Even so, her heart beat slightly faster as her imagination began running off on a tangent. If she were to be so bold as to brush back his hair, what would stop her from briefly cupping his jaw and feeling the heat of his skin and the faint roughness of the stubble that had grown since he’d last shaved?
Cecilia shook her head, forcing herself to break free of the fantasy. If these weren’t thoughts of wanton behavior, what were?
“Five chairs, you say?” Father repeated. “So your friend will join us? That should be fine.” Then he frowned and glanced doubtfully at his wife. “Does that sit well with you, my dear?”
Sit well. On chairs. Cecilia smirked. Had Father noticed his own pun? Now Devin was giving her a strange look. Drat.
“Oh, do stop fussing,” Mother snapped. “Of course it’s fine. Mr. Montlake has been most considerate.” Mother gave him a stiff smile.
Cecilia tried to hide her dismay at the sharp tone Mother used, because her peevishness was a sure indicator that she was already beginning to tire. Cecilia looked at her more closely and noted how pale she seemed in the glow of the gas chandelier. Her skin was almost translucent.
Father and Mother would leave for Cannes in just a month. Everyone avoided using the word “consumption,” but that’s what she had. And there was no cure. But even so, living in a mild climate was said to help considerably.
Cecilia knew better than to try to convince Mother to return to her room. She might be ill, but she had the determination of one of Father’s foxhounds once it had caught a scent.
“Why don’t we join Mr. Raven?” Cecilia said instead. “I, for one, would love a glass of punch.” The sooner Mother sat down, the better.
Devin offered her his arm and she slid her gloved hand through it, resting her fingertips along his forearm and enjoying both the heat radiating from him and the texture of his evening coat. Perhaps these mesh gloves really were decadent.
As Devin led them across the room, she saw Leeland Raven watching them. She’d met him in London last season, and apparently, Devin knew him rather well. The man had such a lighthearted disposition and pale hair that he was, in many ways, the antithesis of Devin. She’d always thought it odd that a man named Raven would have such pale hair. Maybe some fey creature had replaced the real Leeland Raven with a pale-haired fairy child. She smiled at the thought.
“Good evening,” Mr. Raven said, rising to his feet. His gaze focused on Cecilia’s smile and he returned it.
They greeted one another and, despite her earlier protests, Mother willingly took a seat.
“Miss Paring, are you free for this next dance?” Mr. Raven asked. “Because I hoped you’d do me the honor of being my partner.”
Devin’s expression remained stoic, but Cecilia saw the small muscle in his jaw tense. Had he planned to claim the first dance with her? Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. She couldn’t refuse Leeland Raven. It would be abominably rude. Comportment lessons, indeed.
“Yes, I’m free,” Cecilia said. “I’d be delighted.” She checked her dance card. “Oh, and look, Mr. Raven. The next dance is a waltz.”
Devin cleared his throat. “Would you do me the honor of putting me down for the following waltz?”
Cecilia smiled and nodded, quickly penciling both Mr. Raven’s and Devin’s names on her dance card.
A moment later, the first notes of music began playing, and Mr. Raven offered her his hand. Once she took it, he immediately wheeled her out onto the dance floor. His right hand rested lightly on her waist as he led her through the graceful one-two-three rhythm.
“You look lovely tonight, Miss Paring.”
“Thank you, Mr. Raven,” she said, blushing at the compliment.
“I know we only met each other a few months ago, but I hadn’t realized that you and Devin knew one another, let alone that you were engaged. He’s been rather closed-mouthed about it.”
“He never said a word?” The polite smile she’d been wearing felt stiff. She glanced back at Devin, past the other dancers. He’d never even spoken of her?
“But then again, Montlake and I don’t run across each other very often,” Mr. Raven added, obviously wishing he hadn’t said anything. “London is such a big city.”
The tension in her cheeks eased as her smile faded. Devin was a rational and dependable man who was never given to indiscretion. That might not sound like the most flattering way to describe one’s fiancé, but when Cecilia had been younger, those had been the most desirable traits she could imagine. Long ago, she’d decided she wanted someone she could count on. Someone strong and reliable.
Someone who was the opposite of her father.
Someone like Devin. Had that simply been a childish fantasy?
“Have you known Montlake long?” Raven asked.
“Almost since I was born,” Cecilia said. She glanced across the room, trying to find Devin again, but since she and Mr. Raven were waltzing, they had traveled to the far end of the ballroom, and she couldn’t spot Devin. “Our country homes were near one another, and we frequently attended the same social events while we were growing up.” He’d always been the one to come to her rescue and pull her out of her many scrapes. He’d been her hero. Her champion. She tipped her head back to glance up at Raven. “And you? Did you first meet him in London?”
“No, at Oxford.”
“You were a student there?” That startled her. Mr. Raven had never impressed her as being the studious type.
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t sound so surprised. We were both in Balliol College. We had some law classes together. Montlake was brilliant. The best in the class. He’s an amazing barrister, and he’ll make a fair and just judge.”
A flash of pride flared within Cecilia. She admired Devin, she always had, but she couldn’t help feeling pleased that Mr. Raven held a similar opinion. “And you? Are you a barrister as well?”
