The two names were similar, though. Was it just a case of a slip of the tongue?
The paper of the note rustled as he opened it.
The Right Honorable Conrad Croome, Fifth Earl of Lofton requests your presence to dine at his estate this evening at eight o’clock.
Sincerely,
The Right Honorable Amelia Croome, Countess of Lofton
Barrington angrily tossed the missive to the floor. An invitation for dinner? From the Loftons? What were they about? Something not quite right was going on there. Barrington just wasn’t sure what it was.
“There you are, Barrington.” Percy stood in the doorway. “You’re frowning. Something amiss?”
“You might say that.”
“Come and tell your favorite uncle all about it.”
“I have no other uncles.”
“Makes it easy for me to be the favorite, then doesn’t it?”
“Or the least favorite,” Barrington mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“What’s gotten hold of you, then?”
Should he tell his uncle what had transpired the day prior? Barrington rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of the tension he held there. What harm could come of it? Wasn’t it likely that any chance of a courtship with Miss Fleming was now gone?
Percy patted the cushion next to him on the settee. “Sit.”
Barrington did as instructed, though he wasn’t sure how to begin.
“It’s obvious something has happened to upset you. Is it about that pretty little wagtail?”
Leave it to Percy to refer to her again as a bird. Which of course made Barrington remember his comment about the bird’s tendency to wiggle its tail feathers. And Miss Fleming’s tail feathers were quite—
“Barrington?”
“Pardon. Trying to figure out what to do about a problem that has made itself known.”
“Best just to get it out. What’s happened?”
After briefly closing his eyes, Barrington looked at Percy. “As you know, I’ve taken an interest in Miss Fleming.”
“Yes.”
“So I’ve been to call on her several times.”
“I’m aware of that. I did make her acquaintance at the circus after all. Lovely girl.”
“Yes well… Yesterday we visited the Lofton’s cats in the stables and then took a stroll.”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad visit to me.”
“Oh, I’m not finished.”
“Continue.”
“As we were walking near a tall hedge, Miss Fleming seemed apprehensive, almost as if she was afraid of it.”
“Afraid?” Percy’s eyes widened. “Of shrubbery?”
“I don’t know. Yes, it sounds absurd, but if you could have observed her, you might have come to the same conclusion.”
“What did she do to make you think this?”
“Aside from glancing at the hedge often, she pulled me forward, wanting me to hasten past the hedge.”
“Why on earth would she do that?”
“I know not.”
Percy tapped a finger to his chin. “Hmm. Perhaps she has an aversion to the color green.”
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“Or she’s afraid of birds that might have been nesting there. Although why anyone would not like birds makes no sense to me.”
“No, we had visited the Sanctuary and she was quite taken with them.”
“Did the hedge appear to be frightening in any way?”
“What do you mean? It was just shrubbery.”
“When you studied it, did some of the branches appear to form the shape of say, a monster, or a dragon?” Percy clasped his hands together, his fingers wiggling outward. Was that supposed to be something scary?
Barrington raised an eyebrow. “A hedge dragon?”
“Stranger things.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“In any case, what happened next?”
“As she was tugging on my sleeve to get me to hurry past, someone, it sounded like a woman, began calling for her from the other side of the hedge.”
“That’s not so strange. I think you should reconsider my dragon idea.”
“Percy…”
“Just trying to lend assistance.” Percy’s face reddened.
“As soon as Miss Fleming heard the woman’s voice, she stiffened. Her face reddened as if she’d been caught doing something she oughtn’t.”
“Maybe the other woman had noticed you with Miss Fleming before and had taken a fancy to you. You are quite handsome, you know. A family trait, I might add.”
“Percy, the woman’s voice sounded as if she was older. Perhaps two decades or more.”
“Infatuation comes in all shapes, sizes and ages. Why once an old woman cornered me in the tea room and—”
Barrington held out his hand, palm out. “We’re getting off the subject.”
“Of course. Pardon.”
