looked like a pincushion and Cecilia moved away, for she feared she might not be able to conceal a smile.

  “I shall dress then, Hedra. Could you please wait for me downstairs? I shall not be long,” she added as Mary came in with her gown.

  “Cannot I view your toilette, dearest?”

  “No, Hedra,” Cecilia said firmly. “I believe your mother is calling you.”

  “All right, but do make haste. I am in pins and needles and cannot keep still. And anyway, my gown is drying out and I do so want to make my entrance while it is still damp.”

  “One can hardly make an entrance in the wide open fields, Hedra,”

  “I will.”

  Cecilia’s hair had been done since the morning so she had only to don the picnic gown.

  Finally, they were ready and were soon walking out the door and toward the large arbor at the top of the low flat hill where already many people were gathered under the shade of walnuts and oaks.

  Cecilia’s pale turquoise summer gown, adorned with white blossoms at the sleeves and hem was one of the dozen gowns that had been made for her season and she was wearing the well-fitting dress for the first time. It billowed softly with the breeze and she felt good in it, thinking that perhaps—now why did she think of Arandale, of all people, and in relation to a dress in which she felt fitted her as few dresses ever had? She shook her head at the thought and tried to banish it from her mind. Tried to banish also that she was very sorry she had not allowed him to kiss her. Now she would dream of that non-kiss again and again!

  Her chestnut hair was held back from her face by a tortoise shell comb and a single peridot in a necklace that had belonged to her mother adorned her bosom.

  Cecilia sparkled and her pulse quickened when setting out to a party or ball. Lady Rolande held on to her father’s arm and Hedra walked beside her mother. Cecilia was glad to fall back a little behind them and with her thoughts alone, rather than having to put up with Hedra’s incessant chatter.

  * * *

  “Miss Sentenell,” said a voice behind her, startling her out of her thoughts.

  “Lord Arandale,”

  “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

  “Not at all,” she hurried to say, “I was just wrapped up in my thoughts. It’s such a pretty day to hold a picnic. I am glad the weather complied.”

  “Yes,” said Arandale, although he seemed distracted, as though he was about to say something and was choosing the words carefully.

  “I wonder, Miss Sentenell, if you would do me the honor of sharing a basket?”

  “Sharing a basket?”

  “It's a tradition at Rolling Hills, Miss Sentenell, did not my sister explain it to you?”

  “No,” said Cecilia, unable to disguise the suspicion in her voice, “and we spent a good three hours adorning the baskets this morning.”

  “Ah—there she is,” said Arandale and directed his words to his sister. “Barbara, dear. I was explaining to Miss Sentenell the tradition of sharing baskets. Would you kindly help me out?”

  “Well, Miss Sentenell,” said Lady Dalmont, “there is not much to it. A gentleman who wishes to share a picnic basket with a lady—the equivalent of sitting with her at the supper table at a ball—asks the hostess to put their names together in the handle of the basket.”

  “Does not the girl have any say so in the matter?” asked Cecilia.

  “Yes, certainly,” answered Lady Dalmont with a glance at her brother. “She can decline or accept the invitation, just as she would do at the supper dance at a ball.”

  “Well, Miss Sentenell,” asked Ar
andale, “may I have the honor of sharing my lunch with you?”

  “It depends on what’s in your basket,” said Cecilia, “are all the baskets the same?” Her father always told her she was always surprising him with her answers, no matter that he had known her all her life. Such surprise was now evident in both Lady Dalton's and Lord Arandale's faces.

  “Certainly not,” said Lady Dalmont with a laugh and with a quick glance at her brother. Never had she had to praise her own food in order to convince someone into partaking it. Usually it was the other way around. “Rolling Hills is famous for variety in its picnic lunches. In Arandale’s basket, I believe, there are chicken sandwiches and lobster and ham patties, as well as strawberry tarts and peach pudding.”

  “Does that menu serve to make your mouth water in anticipation?” asked Arandale.

  “Sandwiches?” asked Cecilia.

