ToLoveaLady

by Cynthia Sterling

  Still smiling, Charles descended the steps and rejoined Cecily. “You were wonderful!” she said.

  He shrugged. “It was nothing.”

  Gerald Adkins shoved toward him. “Good job, Worthington,” he said. “Maybe you ought to consider a run for state office.”

  “You’re forgetting I’m still a British citizen,” Charles said.

  Adkins looked disappointed. “I’d forgotten about that. Still, you’ve got a knack for politics. You ought to consider it.”

  “I agree,” Cecily said. “You’ll take the House of Lords by storm when it’s time to assume your father’s seat.”

  “If I take my father’s seat.”

  Cecily didn’t have time to contemplate this strange comment. Hattie Simms was already introducing her and her pupils. “Among the many programs we hope to offer at the Academy is a program of adult education,” Hattie said. “This will allow older students to further themselves through classes to be offered in evening hours. To demonstrate the possibilities these classes offer, I’d like to introduce two pupils who have recently learned to read, thanks to Lady Cecily Thorndale.”

  The applause was a white roar in Cecily’s ears as she mounted the steps, legs shaking, and took her place by Hattie. She’d meant to make a nice speech thanking everyone for their hospitality and praising her pupils, but words deserted her as she gazed out across the hundreds of people crowded around them. Heart pounding as though it might burst, she could only motion toward the other women. “Ladies and gentlemen, Fifi Simmons and Estelle Green,” she squeaked.

  A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd as Fifi and Estelle took center stage. Estelle glared at the audience, while Fifi shrank back. Oh God, what had she been thinking, agreeing to do this? Cecily thought. She forced herself to take a deep breath. She had gotten Estelle and Fifi into this; she couldn’t abandon them now. With what she hoped was an encouraging smile, she nodded for them to begin.

  They’d chosen to read a scene from Romeo and Juliet. The story had captured their imaginations, and the part of nurse and Juliet seemed tailor-made for their talents. Estelle played nurse to Fifi’s Juliet, putting their all into the teasing banter:

  “Now, good sweet nurse, O Lord, why look’st thou sad?” Fifi, as Juliet read. “Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news by playing it to me with so sour a face.”

  Estelle made a face that brought laughter from the crowd. “I am a-weary, give me leave awhile,” she read. “Fie! How my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had.”

  “I would thou had my bones, and I thy news,” Fifi read. “Nay, come, I pray thee, speak, good, good nurse, speak.”

  “Jesu, what haste? Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath?”

  Hands on hips, Fifi looked thoroughly put-out. “How are thou out of breath, when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay is longer than the tale thou dost excuse!”

  More laughter from the crowd, and nods of approval from some. Joy rushed in to chase away the vise-like tension in Cecily’s chest. With growing confidence, the women continued:

  “Here’s such a coil!” Fifi read. “Come, what says Romeo?”

  “Have you got leave to go to shrift today?”

  “I have.”

  “Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence’s cell. There stays a husband to make you wife.”

  Estelle’s voice soared in velvet notes, while Fifi’s more delicate tone provided the perfect counterbalance. Their faces conveyed every nuance of emotion in the scene, and Cecily was sure she was not the only one in the crowd with a lump in her throat at the reading’s end.

  “Hie you to church, I must another way,” Estelle declared. “To fetch a ladder, by which your love must climb a bird’s nest soon when it is dark.”

  Fifi’s Juliet gathered her skirts as if to flee. “Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell.”

  There was a moment of hesitation, then someone began to applaud, joined by others, and still others. “Who would have thought such a thing?” someone murmured.

  “It looks like they’ve reformed for sure,” another said.

  Cecily followed Fifi and her pupils down the steps. Whether or not Fifi and Estelle decided to give up working for Madame LeFleur remained to be seen. They had so far given no indication that they intended to leave. But reform had not been her goal in teaching them to read. Whether they continued in their present line of work mattered not; at least now, they had choices.

  Local and county dignitaries joined Hattie and her father on the steps of the new building and everyone cheered as Hattie sliced through the blue ribbon stretched across the front doors. Then everyone was invited to tour the new facility. Charles and Cecily started up the steps again, but Sheriff Grady moved over to block their way. “I suppose you think your money can buy your way out of trouble, don’t you?” He curled and uncurled his hands into fists as he spoke. Alarmed, Cecily wondered if he intended to strike Charles. “Well I got news for you, Worthington,” the sheriff continued. “I’m not for sale.”

  Cecily felt Charles’ hand tighten on her arm. “What are you talking about, Grady?”

  “I’m talking about you throwing your weight around like you own the place.” The sheriff raised his voice, so that everyone around them turned to watch. “This ain’t England, Lord Silsbee. You may have these other folks snowed, but you don’t fool me. I know what you’re up to.”

  Cecily watched the sheriff in alarm. She had never seen him so angry. His face flushed red and his moustache twitched in agitation. Had he gone mad? “Sheriff, perhaps you should sit down a moment and calm yourself,” she said.

  “You!” Grady turned his wrath on her. “Do you really think you can pull the wool over my eyes and make me think those women have turned respectable?”