“The strangest thing that happened, what startled me the most was that the woman called out to Cecilia Fletcher.”
“I thought her name was Fleming?”
“As did I.” Barrington huffed out a loud breath.
“Curious.”
Barrington nodded. “Isn’t it?”
“But if you’ll remember, I had noticed when I met her that others stumbled over her name and that she didn’t seem to be what she had appeared.”
“True. Although at the time I didn’t think much of it.”
“Well, that sounds ungracious on your part. My going to all the trouble to be of help.”
“No, I didn’t mean I don’t think much of you, I meant… oh never mind.”
Percy ran his hand over the top of his sleeve as if smoothing ruffled feathers. “What will you do now?”
“Right before you entered, I’d received an invitation to dine with the Lofton’s tonight.”
“Will you attend?”
“I don’t know. My first inclination is to decline. I’ve no wish to spend time with Miss Fleming at the moment. If she’s lying about something, I’d rather end our acquaintance before it goes too far.”
“My boy, you’re way past too far.”
“How would you know?”
“Remember after you met her for the first time and then came home? I said you had a glow. I wasn’t making a fabrication, Barrington. You truly looked as if you’d met someone special.”
“I had.”
“Then you should go tonight. Since Miss Fleming is staying with the Loftons, I’m assuming she will attend the dinner.”
“As do I. That’s why I’m loath to accept.”
Percy leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He turned his head and pierced Barrington with his gaze. “If this young woman makes you feel alive, makes your heart race and your mouth go dry, don’t you think she deserves another chance?”
“What if she’s lying? Haven’t I been through enough of that with Martha?”
“But what if there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this? Wouldn’t you hate to miss out on something wonderful with someone because of a misunderstanding?” Percy patted Barrington’s shoulder and then stood. “You’ll do the right thing. I have faith in you.” He whistled a tune off-key as he sauntered from the room.
Was Percy right? Should I throw out all of my concerns about Miss Fleming and accept the invitation? Give her a chance to explain?
If he went to the dinner and was proven right, he’d only have lost an evening.
But if there was some explanation for her bizarre behavior and he didn’t give her a chance, he might lose a whole lot more.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Don’t you think it’s cut a bit low, Amelia?” Cecilia tugged on the low neckline of the light blue dress, hoping to keep her breasts from tumbling over the edge.
Amelia grabbed her hands. “No. I don’t. A woman must use all that is in her arsenal to capture the man of her heart.”
/>
“But dressing like this to get his attention is dishonest.”
“More dishonest than letting him believe you are Conrad’s cousin and not his sister? And the daughter of a surgeon-dentist?”
“Good point.” She winced as Amelia pulled the fabric of the bodice back down.
“When I was trying to, uh, get Conrad to notice me, I did the same thing.”
“Yes, I believe you’d mentioned that before.”
“Sometimes it’s necessary.”
“I still don’t feel right about it.”
“Cecilia, no one is forcing you to do this. But you asked for my help and this is my advice. Go to the dinner, be your charming self and don’t hesitate to display your lovely—” She glanced down. “—assets in the process.”
“Still…”
“Did God, or did God not create men and women to be different?”
Cecilia nodded.
“And didn’t He intend for men and women to be attracted to those differences?”
“I suppose.”
“Then use what He gave you and go trap, er, I mean, charm your gentleman.”
Amelia’s slip of the tongue caused her to giggle. Which caused Cecilia to laugh as well. Leah, from the corner where she readied Cecilia’s gloves and reticule, joined in.
Some of the tension eased out of Cecilia’s body. “Very well. I’ll wear this extremely low-cut gown and hope it catches Mr. Radcliff off guard enough to give me a chance to explain.”
Leah stepped forward. “But what will you say? Will you tell him who you really are?”
“No. As much as I hate lying, if he knew who I am he might not take the time to know me better.”
As Leah handed Cecilia her gloves and reticule, she smiled. “It will all be fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Where love is concerned, the heart can overlook matters which at any other time might cause concern.”