“No, I’m a solicitor. I prefer working with people to arguing points of law in court.”
“I would feel the same way,” she replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Although I don’t see that drawing up legal papers would be much of an improvement over debating the law.”
“Ah, yes, but at least I have the opportunity to work with many different people from all walks of life. Poor Montlake only has judges, solicitors, and other barristers to associate with. Take my word for it, they’re a stodgy lot.”
Cecilia laughed. “So I’ve noticed.”
“You’re sure to liven things up once you become Mrs. Montlake. Those humdrums won’t know what to make of you.”
Cecilia’s smile fell. “That’s exactly what worries me. I’m not entirely certain I’m cut out to be a barrister’s wife.” She fixed her gaze on his lapel, not wanting to see the agreement she knew would be on his face.
“Don’t talk that way,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “You’re bound to liven up those bores. They need someone like you to keep them from putting each other to sleep.”
She tried to meet his gaze, but couldn’t. “I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am. You’re good for Montlake. I see the change in him when you’re around.” He lifted his gaze as he sought out something across the room. “Did you know he hasn’t taken his eyes off us since we stepped onto the dance floor?”
Her mouth opened to protest, but then she realized he must be looking over the other dancers’ heads at Devin. It must be nice to be so tall.
He glanced down at her and grinned. “If his family knew he was being so obvious in showing his affection for you, they’d be appalled. It bears repeating…you’re good for him.”
“They don’t approve of me,” she muttered. “They never have. They think I’m a hoyden.”
“His parents? Then they don’t know a good thing when they see it. You make him happy. That’s what matters.”
Cecilia couldn’t stifle her snort of disbelief. She was snorting altogether too much tonight. “Not to them
, but I thank you for your kind words.”
The waltz came to an end, and they drifted to a stop, but Mr. Raven didn’t release her. “Don’t disparage yourself. There are enough hurtful people in the world who will gladly do it for you. There’s no reason to help them.”
She glanced away. He was right, of course. Wasn’t he? Despite her confidence in Devin’s noble nature, she couldn’t stop the niggling self-doubt that kept creeping into her thoughts. She wasn’t convinced that Devin still truly wanted to marry her, and until she was, she’d never be completely at ease with her decision.
Devin tracked her approach, and she immediately knew that he’d been watching them dance, just as Mr. Raven had said.
“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Devin asked her.
She looked at him blankly for a moment before comprehension dawned on her. “Do you mean the auction?” She almost said ‘no,’ but then remembered her role tonight. She was supposed to be happy about the auction. So she’d be happy. “I suppose so. I’ve never been to one as glamorous as this before. I’ve only attended little country auctions. I wonder how different it will be to hear jewels being bid on rather than horses.”
One corner of Devin’s mouth tilted up in a half smile. “I imagine the bids will go much higher than they would for a plow horse.”
She gave a slight shrug with one shoulder as though she didn’t really care. “Probably. Father’s counting on it being a success. He invited everyone he thought would be interested in attending tomorrow’s auction to come to the ball.”
Devin indicated the crowded ballroom with a jerk of his chin. “Judging by the number of people here, the auction is certain to be well attended.”
“I hope so,” she said, turning to sit next to her mother. “I just want it over with.”
“Cecilia, for shame,” her mother scolded. “You know how important it is. We’re doing this all for you, my dear.”
She whipped her hand up to cover her mouth as she widened her eyes. “Was that indiscreet? I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t have been so…I don’t know,” she said, searching for the right word, “so thoughtless.”
Her mother snapped open her fan and began fluttering it. “You need to learn to be more circumspect.”
Another of Devin’s acquaintances, Harris Kenning, joined them. “Good evening, Lady Babbage, Miss Paring.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here this evening, Mr. Kenning,” Mother said. She flashed the man an unusually bright smile. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
“And you, Lady Babbage,” Kenning replied. “Would you care to dance?”
“I’m afraid I’m a bit weary this evening,” Mother replied, looking disappointed, “but I believe my daughter is free for this dance. Perhaps you’d like to be her partner.”
“I’d be honored,” Mr. Kenning said, offering his hand to Cecilia.
She took it as she rose from her chair. “Actually, I’m not particularly fond of dancing the quadrille. Would you mind walking with me instead?”
Devin frowned.
Cecilia stiffened. Apparently she’d made another social blunder. But the gardens were busy and well lit. It wasn’t as though some illicit tryst could take place there. Any guest could look out his hotel window and see the guests wandering among the paths.
Did Mr. Kenning look disappointed? She wasn’t sure, but if he was, he hid it well. “I’d be delighted to,” he said, offering her his arm.
She accepted it and he escorted her away from her family and out through a set of double doors leading to the hotel’s gardens. A number of guests gathered near the refreshments table, but Mr. Kenning maneuvered past them and onto the wide path.
Small torches were scattered throughout the grounds lit the way. London’s night noises were soothing after the cacophony of the ballroom. The buildings surrounding Mivart Hotel’s interior courtyard muted the sounds of hoofbeats and carriage wheels along Brook Street.