  “Your opinion doesn’t concern me in the least,” Cecily sniffed. Really, the man was quite annoying.

  “Grady, I’ll thank you to step aside and stop harassing Lady Thorndale,” Charles tried to move between them, but Grady blocked him.

  “I don’t care if she’s the queen of England, my opinion ought to matter to her,” the sheriff said. “I’m the law here, and I intend to uphold the law, no matter how you try to stop me.”

  Charles raised his head and addressed the sheriff in his most imperious tone. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to call in at your office and make a report. Two dozen calves I bought from Alan and Bryce Mitchell went missing last week. Do you have any leads as to their whereabouts?”

  Grady’s expression darkened. “I’m working on it, Worthington.” He straightened. “I suggest you do your job and leave me to mine.” With a curt nod, he stalked away.

  “Charles, I didn’t know some of your cattle had been stolen,” Cecily said when the sheriff was out of sight. “When did this happen?”

  “Some time last week.” He took her arm and led her through the crowd, around the side of the building.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  He looked surprised. “Tell you? I suppose I didn’t think you’d be interested.” He patted her arm. “Of course I would have told you if there’d been any danger, but I’m sure the thief is only after cattle.”

  Did Charles think her so shallow that she would only be concerned about her own safety? What about Charles’ safety? Or the safety of his property? “I have told you before, Charles, I am not some frail child whose only concern in life is pouring tea and buying new gowns. I am interested in your work and what goes on at the ranch.”

  He looked confused. “Yes, Cecily, I’m sure you are. But there’s really nothing to discuss. The cattle are missing. I don’t see what you could do about it.”

  I could be here for you to talk to, she thought. I could share the burden of worry with you. She squeezed his arm, fighting the urge to flail at him in frustration. I’m not an idiot. I have a good mind. Maybe I could see something,
some clue, that would lead to a solution of the problem. But obviously, Charles could never see her that way. Had their upbringings absolutely spoiled them for each other forever?

  Someone began to play music. They followed the sound to a large ballroom in the Academy. The unfinished room lacked wallpaper or chandelier, but the rough wooden floor had been covered with a canvas sheet to provide a dancing surface, and a makeshift stage had been erected at one end for the musicians.

  Cecily didn’t feel like dancing now, though she thought it would be interesting to watch. But when the music began, instead of dancing, people began to sing. The songs were patriotic, about Texas and freedom. As she listened to song after song, and heard the people all around them joining in, she felt lost and out of place. She glanced at Charles. Did he feel it too, this homesickness that almost overwhelmed her, a longing for that which was familiar and dear?

  An old man in starched shirt and overalls moved to the front of the stage and began to play a violin, and a younger man beside him sang:

  “The bright light was shining in heaven. The stars were all twinkly and blue; the soft bonnie breeze of the twilight reminds me, my dear one, of you. Last night as we parted in sorrow, with heavy hearts hasting away, you promised, my darling, to meet me, to give me your answer today.”

  All around them, voices joined in on the chorus. Cecily listened to the haunting words and felt a heavy sadness. “Give me your answer, Lorene, today; Say you’ll be mine, love. Don’t turn away. You are my angel, my star, my queen; Give me your answer today, sweet Lorene.”

  She turned away, thinking she must leave the room or disgrace herself by bursting into tears. A hand on her arm stopped her, and she heard Charles’ voice, soft in her ears. “Come walking with me,” he said.

  * * *

  The plaintive strains of the violin followed Charles and Cecily out of the building and across the grounds. All the sadness and longing he felt was distilled in that melancholy tune, reminding him that, try as he might to pretend the pain didn’t exist, it lingered still, sharp and stinging.

  “Where are we going?” Cecily asked when they had walked to the courthouse square.

  He put his hands in his pockets. “Nowhere in particular. I just wanted some fresh air.” He glanced at her, struck by how at home she seemed in this setting. The incessant wind had loosed tendrils of her hair and the sun had raised a dusting of freckles across her cheeks. In a pretty, but practical gray walking suit and feather-trimmed bonnet, any of her drawing-room contemporaries in England might have taken her for a rancher’s wife. When had the frail flower he’d known been replaced by this capable woman?

  She flushed and looked away. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “My apologies.” He ducked his head. “I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  About how, if love is this desperate confusion I feel when I’m with you, then I must be in love. I don’t know which way to turn next. I don’t like it, but I don’t want it to end if it means not seeing you again. “You did a fine job with Estelle and Fifi,” he said. “Everyone was impressed. I was impressed.”

  She didn’t quite smile, but she looked pleased. “I was very proud of them.” They walked a little further, neither looking at the other, but Charles could have told anyone who asked how many steps she took, how many times she drew breath, or how often her heart beat. “I think I have a real talent for teaching,” she said after a moment.

  “I agree.”

  “You do?”

  He cringed at the amazement in her voice. Did she think him so self-centered that he hadn’t noticed the skills she had developed? “You obviously have a knack for it,” he said.