  “John Montagu, a cousin of our father's, invented the contraption many years ago, Miss Sentenell,” said Lady Dalton, “and it's only in the last few years that he has been given credit for it. It’s our only claim to fame.”

  “The Earl of Sandwich?” asked Cecilia.

  “The very same one,” said Lord Arandale, “but it's not true that he's the family's only claim to fame. We also have a great uncle that was hung in the Tower, do we not, Barbara?”

  “We try to forget about him,” said Lady Dalton with a laugh.”

  “Well, the contents of your basket sound delicious, my lord, I accept.”

  Hedra, who had not seen Arandale catch up with Cecilia now realized that she had been left out of an important conversation and hurried to join the little group.

  “Cecilia, darling, let us sit together, shall we?”

  “I must appeal to you, Miss Gavine,” said Lady Dalmont quickly, “to help me at a very pleasant little chore. You cannot say no, not when your friend here, Miss Sentenell, has been so invaluable to me with the decorations of the baskets. I require your help in placing the name tags.

  “Cecilia helped you with the baskets?”

  “Certainly, and very talented she is at it. And you must have talents in other directions, I am certain, Miss Gavine. Come, dear, let us go ask who wants to share a basket with who.” Lady Dalmont, hooked her arm in the reluctant girl’s arm and firmly led her away.

  Cecilia realized that the little tableau had been for the benefit of leaving her and Arandale by themselves and wondered if Arandale had enlisted his sister’s help in such endeavors. No, Cecilia, who was very perceptive, realized that they were not working together and seldom did. They still had the sibling rivalry typical between brothers and sisters and each seemed to have a separate purpose from the other.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Do you know Alex Shackel personally, Miss Sentenell?”

  “I met him at an Almack's dance recently. We spoke only briefly when he asked me to dance. I was away visiting an aunt when he introduced himself to my father last winter. Do you know him, Lord Arandale?”

  “Only slightly, and that from our younger days. I cannot say I have had much contact with him in the last few years, although he spends much of the year in London.”

  “Papa was very upset when his original heir, Guy Lindemere died,” she said. “But he's now resigned to having Alex Shackel as his heir. Lady Rolande seems to have befriended him.”

  “Yes, I have seen them together on several occasions,” said Arandale.

  Cecilia had grown weary of talk of his father’s heir and looked around.

  Arandale, glad to find out that Cecilia knew Arandale only slightly and noticing that the subject did not particularly interest her, changed the subject abruptly, so that even Cecilia was caught by surprise.

  “There is to be a ball tonight, did you know that, Miss Sentenell?”

  “Yes, I believe Lady Dalmont mentioned it to us when we first arrived. I wonder that everyone shall still be inclined to it after the picnic.”

  “Well, the picnic will be most relaxing and will prepare everyone for the ball. See over there, Lord Exelton is already taking advantage of this lazy spring afternoon by dozing off, and by the looks of it Lady Exelton will soon join him.”

  Cecilia looked where he directed and smiled, for certainly Lord and Lady Exelton were two of a kind, dozing off almost at the same time.

  “My sister believes in piling up impressions for her guests. Thus a picnic followed by a ball followed by a Venetian breakfast tomorrow. But I was wondering if perhaps it would not be too far in advance to ask you for the supper waltz and the last waltz of the evening, Miss Sentenell?”

  “I—yes, certainly, Lord Arandale, I would be honored.”

  Lord Arandale’s short, quick inward breath was a result of her pause between the words “I” and “yes” and Cecilia was uncomfortably aware of Arandale’s reaction. In future, she should watch herself!

  The picnic turned out to be a pleasant affair and the food abundant and delicious. Cecilia enjoyed the tasty chicken sandwiches and decided to take some to her father. A picnic being too much exertion for Sir Geoffrey, he had stayed behind in the house, in the huge Dalton library.

  “I shall carry the food for you, Miss Sentenell,” offered Arandale.

  * * *

  “Well, Alex, and I thought you would never get here. I have momentous news for you. Perhaps I should extract a vow from you for such a valuable piece of information before I divulge it.”

