She also told him about each of her friends.
About Rhoda, the strong-willed, outspoken one; Emily the well-read, logical one; and Sophia, who at times seemed empty-headed, but was creative and courageous. All of them had been her staunch supporters throughout her ordeal. He hoped they would remain at her side… afterward. He hoped they would not abandon each other.
And despite her infirmed condition, Cecily hardly complained at all.
It continued to astonish him that his cousin had been capable of marrying Cecily in such a coldhearted manner. She was a delightful person, a warm, living, charming lady who had feelings and dreams and a surprisingly sharp mind. He could no longer deny that she’d already engaged his affection.
In light of this personal revelation, he intentionally did not permit himself to spend any time alone with her. He could not allow himself to continue pursuing this affair.
No matter how much Flavion deserved it.
Stephen waited until he felt that Cecily would be in high-enough spirits to tell her he was not going to follow through with her plan. He’d been putting this off. As much as it bothered him to break his word to her, it bothered him more to betray his cousin, to betray his own code of honor.
He’d barely reached the upstairs landing, however, when he caught sight of Cecily sitting on one of the benches that lined the lavishly decorated corridor.
She was asleep.
Conflicting emotions immediately came to the forefront of his conscious thought. She looked so very innocent, and yet those pouty lips had wreaked havoc upon his hard-fought control. She had a very sensual power over him. No one else in the entire world could be less appropriate for him to take as a lover. And yet, he had never known any other woman to tempt him as she did. Every instinct demanded he scoop her up and carry her to bed — his bed. He adjusted his coat and then knelt down in front of her.
“My lady… Cecily…?” He touched her cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers.
Her lashes fluttered and then opened slowly. “I was only resting,” she said defensively, “before I go out.”
“You cannot go out, Cecily,” he said tenderly. “We have yet to discover who was attempting to harm you, and in addition to that, you are not yet fully recovered.”
She looked disappointed.
“But I would be more than willing to escort you for a walk in the gardens if you would be amenable to that?” He wanted to see her smile. He needed to see her smile.
She tilted her head to one side. “The two of us alone, or must we summon Sally to chaperone? I fear you have regrets regarding… well, qualms concerning our…” Blushing prettily, she turned her eyes away from him.
“I feel that I must apolog—”
“Oh, please, please, do not apologize. Unless you are most earnestly sorry that it happened.” She turned those green eyes once again on him. “Are you sorry? Was it truly something you regret?” She was so damn vulnerable — so damn trusting of him!
Did he regret it? Remembering the candlelight as it had cast erotic shadows on the curve of her spine, the sensations of being overwhelmed by her sensuality, and the look in her eyes as they’d found a perfect rhythm, he could not feel regretful. He only wished he could repeat it… again and again…
“I am sorry for betraying my cousin,” he said, remembering why he’d come to speak with her. He could not return her gaze and so got up from his knee before taking the space on the seat beside her. “I cannot be that man… that man who takes what he wants regardless of circumstances.” Pausing, he took a deep breath. “I know that it already appears that I am without honor. Our actions have plagued me for nearly a week now.” He stared at the painting on the wall in front of them, a landscape of his uncle’s manor in Surrey. It had been the closest thing to a home he could remember. “I admit that I have… feelings for you. But I cannot live between two people who are legally, eternally bound. I fear that it is best for us to step away from what we have done and attempt to continue on as cousins… hopefully, as friends.” He glanced down. Unbeknownst to himself, he had taken her hand in his. Turning to look at her, he raised her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss upon the back of it. “And I am sorry if I have caused you even more pain than you have already experienced through your marriage to my cousin. It was never my intention. I promise you.”
She looked at him for just a moment before snatching her hand away. “Why would you think you could hurt me?”
Ah, so he had hurt her. He fought the urge to take possession of her hand again.
“It was good, was it not? The sex? I will admit to a certain satisfaction in knowing that my husband is not the only one finding pleasure outside of this marriage. It’s only a shame he never walked in on us. Oh, that would have been priceless!” Standing up slowly, she turned back to look down at him. “Perhaps Lord Blakely will be willing to assist me.” Her lips were pinched, and her eyes had turned hard and cold.
He hadn’t seen that look on her face since the night Flavion introduced them – and then it had been directed at Flavion.
“I am sorry to withdraw my assistance in that matter, Cecily, but I think it is for the best.”
“Very well, then,” she said and began walking toward the stairs. She did not look all that steady, and he could not bear to see her walking away from him looking so frail. He quickly stood up so as to assist her. While giving her his arm, regret and a new guilt attacked him. The pain in her eyes belied her words, the betrayal. For he knew it had not just been sex between the two of them. It had been much more than a physical act.
She took his arm, albeit a bit reluctantly, and leaned upon him slightly.
“What is your destination, my lady?”
She paused again. “If you would be so kind as to fetch me Salaam and Chadwick, I had planned on visiting Miss Goodnight at her home this afternoon.”
The large clock in the foyer began to gong, causing her to jump slightly. It was five o’clock. “Oh, damn,” she said softly. “Never mind. Please, just leave me alone, and I shall return to my chamber.”
