Before she gave into another bout of crying, she fled the teahouse. She had sent Salaam away that morning so she did not have to concern herself with his whereabouts today. There was no more danger. Everything had played itself out to its final conclusion. As promised by Miss Cunnington, there had been no further pranks or attacks upon her person or her dog. She was free of that, at least.
Before entering Nottinghouse, she paused a moment to reflect on her surroundings. She gazed about herself, at the large pristine mansions and wondered when she would visit Mayfair again. Memories of the time she had spent with Stephen were already fading. She wished she’d kept something of him — a lock of hair, a handkerchief — anything to make her feel closer to him.
Foolishness!
She swallowed hard and then entered the house. Once inside she dashed up the stairs and locked herself inside of her bedchamber. She could not hold back her tears one second longer.
STEPHEN GAVE HIMSELF over to managing both the earldom’s properties and his own business affairs. The only times he could not escape his thoughts of Cecily were while suffering the tediousness of trekking over long distances. Although he traveled with a carriage, much of the time he rode his own mount and left the more comfortable ride for Hamilton.
No matter where he went or what he did, however, he could not escape his yearning and aching for Cecily. She had become a part of him.
He’d corresponded with Flavion as necessary and was aware that the couple no longer resided at Nottinghouse. And although he had conflicting emotions about it, Stephen decided to reside in the Town house for a few weeks before traveling abroad once again in pursuit of new business opportunities.
He did not look forward to being at Nottinghouse again, even alone. There were too many memories there. Piercingly bittersweet memories.
But he needed to finish up his communications and tie up a few loose ends. Flavion had written that he would not be returning to London for several years, if ever. But he was alive. His outlook would surely improve eventually. Stephen hoped Flavion would change his mind and return to the Society in which he’d thrived for most of his life. It would be nice if he could thrive there once again, this time alongside his beautiful wife.
Stephen was not going to think about it. He would walk away once again.
This time, however, he would secure the operations of the earldom first. He hired a trustworthy and capable steward to guide and assist Flavion. The new steward and Stephen had discussed how best this was to be done. Most of the management decisions would be made by the steward, who would report to Stephen. Stephen was to pay the man’s salary and expected complete loyalty.
Upon arriving at Nottinghouse very late that night, Stephen was welcomed by a skeleton staff and informed that his room had been prepared. Emptiness swept over him as he made his way to the chamber in which he’d first made love to Cecily. Hamilton prepared him a bath, and he changed into his dressing gown.
In spite of physical exhaustion, he was too restless to sleep.
Never one to sit idle, he lit a candle and made his way downstairs to the study. There, several unopened letters sat on the desk awaiting his attention. Lighting a few sconces and placing the candle upon the desk, he perused the correspondence.
One letter was a response for which he’d written off after Miss Cunnington’s defection. It was from the investigator he had hired to inquire into Flavion’s activities before his marriage. Although feeling as though any information gathered would now be obsolete, he tore the missive open, nonetheless. A letter and a certificate were enclosed. Without reading the letter, Stephen unfolded the certificate and found himself holding his breath.
He read it once. Checked the date. And then read it again. “Good God,” he said. “Good God!” he whispered.
Uncertain as to what he ought to do, the ramifications of what he read cascaded through his mind. Sitting down, he opened the letter from the investigator, and the man confirmed the meaning of the certificate along with other inconsequential details. At the end of the missive, he asked what Stephen would like him to do with the information.
Stephen was going to have to deal with this himself.
Once again, he would have to delay his departure from England… perhaps indefinitely.
CECILY WAS DOING her best to settle in to the beautiful estate that was the seat of Kensington Earldom but knew it would be a long time before it felt like home… if it ever could. At least Flavion’s mother had vacated, for now, anyhow. Enduring that woman would have been a trial she was not prepared to cope with.
She longed for home. Would any place ever feel like home without Stephen there? Would she ever stop hurting? In her heart of hearts, she knew she would not. But she would always have a piece of him with her after all. She hugged the knowledge to herself.
A fine drizzle had settled over most of Southern England as the summer months came to an end. Cecily was sitting in the morning room where the light was best, working on some new dress designs that she had created and was going to send to Madam Chantal when she heard the unexpected sound of a team of horses pulling a carriage up the long drive. Unhurried, she stood and looked out the window.
Both the horses and the grand carriage were familiar — achingly familiar.
“Papa!” she said to herself. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him until she saw his familiar conveyance approaching.
Pulling her shawl around her, she raced down the stairs to the grand entryway. The driver had just pulled up, and her father was pushing the carriage door open when she stepped out into the rain.
It was surreal, really. It had barely been three months since her wedding, and yet it felt as though a lifetime had passed. When she’d last seen her papa, she had been giddy, excited, and terribly, terribly naïve.
Unheeded by the cold and drizzling rain, Cecily threw herself into her father’s oh-so-familiar and safe embrace. He smelled of tobacco and cloves, the exact same as he always had.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said soothingly as he held her tightly. “How about you invite me into your home so that this old man can get out of the rain?” He chuckled as he spoke. It was a sound she had heard often enough while growing up.