  “I’ve applied to the Academy for a position teaching there this summer. Hattie has promised to help me. The demonstration today is supposed to convince the rest of the board.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

  The news took him by surprise, but he tried not to show it. If this was what she wanted to do, who was he to argue? Titled ladies didn’t normally take employment in England, but then, heirs to earldoms seldom got their hands dirty with real work the way he had since coming to Texas. “I take it this means you’ve decided to stay in Texas.”

  “For a while, at least.” They reached the buggy and she stopped beside it. “I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality too long, I know. As soon as I’m able, I’ll find other quarters.”

  “No.” The thought of her moving out panicked him. “That won’t be necessary, I assure you.”

  She flushed. “But Charles, we can’t keep living in the same house, now that. . . now that we’re no longer engaged.” She tugged at the ring on her finger, the sapphire and pearl band that had been in his family for four generations. “I really should return this also.”

  “No!” He took hold of her hands to keep her from removing the ring. He wanted her to stop moving, to stop talking, to stop thinking, so he did the only thing he knew to shut her up. He pulled her close and kissed her.

  No gentle caress, this kiss sought to force all sense and reason from her mind. He wanted to put aside logic and facts and replace them with animal feeling, to touch that wild, undisciplined part of her that spoke a more primitive language than fancy sentiments or proper manners could ever communicate.

  She gasped, whether in protest or pleasure he didn’t know or care. He cradled her head in his hand and plundered her mouth with his tongue, every part of him telegraphing his need for her, every nerve attuned to her response.

  A memory of that first day flashed through his mind, when he’d kissed her by the water tank, seeking to drive her away. Now he sought only to keep her with him. Relief and triumph surged through him as she relaxed against him, returning the pressure of his lips on hers. This is what he should have done sooner. He would take her home and make love to her into the night, make her see that his feelings went deeper than his clumsy words could convey.

  “Hrrmph!” The sound of someone clearing their throat was loud as a firecracker in his ear.

  Cecily tried to jerk away, but he held her fast and raised his head to confront the interloper. “What do you want?”

  A wooden-faced Gordon addressed the ground. “Excuse me m’lord, but there is someone here to see you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me, Charles?” The voice conjured up memories of racing over country lanes, hatching plots in school rooms and whispered confidences in the dark of night. A broad-shouldered figure stepped out of the shadows. “I say, big brother, don’t you remember me?”

  Too dazed to protest, he allowed Cecily to free herself from his grasp. “Reg, what are you doing here?” he managed to ask.

  Reg looked grim. “Duty calls, brother dear. Father sent me to fetch you home.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charles’s first thought was that it would be a cold day in hell before he allowed his brother to drag him home, like some runaway dog. He would have said as much, but the look on Reg’s face told him this trip had not been his sibling’s idea. So instead of scolding, he grabbed hold of Reg’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Regardless of what brings you here, it’s good to see you.”

  “Texas must agree with you.” Reg returned the handshake and pounded him on the back as well. “You’re looking hale and hearty.”

  He wished he could have said the same about his brother, but the truth was Reg looked worn and weary. He was thinner than Charles remembered, with lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “What have you been up to?” he asked. “Last I heard, it was a tea plantation in India.”

  A haunted look crept into Reg’s eyes. “Washed away in a monsoon. My plans there washed away along with it.”

  A delicate sneeze reminded Charles they were not alone. He turned to Cecily. “Cecily, you remember my brother, Reg. Reg, of course you know Cecily Thorndale.”

  “Lady Thorndale.” Reg flashed a dazzling smile and bowed
formally. “I must say, you’ve grown up a bit since I saw you last.”

  The smile she gave him was so full of warmth and welcome it made Charles’s heart ache. “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?” she said. “I believe you had just accepted a commission into the Navy when I saw you last.”

  The smile scarcely wavered, but the lines around his eyes deepened. “That seems a lifetime ago.” He stepped back. “And look at you now. Who would have thought the skinny hoyden racing after us boys would grow up to be such a fine young woman?”

  This compliment seemed to make her happier than anything Charles had ever said to her. Reg had always had a way with the ladies; that Cecily should succumb to his charms within five minutes of seeing him again made Charles ill-tempered and impatient. “Why don’t we continue our visit at the ranch?” He started to assist Cecily into the buggy, but Reg was there first, bowing and scraping like some damned knight in armor, and she was taking it all in like the Queen herself.

  Once seated, she arranged her skirts, then looked around. “I wonder if I should send someone to fetch Alice?”

  “I believe she is with young Bainbridge, m’lady,” Gordon said. “I’m sure he’ll see her safely back to the ranch.”

  “Yes, I imagine you’re right.”

  “Get in, Gordon.” Charles settled into the driver’s seat and took the reins. “I’ll drive.”

  “Begging your pardon m’lord, but I would like to stay in town a while longer.” Gordon glanced at Reg. “That is, if Mr. Reginald has his own man here to see to him.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve looked after myself for years.” Reg waved the valet away.

  “My lord?” Gordon looked to Charles.

  “Yes, yes, that’s fine. Reg and I will manage just fine.”

  “Enjoy yourself with your young lady.” Reg called as Gordon headed back across the square.

  “Young lady?” Charles gave his brother a questioning look.