She pushed him away from her and turned back from the stairs. “Please have Salaam bring Chadwick up to me. It would be nice to have some civil company for a change.” And with that, she disappeared.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
STEPHEN’S CHEST CONSTRICTED as Cecily disappeared into her chamber. He had accomplished the one thing in the world that he would have avoided at all costs. He had hurt her. And for what? For whom?
Sounds downstairs of the opening and subsequent slamming of the large front door pulled him from his sentimental musings. Good God, given much more time to contemplate Cecily Nottingham, and he would likely begin writing poetry or some other such nonsense.
“Stephen!” It was Flavion’s voice bellowing from below, shattering the relative peacefulness the household took on during his absence. Well, it was Flavion’s house, Stephen supposed.
“I am right here,” Stephen said calmly as he came down the stairs leisurely. But he bristled inside more than usual. What now? Trouble, most likely. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence today?”
Flavion peered up and made a face at Stephen’s sarcasm. “I am in need of you, Stephen.” His voice was no longer demanding. It had taken on a desperate, pleading tone. Flavion looked as though he had lost nearly a stone. His eyes were shadowed, his face gaunt and unshaven.
When he reached his cousin, he placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. “Come into the study, Flavion. You know I will help you if I can.” He assumed this had something to do with either Lord Griffin or the colonel. Most likely one or the other of them had finally caught up with his cousin.
Flavion allowed Stephen to steer him into the comfortable setting that the study provided, and then he sat down in the chair closest to the unused hearth. “I have been challenged, Stephen. By not only one angry gentleman, but two. I am to meet with Daphne’s father tomorrow morning and Colonel Benning the morning after.” Looking haggard and un
certain, it was Flavion who squeezed the bridge of his nose this time. The tension emanating from him was profound.
Flavion was afraid.
Cautious of his cousin’s unusual mood, Stephen sat down across from him. “What weapons have you chosen?”
Flavion looked up tiredly. “I haven’t yet, Stephen. I need your help. Will you be my second?”
Reaching over and patting the younger man’s knee, Stephen felt a fission of fear himself. Griffin was an older man with a bit of a paunch, but the colonel had been a fighting man all his life. If he wished to see Flavion dead, Stephen did not hold out a great deal of hope Flavion could do much to prevent it. “Of course. I have been accumulating some information on these gentlemen since they first attempted to call you out several days ago. Have you spent much time over at Gentleman Jackson’s lately?”
Flavion ran a hand through his golden-blond hair. “I haven’t really, not since before father died. I think my chances will be best with swords.”
“You are in practice? You have practiced often?”
“Somewhat…” Flavion left off. “Daphne’s father… I could prevent it, but… He is adamant that we meet on a field of honor. He is not very physically fit, and I believe that I can beat him easily, draw first blood, and put an end to it. But the colonel…”
“Is fit and skilled,” Stephen supplied, “and mad as a hell.”
Flavion chuckled. “Right.”
Stephen stood up. “As your second, I’ll do all that I can to negotiate a truce for you. But you first must be willing to leave the chits alone henceforth. You dishonored both of them. Did you not think something like this would happen?”
“Don’t start, Stephen, please.”
“But what am I to tell these fathers? In exchange for a truce, I’ll likely have to give them my word that you will leave London, perhaps England. Are you willing? Will you honor any concessions that I make on your behalf in order to avoid the duels?”
Flavion’s head was in his hands again. “I’ve made a hash of everything, haven’t I? The estates? The dowry? Daphne… Alice…” An abrupt sob caught hold of him for a moment before he could continue speaking. “Of course I will honor any concessions. But — God, Stephen, don’t make me go to the Colonies. I can’t live in the wilderness. Paris maybe… since the wars are over…”
“Very well,” Stephen responded, resigned to this very unfortunate of tasks. “You are certain you wish to fight with swords?”
Flavion thought for a moment. “Swords with the baron and pistols with the colonel. Bloody hell, Stephen, if I’m going to take a hit, it might as well be a quick one.”
Stephen raised his brows and stared his cousin in the eyes. “You mustn’t think like that.” At his cousin’s silence, he rose. “Get over to White’s and do some light sparring. Nothing strenuous, but reacquaint yourself with the feel of the sword in your hand. And when you are done, return here. Tonight we’ll discuss the negotiations, and hopefully you can avoid either one or both of these challenges.” At Flavion’s nod, Stephen turned on his heels and called out to Sherman for his coat and hat.
It seemed the day’s work had barely begun.
CECILY WONDERED THAT she had still had a heart to break. She’d thought she’d experienced pain when Flavion hurt her, but that had been very different from what she felt now. With Flavion, she had experienced the death of her girlhood dreams. The fantasy of love she’d believed she’d felt for him had been shattered. She’d been betrayed, cheated, and humiliated. She now realized that she hadn’t, in fact, been heartbroken.
That experience had been saved for today.