Cecily wiped at her eyes, not certain whether the moisture was a tear or a raindrop. The sob that choked out of her betrayed it to be a tear.
With one arm wrapped around her father’s waist, Cecily led him into the grand foyer of Flavion’s country mansion. The butler here, Mr. Babcock, looking rather chagrined at Cecily’s very un-countess-like greeting, efficiently took her father’s coat and hat and then discreetly acknowledged her father’s servants.
Remembering her position, she instructed Mr. Babcock as to which room she wanted made ready for her father and then took hold of her father’s arm to guide him up one side of the horseshoe-shaped staircase. She knew the servants were going to be a bit put out by such a surprise visitor, but she didn’t care. Her papa was here!
After leading her father into her favorite drawing room, she pulled him down onto the loveseat next to her and curled up beside him. Even with the tentative friendship she and Flavion had begun to forge, she still felt dreadfully alone. And lonely. There had been a piece of her heart absent since the morning Stephen departed. Her heart would never feel whole again.
Looking large and solid, and perhaps a little older, her papa set her away from him and scowled.
“I caught the first ship out after receiving your letter, Cecily. And since returning, I’ve spoken with Nigel at great length. I’ve also met with the archbishop. You will be happy to know an annulment is still possible. At your word, I can set matters into motion. Is this still something you would wish?”
After all the research she herself had done on the matter, this information came as quite a shock. “But… how?”
Pulling slightly at his cravat, her father, Cecily realized, was not comfortable discussing these troubles of marriage and the heart. In spite of the close relationship they’d had while
she was growing up, he obviously did not relish the notion that his daughter was a woman now. “There is a disturbing rumor that your husband has been rendered… er… impotent. Nigel has obtained sworn affidavits from two established surgeons willing to testify to the truth of this. It isn’t shut and closed, my dear. But even the Church is not immune to having their palms greased when it comes to these matters.” He tilted his head to the side and looked at her closely, as though she were something of an injured animal. “Is that what you would wish, puppet? Will you return home with your old papa?”
He was so very dear. She could see in his eyes that he had worried greatly for her during the long sea crossing. Her father hated to wait. He must have been beside himself, unable to do anything from thousands of miles away.
And now, she must tell him that his and Nigel’s efforts were for naught.
“I cannot, Papa,” she said, taking a deep breath. And then she finally spoke out loud the words she’d been holding inside for several weeks now. “I am with child.”
Her father stilled for a moment before it seemed that all the air had gone out of him. “Ah, well then,” he finally said. “That changes everything.”
Cecily buried her head in her father’s shoulder. She’d been torn by the knowledge for weeks. Not wanting to commit to any decision, she had kept it completely to herself. She did not even believe that her maid knew… although thinking about it now, Sally would have to be pretty oblivious not to have realized that her mistress had not received her courses for nearly two months.
“And how does Lord Kensington, your husband, treat you now? He must be ecstatic about your condition, considering his own circumstances. I imagine he is praying quite heartily for a male child.”
She planned on telling Flavion soon. He would believe it to be his child. If she were to give birth to a boy, then the child, Stephen’s child, would replace Stephen as Flavion’s heir. She did not think either man would wish to learn the true circumstances of her pregnancy. “I haven’t told him yet,” she said, before dissembling with her reasons. “I did not know for a very long time, and then I was very angry with him for a while. Now, well, now we are attempting to forge a new relationship, and I have been waiting for a special moment. I imagine he will be very pleased.”
Her father watched her closely as she spoke. He had always, in the past anyhow, been able to read her like a book. He seemed perplexed by her now. “I would think so.” Bending forward then leaning his elbows upon his knees, her father suddenly became quite fascinated by the ring upon his left hand. “You shall be forced to live the rest of your life without any hope of… marital relations… This is something you are willing to face?”
Cecily placed her hand upon her papa’s large and calloused ones. “Papa, I haven’t any choice.” Her father attempted to contradict this statement, but she interrupted him immediately. “I truly haven’t. It would not be right.” If her papa only knew the entire story. She couldn’t even begin to think what he would do. “Now, look at you,” she said, smiling, for the first time deigning to treat him as a proper hostess ought. “I imagine that your room has been prepared and that your valet would have ordered you a bath. You and I can share a cozy dinner together and tomorrow you can see Flavion. He has traveled into Crawley for a few days with one of his stewards but is to return tomorrow.”
Making a derogatory sound, her father nearly growled. “Not getting into more trouble, I hope. Shouldn’t his place be at home with his newlywed wife?”
At this Cecily laughed with a hint of brittleness. “You forget, Papa, Flavion can only be the most loyal of husbands now.” On a more serious note, she added, “He actually has changed considerably since the accident. He is even taking an interest in estate matters. After making a hash of his finances, he gave power of attorney over much of the earldom to his cousin. And now his cousin has appointed a man of business to work with Flavion. I am rather impressed by this new leaf he has turned over, I must admit.”
Stephen had corresponded with Flavion on more than one occasion. At first, Cecily was extremely covetous of the missives. None had been addressed to her. Of course they would not be!