  Lady Roland sat at a private upstairs tearoom in the village where she had arranged to meet Shackel.

  “Say it and be done. I will be the judge of its worth.”

  “You won’t believe it, Alex, I could not, and could hardly give credit to my ears. It was amazing luck that brought me to the library door yesterday afternoon, and the door just a smidgen opened.”

  “You are trying my patience,” Alex said through gritted teeth.

  “All right, I’ll say it outright,” said Lady Roland frowning. “What I overheard between Sir Geoffrey and Cecilia Sentenell was a discussion of her rejection of a proposal of marriage. And you won’t believe whose proposal—Lord Arandale’s!”

  “The devil a bit!”

  “I could hardly give credit to my ears, it shocked me so.”

  “When did he propose?”

  “Apparently a few weeks after our arrival. And she rejected him! Can you fathom that? Were the chit to live forty more lifetimes she would never get another offer such as that one!”

  “Why did she reject him? Did she say?”

  “I was trembling behind the door but even with my heart beating in fear I could hear very clearly. Apparently she considers that he lives a debauched life and could not see herself married to such a man all her life. She recalled her first sight of him, on Hyde Park parading his mistress. I remember it clearly, for it was I who pointed him out to the girls!”

  “I can't believe Sir Geoffrey didn’t force her to the marriage. Anyone else would.”

  “Well, they’re very close, those two. I had a hard time coming at least a bit between them. Cecilia’s mother’s death brought them closer than they had been when she was alive.”

  Lady Rolande got closer to Shackel and looked into his eyes. “So, what do you intend to do with this valuable piece of information, Alex. I am intensely curious.”

  “Do you still correspond with that woman who is the secret writer of the gossip bulletin in the Times?”

  “I do—oh! I see what you intend to do!”

  “She may not last long in her rejection of Arandale,” said Alex, “her rejection of Arandale has only just smitten him more and he is pursuing her without rest. No country chit will resist that for long, no matter how she may have disliked him initially.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “I’ll compose the paragraph, you will only deliver it.”

  “Yes…but I’m dying of curiosity, what is it you are going to say?”

  “I intend to divulge the proposal and the rejection in a way that will humiliate Arandal
e and he will blame her. You did say she and her father keep this as the most guarded secret?”

  “Yes!”

  “Well, I’m going to see that all of London finds out about it in a way that will not be becoming to Miss Sentenell.”

  “You are deliciously ruthless,” said Lady Rolande with a high laugh. “I like that. Hedra will be so pleased. She’s been moping around because Arandale's time is taken up with Cecilia all the time.”

  “She won’t mope for long, although a lot of good it will do her.”

  “She’ll be grateful to you her entire life, Alex!”

  “Spare me Hedra’s gratitude, for I haven’t the least thought of her in doing this. In fact, your silly daughter grates on my nerves.”

  “I lost four infants before I was able to carry one to full term, Alex,” said Lady Rolande. “You cannot imagine how I despaired of ever having a child that lived. Hedra means everything to me.”

  “It was a miscarriage of justice not to have miscarried her,” said Shackel, “you should have aborted her.”

  “Take care Alex. I don't allow jokes where Hedra is concerned.”

  “I’m deeply touched. However, I was not joking. But since the subject of your silly daughter brings on only ennui, I cannot imagine how she can hope for a proposal from Arandale. Were I Arandale, I would as soon propose to a goat.”

  “And what is it you wanted from me,” asked Lady Rolande, frowning at his words. She firmly believed Hedra to be a diamond of the first water, so his words slid off her like water on a duck’s back.

  “I require an invitation to Lord Belvedere’s ball. He has some kind of peeve against me over a card game. Do you think you can smooth things over and get the invitation for me? The ball is the one following the next Almack’s ball, on Thursday next.”

  “Yes, we have invitations for that ball, too. But what is your interest in it, Alex?”

  “The whole world will find out about the Miss Sentenell’s rejection of Arandale by the Almack’s ball. I intend to make my move in courting her at the Belvedere ball.”