by Gloria Gay
Cecilia turned away. The cold shaft in Arandale's eyes that cut through her was unmistakable. Gone was the helpful gentleman she had known at The Blue Raven Inn. In its place was now this cold stranger that quite obviously had taken the words of that hateful bulletin as the truth. Well, so much for her father's hope that Arandale had not taken the column seriously, thought Cecilia. Her heart hammered under its silk confines so that it seemed it would burst. She had not known how much Arandale's aloofness would hurt. Now she had indisputable proof that her treacherous heart had fallen for Arandale at exactly the moment when he had taken a healthy dislike of her.
“Whatwhat was that, Martha? I'm sorry, my dear, I'm afraid my mind was wandering.”
“I was just telling your father that we should get some refreshment. The air is stifling. The windows all seem to be closed!”
“I believe they are open, Martha. It's just that there are so many people.”
“No, dear, but just look,” she said as they had walked over to the side, “this closing up of the ballroom as though it were a sarcophagus can only mean one thing.”
“That the Prince is arriving,” said Cecilia, glad that the commotion of the Prince's arrival would distract her from her hurtful thoughts, “for he falls ill at the merest draft and he must save his strength for his Brighton nights.”
“Cecilia, take care. It would not do to be heard criticizing his Highness. You are merely a debutante. You must watch your language.”
“But see, Sir Geoffrey, there is his Highness arriving!”
A booming voice announced the Prince Regent and his entourage and Cecilia took this distraction to move away with her father and Martha toward a room that seemed to have a window partly open. She settled Sir Geoffrey and Martha on a settee, by the window.
“Stay with Papa, Martha,” she told her companion, “I much prefer to procure our refreshments. I can manage. I cannot but be wary of how this stifled atmosphere can only weaken Papa. At least by this partly open window he can breathe.
“All right, my dear,” said Martha, “I believe you are right. But do hurry, for I believe the cotillion is about to begin.”
“Never mind that, Martha,” said Cecilia hurriedly, “for my card is not signed for the cotillion, so I do not have to hurry.”
CHAPTER 35
As Cecilia worked her way toward the room where the refreshments were held a voice behind her arrested her step.
“Miss Sentenell!”
“Mr. Shackel!”
“What a happy coincidence to run into you when I was looking for you.”
“You were looking for me?” asked Cecilia faintly,
“Yes,” added Shackel, taking the dance card from her hand.
“I particularly wanted to dance the opening number with you, my dear. Lady Rolande has assured me you would grant it to me, as you so cordially granted me the third dance.”
He scribbled his name in the first slot as Cecilia stared.
“I“
“It's to begin soon,” said Shackel as he took Cecilia's arm. Cecilia felt an unpleasant pressure on her arm and as she extricated herself from Shackel's hand she heard him say,
“Lady Rolande has also assured me that my efforts on behalf of your father, Cousin Geoffrey, in the procurement of his medicine, would no doubt elicit only gratitude from you.”
“The medicine?” asked Cecilia.
“Did you not know it is I who procures the medicine for Lady Rolande and she, in turn, provides it to your father?”
“I—she may have mentioned it.”
“Well, it is so. You can confirm it with her. There, the music is about to start.”
Cecilia tried to speak but her throat was closed up and no words came out.
“Well, we must hurry and take the refreshments to Sir Geoffrey and Mrs. Bedder if we are to be back in time for the opening dance, Miss Sentenell.”
Like an automaton, Cecilia went to the refreshment room with Alex Shackel and returned to where her father and Martha were with the refreshments.
“My dear“ Martha's voice was arrested in her throat on seeing that Shackel was behind Cecilia.
She glanced quickly at Cecilia, raising her eyebrows.
“Sir Geoffrey, Mrs. Bedder,” said Shackel in greeting. “Miss Sentenell has graciously allotted me the opening dance as well as the third waltz. We must rush off, as the first strands are beginning. It is said that his Highness is to dance the opening number with Lady Belvedere. We must not miss this event, Miss Sentenell.”