Stephen’s withdrawal from her caused a different devastation altogether. When one’s heart broke, one could hardly breathe. She didn’t even want to breathe. Why would she want to carry on in a life without Stephen Nottingham?
Flopping onto her bed, she closed her eyes and allowed the pain of his rejection to seep through her body. It was in her chest, her throat, her arms, her fingertips. She felt it all over.
She wished she’d never heard the name Nottingham.
No, that wasn’t strictly true. As much as she experienced the loss of him now, she would not sacrifice her memory of what they’d shared.
This was love.
Having come to understand Stephen Nottingham, she knew in her heart that he would haunt himself with guilt over what they’d done for years to come. He believed he owed his uncle a debt — a debt he’d never be able to fully repay.
And now he probably imagined he owed one to his cousin as well. For he had made love to Flavion’s wife.
Except that she did not feel like a wife. Especially not to Flavion. He’d discarded her far too quickly for her to have even begun to feel like his wife.
Legally, though — technically — she was an adulteress.
This thought caused her to sit up. She did not feel guilty in the least. Well, except for where Stephen was concerned. Because she knew that he felt guilty, and that was because of her.
And then another epiphany hit her.
She was no longer angry with Flavion.
She stood up and walked over to the door adjoining her suite with Flave’s. He hadn’t been around at all this past week, but there were sounds within his chamber now.
She knocked softly and then pushed the door open. Flavion was lying down on the sofa in his sitting room. He looked horrible.
“Flave?”
He lay with one arm covering his face. He did not look at her. “Hello, Cecily,” he responded without any real emotion.
It was very rude of him not to rise when she’d entered, but she supposed they were beyond that courtesy. He’d not really treated her like a lady since their… wedding. Why would he start now?
She tentatively stepped in and took a seat on the edge of a velvet-covered chair.
“I wanted to let you know…” she said quietly, “…I forgive you.”
At this, Flavion turned his head and regarded her with shadowed eyes. He looked even more handsome than when he was dressed to the nines. His beard and sullenness brought out a rakish look in him she hadn’t known him to possess before.
It had little effect on her, if any. She merely felt sorry for him.
“So you’ve heard about the duels then?” he said.
At this, her eyebrows rose in concern. “Duels? I haven’t heard any such thing.” And then comprehending that he’d said duels, plural, she asked, “What do you mean, duels?”
Flavion swung his feet to the ground and sat up in one easy motion. “Your wishes are all about to come true. I am set to duel Daphne’s father tomorrow, and another chit’s angry papa the day after. The odds are against me. It’s highly likely you’ll be free of this marriage, free of me, within forty-eight hours. Less, if you’re lucky.”
She’d covered her mouth with one hand when he’d begun speaking.
“Oh, no! Flave! You cannot truly think that I would wish for you to die! What kind of a person do you think I am? I do not wish to be married to you, but not at the cost of your life! Oh, Flave, what have you done?”
He shrugged. “Nothing new, really. It just all seems to have caught up with me.”
“The first duel is tomorrow? Tomorrow morning?” She did not wish for Flavion to die. Although not her favorite person in the world, he was precious to Stephen. Stephen would be devastated to lose his cousin.
“At dawn, I believe. Stephen is handling the details now. If I’m lucky, he will negotiate a truce, but I am not very hopeful.”
Of course, Stephen would be Flavion’s second.
“Weapons?” she asked.
“Swords tomorrow and pistols the day after.” He looked utterly hopeless. This could not be good.
“You must prepare! I believe Lord Blakely said he would be at White’s this evening. Why don’t you go over there and practice?” Hopefully, the earl would be helpful. With Flave’s present mindset, he was certain to lose. He needed to find some confidence somewhere.
It was quite possible she would be a free woman again, but this gave her no satisfaction. For she was also quite free of Stephen. And that was not what she wanted at all.
IT WAS AGREED that each combatant would bring his own sword. The seconds had settled on a remote clearing deep within Hyde Park for the location of the duel, which was to take place at dawn.
The morning was a cool one for late in May, but the air felt good as Stephen and Flavion urged their mounts along the path toward their appointment.
Stephen had arranged two surgeons be present. He’d been unable to persuade Griffin’s second to convince the man to withdraw the challenge, but he had obtained a concession that it only be fought until first blood was drawn.
He sincerely hoped for Miss Cunnington that first blood did not amount to a fatal wound. For it was Miss Cunnington who stood to lose, regardless of the outcome of the duel. It would either be her father or her lover. According to Flave, she had gone to her father with her grievance against Flave when he had tried to break things off. Not a wise move on her part.
As they stepped into the open field, Stephen was both gratified and disappointed to see the other parties had all arrived as promised. Marcus awaited them as well.
Stephen dismounted and then left Flavion alone with Marcus to consult with Griffin’s second. He would make one final attempt at a reconciliation. He carried Flavion’s sword over to be inspected and measured along with his opponent’s. They were to be of exactly the same length. He would inspect Lord Griffin’s. They were to fight with sharpened blades. No foils today.
Hell Hath No Fury (Devilish Debutantes Book 1) Page 19