Amelia raised her eyebrows. “Leah, perhaps we should be encouraging you to find an eligible gentleman.”
“There’s nothing I want more. However…”
“What?” Cecilia stepped closer.
“I’m only a maid. Who would want me?”
“Many men, I dare say.” Amelia gave a decisive nod.
“Not men like Lord Lofton, or Mr. Radcliff.”
Cecilia tugged on her gloves. “But I am only the daughter of a surgeon-dentist. And look with whom I’m preparing to dine.”
“But you’ve had to lie to—” Leah gasped. “Forgive me.”
“No. You’re right. I’m not proud of that.”
Amelia brushed a stray wisp of hair from Cecilia’s cheek. “Cecilia, you are also the sister of an earl.”
“True…”
“Listen.” Amelia clapped her hands once. “It’s time to go meet this wonderful dinner companion of yours. Are you ready?”
Cecilia eyed the low-cut gown. “As I’ll ever be.”
Amelia and Cecilia left the bedroom, leaving Leah behind. I hate that she can’t come along. If I didn’t have Conrad as a brother, I would be staying behind, as well.
Voices carried from the parlor. Conrad and Mr. Radcliff. Their words sounded subdued. Stiff. Did Mr. Radcliff not wish to be here? Not that Cecilia could blame him. What must he think after her behavior yesterday?
When they reached the parlor, Amelia gave Cecilia’s hand a squeeze and then stepped forward to greet their guest. “Mr. Radcliff, I’m so pleased you were able to accept our invitation.”
He nodded. A small smile graced his lips, but his eyes held no gladness. The usual sparkle was absent and the corners were pulled down as if he was saddened.
Because of me….
Mr. Radcliff turned and caught Cecilia’s gaze. “Miss Fleming.”
Cecilia sucked in a small breath. Oh no, so that’s to be the tone of the evening. Are you surprised? Remembering her manners, she curtseyed. “Good evening, Mr. Radcliff.”
The butler stepped into the doorway. “Dinner is served, my lord.”
Conrad nodded. “Splendid.” He held out his hand toward the doorway. “Shall we?”
Amelia stepped forward, reaching for her husband’s hand. Conrad smiled as they headed toward the dining room.
So sweet. That’s what my heart desires. A love of my very own.. Something touched her arm and she startled.
“Miss Fleming”? Mr. Radcliff held out his arm. She placed her hand on his sleeve, praying her nervousness wouldn’t cause her hand to tremble.
Her steps faltered as they neared the dining room. Mr. Radcliff removed his arm from beneath her hand and instead wrapped his arm around her waist. “Are you all right?”
She was the furthest from all right that she could imagine. Heat shot through her side to her stomach as the warmth from his hand pressed against her gown. Something was happening. Mr. Radcliff had in a very short time become someone of great importance to her. She had come to care for him. Her thoughts were only of him. Was she falling in love?
If that meant she felt slightly nauseated and always unsure of what to say or do in his presence, ready to swoon at nothing more than his smile, then yes, she was falling in love.
Reluctantly she nodded, knowing as soon as he could see she was fine, he’d remove his hand. Cool air flowed over her when he did. Whereas while he touched her she’d sensed something of the prior connection between them, just for a moment, now he once again was stiff and removed.
With a sigh, Cecilia allowed Mr. Radcliff to seat her at the table. How was she going to explain to him her strange behavior of the day before?
She was too nervous to eat but if she didn’t at least appear interested in her food, someone might notice. She eyed the desserts waiting for their appropriate moment to be served at the end of the meal. Why couldn’t she just start with those and forgo the rest? When nervous, Cecilia craved anything sweet.
Her gaze floated to her dinner companion. He was sweet. And she certainly craved his attention. She pushed her food around on her plate, hoping it might appear as if she’d eaten something.