Shackel led Cecilia out of the room and toward the ballroom. As she left, Cecilia managed a backward glance toward Martha that spoke volumes.
“I cannot but be wary of your cousin, Geoffrey,” Martha said turning to her cousin, “a most unpleasant man if I ever saw one. A pity he is your heir. A more undeserving creature I have yet to see.”
“Yes. Papa would turn in his grave if he saw who is to inherit Brintelway Hall. He disliked the Shackels.”
“Is there nothing that can be done?'
“Nothing at all. The place is entailed and Alex is the next in line. After Alex is a cousin of Guy Lindemere.”
“Why did your father dislike Alex, Geoffrey?”
“I don't know much about Alex only that Papa predicted he would be a wastrel when he grew up.”
“But it is not so, is it? He doesn't seem to be a drinker. A gambler perhaps, although gossip would carry well enough if he gambled beyond his means, would it not?”
“Not necessarily,” said Sir Geoffrey. “There are some closed gaming groups. You hear about them now and then, mostly when some bad debt ends in a duel or a suicide.”
“It is the scourge of our age,” said Martha and glanced toward the door and beyond to the ballroom.
“Perhaps you might want to get closer to Ceci, Martha. You can leave me here. I shall be just fine.”
“Well, perhaps I might, only for a moment. I did promise Cecilia I would stay close to you.”
“Ceci worries unnecessarily,” said Sir Geoffrey. “Go on, Martha. I shall be just fine. There are hundreds of people here if I should need help. I can call out to any one of them and I much prefer that you bring back Ceci when she finishes her dance with Shackel.”
“All right. I, too, want to see that she is doing well,” Martha agreed.
Cecilia danced the opening cotillion with Shackel almost unaware that she was doing so. Her mind was taken over completely by Arandale and his impression of her. And just as they neared the middle of the dance floor she passed by where Arandale was, standing alone. He looked directly at her and then he looked away.
Shackel tried to draw her into conversation but Cecilia hardly answered, wishing the long dance to end. Finally, the dance finally came to its end. And when Shackel was about to guide Cecilia across the ballroom crowded with at least a hundred couples, Cecilia, with a quick word saying she must get back to her father, disappeared in the throng.
She saw a door to the darkened terrace and the promise of a few gulps of fresh air made her almost run toward it. She finally reached it and slipped out into the shadows, running smack into Lord Arandale's chest. The buttons of his vest had cut into her as she had collided into him. She looked up at him, startled. So close to him she was that she could feel his breath. Curiously, she didn't pull away.
“Miss Sentenell,” Arandale said in an icy voice, “was dancing with Shackel so horrible you must seek some air to calm down?”
“I“
“I must point out, though, that you jumped from the pan to the fire,” and in so saying, Arandale's arms locked around her and in the empty dark terrace, he leaned toward her and his lips sought hers. Cecilia's quick intake of breath made her gasp for air as his mouth brushed over her lips but did not touch them, so that Cecilia felt only the warmth of his lips. The experience was electric for Cecilia, more so than if it had been a full kiss. Her knees almost buckled as Arandale pulled his head back and in the glimmering moon and the light fro
m a torch that was in the corner of the dark terrace,Cecilia saw his eyes, dark silvery gray, deep with secrets andpain?
Was that pain in the shadows of his eyes? Why did she see pain in his eyes under the moonlight, and at a ball of all things? Had that muted sorrow been in his eyes all the time and only now she saw it? She realized that it had been there in the numerous times when he had spoken lightly on fleeting subjects, when he had laughed or commented. Each and every time the pain behind the mocking, arrogant eyes had been there and it was only now she saw it.
Arandale spoke again, but just barely. He said something about the moonlight being made for mischief. Then slowly, he removed the glove on Cecilia's right hand and put it in his pocket. Then he turned her hand over. He leaned down and brushed his lips to her wrist and then looked up and into her eyes, still holding her hand so that Cecilia was feeling sparks radiating from her hand and down throughout her body.