“It’s lovely out here,” Cecilia said as they walked a short way along the path next to the hotel. “It’s hard to imagine that winter will soon be upon us. My parents will escape it this year since they’ll soon be leaving for Cannes. I almost envy them.” Perhaps, for a change, Father would be correct in his predictions. If the region became a new favorite destination for British travelers, as many prophesied, investing now would show brilliant timing on his part. But from what she’d learned, the area was still quite rustic. It was hardly more than a fishing village. No matter what happened, her parents’ futures would be tied to the place. She could only hope her father’s ability to forecast trends had improved.
“I must admit,” Mr. Kenning said, “Cannes has an allure about it that is difficult to deny. I’ve heard your father plans to invest there, and I’m inclined to believe he’s quite forward-thinking in attitude. In a few years, you may find that he led the wave of British arrivals there.”
“I hope you’re right. After Mr. Montlake and I marry, we plan to set up residence here in London, so I won’t be there to witness the construction of the hotel he plans to build. Father plans to transform Cannes from a fishing village into a destination that will attract everyone in England. It’s a daunting task.” A small sound near a door leading back into the hotel caught Cecilia’s attention, and she turned to look. As she stared more closely, she was surprised when she identified the bit of pale green dress peeking out from the slightly open door. This was the second time tonight. Evangeline must be slipping.
“Someone’s watching us,” she told Mr. Kenning.
He tensed. “What do you mean?”
Cecilia made a slight gesture toward the door. “My sister’s peeking out from just over there. Our parents won’t allow her to attend the ball, since she’s only fifteen. She’s quite disappointed.”
Kenning’s shoulders relaxed and he glanced in the direction she’d indicated. “I see her. Or, at least, I see her dress. Shall we go and speak to her?”
“You wouldn’t mind? I think it would make her quite happy.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said, turning toward the spot where Evangeline was hiding. “I remember what it was like to be her age.”
As they approached her sister, Cecilia called out, “We can see you.”
Evangeline didn’t even hesitate, but immediately stepped through the doorway. “Is the ball as much fun as it looks?” she asked as she moved toward them. But then she stopped short and peered at Mr. Kenning more closely. “I’m sorry. I thought you were Mr. Montlake.” She frowned. “You gentlemen all look alike when you’re dressed in those identical black cutaway jackets.”
Cecilia introduced them. “We were just taking a short walk and were about to turn back. They’re playing a quadrille,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Ah,” Evangeline replied, looking faintly disdainful. “The dreaded quadrille. Why do you dislike it so much? It isn’t much different than dancing a schottische, and you claim that dance as your favorite.”
“I don’t know why, I just don’t.” Cecilia hated it when her sister tried to argue her out of her likes and dislikes. Why did her preferences matter so much? After all, she never chided Evangeline for not liking to eat peas. How was not liking a particular dance so different? She searched for a new topic of conversation. “Mother seems a bit weary tonight.”
Evangeline frowned. “Perhaps she should rest.”
“You know she won’t.”
Evangeline let out a sigh. “But she should. You know it’s the logical and prudent thing to do.”
“Mother’s determination won’t be swayed by logic. She already decided to attend the ball. You know there’s no swaying her once she sets her mind to something.”
“How was I born into this family?” Evangeline asked, not for the first time. “Not one of you is the least bit logical.”
“But we make up for it with our charm and intuition,” Cecilia quipped.
A man’s voice came from behind her. “And you have that in spades. I can
vouch for it,” Devin said.
As Cecilia turned to face him, a smile spread across her face. It was nice to hear him compliment her. Well, he sort of complimented her, didn’t he? “Look who we found,” she said, gesturing toward her sister.
“Miss Evangeline,” Devin said. “This is a surprise. I thought you’d be in your bedchamber, enjoying the novelty of having it to yourself while sister was at the ball.”
“I tried, for a while, but since I couldn’t ignore the music of the orchestra drifting upstairs, I found it hard to concentrate on reading David Copperfield.”
“I thought you already read that,” Cecilia said.
“It bears a second, and even a third reading. Mr. Dickens is a wonderful writer.”
Cecilia opened her mouth to retort, but Devin interrupted her. “I believe our waltz is about to begin,” he said, cutting off the disparaging comment that was already on Cecilia’s tongue.
She shot him a sidelong glance. He’d done that intentionally.
Mr. Kenning cleared his throat. “Miss Paring, if you don’t mind, could Mr. Montlake escort you back to the ballroom? I’d like to walk farther down the path.”
“Of course,” Cecilia said.
Devin offered his arm and she took it.
“A good evening to you both, Misses Paring, and a good evening to you too, Mr. Montlake,” Kenning said, and then took his leave.
The buildings surrounding the garden blocked most of the cross breezes, but the brisk wind that swirled straight down on them from the sky above had changed. It was significantly cooler now, and Cecilia could sense a change in the air that suggested a storm was coming. As gooseflesh pebbled her forearms, she wished she had her wrap with her. She moved closer to Devin, pulling his arm a bit more snugly to her side. It felt sinfully good to press his upper arm into intimate contact with her breast. After a moment, the heat he radiated suffused her with warmth and her gooseflesh faded away.
It Takes a Spy...: A Secrets and Seduction book Page 2