Conrad set aside his utensils and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Tell me, Mr. Radcliff. What do you enjoy doing in your leisure time?”
Mr. Radcliff glanced at Cecilia and then back. “I very much enjoy The Bird Sanctuary. And the amphitheatre. Dancing. Certain games, as well. Bilboquet among others.”
Cecilia nearly choked on her wine. He’d given a list of all the activities he had done with her. Was he sincere or trying to prove some kind of point? Let her see that he knew something was up with her and he wasn’t fooled?
Amelia smiled. “Those are all lovely pastimes. I enjoy them as well.” She patted Conrad’s hand. “They aren’t my husband’s favorites, but because he loves me, he’s willing to do things he finds uncomfortable.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Radcliff raised one eyebrow. “How marvelous that you have such trust, such openness in your marriage.” He picked up his goblet to drink and didn’t appear to have acknowledged Cecilia. However, he darted the quickest of looks to her that she might have missed had she not been paying attention.
“Yes, I’ll admit to only participating in certain things because of Amelia.” Conrad gazed at his wife. “But she’s worth it.”
Mr. Radcliff gave a single nod and stared at his plate. Was he embarrassed by their show of affection? Or was it more? Perhaps he was resentful that Cecilia had already lied so early in their acquaintance.
Cecilia’s throat tightened until she feared she’d not be able to catch her breath. If only Mama hadn’t chosen that particular moment to call out to her. And to use her surname. I don’t know any way to undo the damage already done with Mr. Radcliff. Unable to even pretend to eat, Cecilia placed her fork back down beside her plate. The evening couldn’t end soon enough for her. She dared a glance at Mr. Radcliff. He was still staring at his plate as well. Surely he felt the same.
“Cecilia dear,” said Amelia.
Her head raised slo
wly, all of her energy having drained away onto the floor somewhere. “Yes?”
“I’m so sorry you were accosted by that woman yesterday.”
“Pardon?”
Mr. Radcliff stiffened but didn’t look up.
“It’s such a pity.” Amelia wrapped her long fingers around her goblet.
A pity? So true. But why in the world would Amelia speak of it here? With him sitting at the table?
Conrad lowered his eyebrows and stared at Amelia but didn’t comment.
Amelia tapped the glass with her fingernail. “We give her food, of course, when she sneaks onto the estate but she seems to be destined for Bedlam.”
Mama? What was Amelia saying?
“Poor woman. Apparently has some ideas that aren’t quite right.”
Mr. Radcliff lifted his chin, eyes wide, and stared at Amelia.
“Why, just last week, Mrs. Fletcher took the notion that our dear Cecilia was her daughter. Can you imagine such a thing?”
Cecilia coughed, nearly choking. What was Amelia doing?
With a slow shake of his head, Mr. Radcliff whispered, “No, I can’t.” He turned to Cecilia. “Is that why she referred to you as Fletcher?”
Finally catching her breath, Cecilia gasped loudly. As she reached to cover her mouth, her hand knocked against the goblet. Red liquid sloshed over the rim and splattered onto the white table linen, looking every bit like drops of blood.
Mr. Radcliff stood and bent down to Cecilia. “Can you breathe, Miss Fleming?”
She swallowed cautiously and then nodded.
A maid rushed over to clean up the spill.
Amelia came to her as well. “I’m sorry, darling. Talk of that woman has upset you. We’ll speak of it no further.” With a pointed glance at Mr. Radcliff, Amelia patted Cecilia’s hand.
Oh no, what has Amelia done?
The tap of utensils to plates went on around Cecilia but she hadn’t the desire or inclination to join them in the meal. Surely Mr. Radcliff would take his leave soon afterward. Not only had Cecilia lied to him but now Amelia had concocted a strange story to explain it away. How much better it would have been if Cecilia had been truthful with Mr. Radcliff from the start.
If she had done that, though, there wouldn’t have been anything beyond that. He would have politely said good day and excused himself from her presence. Yet, wasn’t that what she deserved?
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