Then Arandale leaned again and once more sought Cecilia's mouth. But this time Cecilia was not startled and joined him willingly. Reckless for the first time in her life, she plunged headlong toward the peril that seemed to be at the edge of his kiss. A sexual tugging pulled from deep inside her and rippled throughout her. Such was his kissedgy, dangerous, beckoning, and so heady that had she not been in his arms she would have fallen backwards. She felt as though she was at the edge of a cliff and in danger of toppling, with her feet barely making traction to hold her back.
Again and again he kissed her, each time harder than the last, so that Cecilia wanted nothing in life now but to be in that kissalways. He probed the edge of the inside of her lip with his tongue and then slowly thrust his tongue inside her mouth. She was startled, for she didn't even know such a thing was done while kissing. Yet her surprise was momentary only, for she realized with a sense of wonder that she wanted more and more of it as sparks shot out through her veins and on the surface of her skin. She shifted her body so that she was even closer, if that were possible.
She shivered as she felt his hands on the contour of her back and her shoulders, going up and down, each time holding her closer to him so that she felt the beat of his heart. Under his hands she felt her skin as satin and her hair as silk. Never had she felt as desired as she now felt. Her head was reeling and a delicious sense of belonging within Arandale's tight embrace rippled through her. So natural she felt within the circle of his arms and against his chest that she realized suddenly that she could never have enough of him. And with a sudden awareness that slammed into her and hurt throughout her body, she realized with an arresting sense of grief that she had fallen in love with a man she hardly knew.
Arandale pulled down her sleeve and kissed her shoulder. Her skin felt like a cauldron under his incendiary touch. Sighing, she opened her eyes.
Suddenly the image of her father popped before her. Duty beckoned now with a stronger hand as the thought of her ill father and how much he needed her made her feel guilty.
The haunting moonlight disappeared behind a great cloud, like gossamer flown away by a breeze. Now only the darkness of the terrace remained. A sliver of the cold silver moon peeked from behind the dark cloud, like the round face of a stern headmistress, reminding her of her duty.
“Lord ArandaleI“ Cecilia pulled away.
“Miss Sentenell has come back to her senses?” asked Arandale. “But Miss Sentenell has been a sensible girl throughout her life. She would not, as she assured that person at the Times, engage to marry a rake such as myself, not even if her life depended upon it.” His voice, which had become soft as he had whispered endearments was now as hard and cold as the terrace balustrade where she now rested her hand, to steady herself.
“Did you not assure me that what transpired between us would not be spread for the ton's review, Miss Sentenell? Now I find that not only did you tell them of my courtship of you and my proposal of marriage, but also reveled in giving out details of your rejection. Did you enjoy pondering the embarrassment you knew it would cause? Did you for a moment think that a cheap trick could only offend?”
“I“ Cecilia felt her throat close and she was unable to say a word. She swallowed hard and saw Lord Arandale smile. She could feel his contempt of her in that look.
CHAPTER 36
“I must return to the ballroom, Papa will be worried.”
“Allow me,” said Arandale in an icy voice as he gave her his arm.
They walked along the side of the imposing vast ballroom with its high scrolled ceiling and columned entrances to the hall and to other rooms. Wine-colored velvet curtains, held back with enormous gold tassels fell heavily from doorways. Cecilia gazed in silence at the dancing couples as they headed toward the room where Cecilia had left her father.
Before they reached Sir Geoffrey and Martha Bedder, Arandale stopped for a moment. He then took Cecilia's small dance card that hung from a ribbon at her waist and taking the small pencil, scribbled his name hurriedly in the last two slots. He bowed to Sir Geoffrey, then to Mrs. Bedder and finally to Cecilia.
“Miss Sentenell, I shall see you again, shortly.”
“What did he mean by that, Cecilia?” asked Martha, all agog, “and where is your glove?”
“Oh, I must have dropped it,” said Cecilia, as still in a daze she looked down at her gloveless hand.
“It looks odd,” said Martha, “with only one glove. Here, Cecilia, let me help you take off the other one.”
“Are you to dance with Lord Arandale?” asked Sir Geoffrey.