But it was for the best. It must be for the best.
Stephen had done what he could to help Flavion find some self-worth. It was perhaps the best thing he’d ever done for his cousin. Or the second best. The most perhaps to be that of providing him with an heir. That remained to be seen. Cecily secretly hoped she would give birth to a girl. At least that way Stephen would not be supplanted by his own child.
Not that it mattered to Stephen. Cecily cared though. She cared too much.
Stephen would have been a wonderful father. Most likely, someday, he would be — to another woman’s child.
“Well, that’s something anyway.” Her father’s voice returned her to the present. “I consider your marriage to be the worst business deal I’ve ever made.” He gave her a regretful smile. “I was so blinded by his title that I failed to have the cad investigated completely. Will you forgive me? Can you ever?”
“Oh, Papa,” she said, hugging him again. “There is nothing to forgive.” She gave him the most genuine smile she could muster. “All will be well! I promise. And you may not be taking your daughter home with you, but soon enough, you shall have gained a grandchild!” Standing, she clasped her hands together. “Now, I want you to get out of those damp clothes, and we shall meet downstairs for dinner. We keep country hours, and as it is to be just you and I. There is no need to dress formal. It will be like old times.”
A tapping at the door heralded her father’s longtime valet, Mr. Summers. “I have a bath prepared for you, sir,” he said, admonishingly. “Your attire is quite likely damp, and you won’t be wishing to catch a chill.”
Shaking his head, her father grumbled, “Damn couple of mother hens.” Turning his attention back to Cecily, he gave her one last serious look. “Very well then, if all is as you say, I will sup with you tonight and then be off again tomorrow. I’m going to take care of a good deal of business here in England and shall eventually have to return to America again later this year. I was unable to accomplish much before returning.”
Feeling more than a little guilty for causing her father to return unnecessarily, she frowned. “I’m sorry, Papa.”
“No need to be sorry, puppet. But I can’t hang about down here if you have no need of me. I will have to miss out on the questionable pleasure of meeting with my son-in-law, but if all is as you say, I needn’t be concerned.” He suddenly looked tired, but impatient, too. Her father never stayed in one place for very long.
“Very well, then. I imagine Mr. Summers can show you to your room.”
“Absolutely, my lady,” Mr. Summers said.
As she watched her father walk away with his man, she felt a strong twinge of melancholy. In the past, she and her father had belonged only to each other. Now, it seemed she found herself in an unfamiliar position. Her decisions were her own. In truth, she belonged only to herself — to herself and to her child.
She had been correct when she’d told Stephen she had choices. She had always had choices.
And she had made them.
Now her choices regarded right and wrong. An ironic smile curved her lips. Perhaps Stephen’s sense of duty and responsibility had rubbed off on her as well as Flavion.
Damn, she missed that man!
STEPHEN’S FIRST INSTINCT was to send a messenger to the Continent in an effort to locate the baron with due haste. If he knew the truth, he would likely wish to return his daughter to England as quickly as possible.
But upon further contemplation and after letting off some pent-up energy with a bruising ride through Hyde Park earlier the next morning, he knew he must take this information to Cecily before anyone else.
She had been the victim in all of this, and he felt it would only be right to put this information into her hands and let her decide what she wanted done.
Except that… there were others inv
olved, too.
But he would do nothing until he’d spoken with Cecily.
Against all logic, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing her again. He’d intentionally not corresponded with her, or even asked about her in his letters. He had decided the best thing he could do for her would be to assist Flavion in finding a purpose as the Earl of Kensington. If Flavion could experience some accomplishments, he might find his honor after all.
But this new information changed everything.
Slowing his horse to a more sedate walk, Stephen was pleased to see Marcus riding toward him. Old habits died hard. They had often ridden together, very early, in order to avoid the scorching sun while in India.
With a wave of the hand, Marcus rode over and set his direction in line with Stephen’s. “I had not realized you were back in London already. I hope all is well at your cousin’s estates?”
Marcus looked as winded as Stephen felt. He was surprised they hadn’t passed one another on the Row earlier.
“Yes, yes, everything is set in place so that Flavion needn’t worry greatly over them. I’ve appointed Cyril Thompson to assist Flave with management. He’s down in Surrey now tutoring and familiarizing much of the administrative duties with him. So far, the reports he has sent me indicate that Flavion is taking an interest. It is promising news.”
“Thompson is an excellent man for such a task,” Marcus agreed. “Will you be returning to India again soon, then?”
Stephen might have groaned. So much could change, depending upon Cecily’s inclinations. If she decided to use this new information to her benefit, it would take Stephen’s entire savings to pay back Cecily’s dowry. Not that he cared about the money; he would make more. And there were other matters that would need to be resolved…
“I have yet… a few complications requiring my attention here in England.” He kept his words intentionally vague. Normally, he would discuss such a matter with his old friend, but this time he could not. “I am to travel to Surrey tomorrow.”
Hell Hath No Fury (Devilish Debutantes Book 1) Page 24