“Yes, Papa. He wrote his name in the last two waltzes, and I can't imagine why, after the way he scowled at me.”
“Does this mean that he does not take into account the gossip column, my dear?” Asked Sir Geoffrey, his voice hopeful.
“Oh, he takes it into account all right, he all but shouted it at me.”
“Oh, my,” said Sir Geoffrey. “Were you able to explain that it was not you who gave that information?”
“Papa, he didn't give me a chance. But since he is to dance with me, perhaps I can find my voice and explain to him. My throat closed up at his look and I was unable to say a word. He took my silence as an admission of guilt.”
“Where were you, my dear,” said Martha, “I must confess we were beginning to worry.”
“I was dancing with Shackel and then ran into Lord Arandale.”
“I am glad of that,” said Sir Geoffrey. “Such a commanding presence Lord Arandale has.”
“Commanding is the very word I would have used,” said Cecilia.
“There is Lady Rolande, my dear, and Hedra!”
“So they are,” said Cecilia, “and they are coming this way, unfortunately.”
“Ceci!”
“Yes, Papa, I'll behave, but just barely.”
“Sir Geoffrey, you are looking well, I am happy to acknowledge,” said Lady Rolande. She was wearing a handsome emerald silk ball gown and a violet turban. The turban had appliques of emerald buds, matching the silk of her gown. She looked arresting, with her dark arched brows above her light blue eyes. Cecilia was certain she was wearing rouge on her cheeks and salve on her lips and that she ringed her eyes with kohl.
“Yes, my lady,” said Sir Geoffrey, rising with difficulty and kissed the extended hand.
“Do sit down, Sir Geoffrey. I cannot be responsible for your discomfort.”
Sir Geoffrey resumed his seat and Lady Rolande turned to Hedra.
“Does not my daughter look a beauty tonight, Sir Geoffrey?”
“Yes. Very handsome, indeed,” said Sir Geoffrey, absently.
Hedra had her hair a la Greque and wore a wreath of gold rosebuds on a gold band that circled her ringlets. Her cream ball gown with a diaphanous pale yellow tunic over it, embroidered with gold thread, was highly dampened so that a shadow of her figure within was visible. She wore gold slippers with pearl-studded buckles.
“My dear, sweet Cecilia,” said Hedra, encircling Cecilia's waist. “I have been in mourning without you, and had not
Mama already leased the house, I would have persuaded her that we should move back with you, for I do miss you outrageously. Do I not, Mama?”
“Yes, my sweet, you do miss her and it does you great credit as a friend. Dear Cecilia, say the word and I shall send Hedra back with you for part of the season.”
Heaven forbid, thought Cecilia, and did not say the word.
“Your gown is quite an accomplishment, Lady Rolande,” said Cecilia. “That shade of emerald is very flattering to your complexion.”
“Yes, my dear, I have been told so not a very few times, indeed. For such reason I try to find silk in just this exact shade for the occasions such as this, when the Prince is in attendance.”
“I'm afraid he has come and gone, my lady,” said Cecilia.
“Already? But I did look forward to a view of him and perhaps that he should notice my Hedra, for she is a sight to behold.”
Hedra grabbed Cecilia's dance card and ran her eyes quickly down it. “There are so many empty slots, dearest, divine Cecilia! But what is this, Lord Arandale in the last two waltzes? Cecilia, had not you promised that you would not encourage his attentions, knowing how attracted I am to him?”
“I remember making no such promise, Hedra.”
“Mama, my most valued witness, bear me out, did not Cecilia promise me that?”
“Children, do stop bickering. I cannot be witness to that, dear Hedra. If Cecilia wishes to dance with Lord Arandale she should do so by all means. But on the other hand, she should realize that Lord Arandale is married to a grave.”
“Married to a grave?” asked both girls at once.
“I confess I did not know it until yesterday,” said Lady Rolande, reveling in the way both Cecilia and Hedra, and even Sir Geoffrey and Martha Bedder stood in rapt attention. She pressed the patch beneath her eye, a half moon, pausing for effect. “Although, I am told, it's common knowledge…”