Eunice thought again about her cousin’s confession. Her heart ached with sympathy for Cecil. She would not even be a part of Cecil’s reform if she weren’t convinced that the change in lifestyle would be to Cecil’s benefit whether or not Olivia agreed to a marriage based more on calculated convenience than love.
And reform he certainly needed. For a moment, as they sipped tea and nibbled biscuits, Eunice wondered if she should reveal to her friends what really happened between herself and Cecil in the garden. She studied them over the rim of her cup. Abigail looked so much at peace, so full of contentment, that Eunice knew she should not shatter her mood. And she certainly had no intention of breathing a word in front of the other two!
A shot of fear lit through her as she wondered how Cecil would react to seeing her again. Obviously he knew what Abigail had done, for he had agreed to appear for the lesson at the appointed time. Surely he was not angry. She prayed not. How she wished she had possessed the courage to face him again that evening instead of running off to her bedchamber like a scared little mouse.
“So when is the first lesson?” Emily asked.
“Later this afternoon,” Eunice answered.
Abigail asked, “Table manners, perhaps?”
“You wish me to begin there? But one would think that a lord would have learned table manners at his nanny’s knee,” Eunice observed.
“Yes, but how soon they forget when the company they keep does not know a fish fork from a soup spoon.” Jane chuckled.
Eunice tried not to wrinkle her nose as she finished the last of her tea. This assignment promised to be more challenging than she had first thought.
❧
Cecil was in fine form after his hunting trip and eager to enjoy the fruits of his labors, which included bragging about his kill and his camaraderie with the other men. The hunting party would present Cook with a dozen fine pheasants. Informal banter between the four men, along with a hearty high tea served in the study, would follow.
Before he could dismount from his horse, Abigail hurried out into the entryway nearest the stables to greet them. “You are later than you promised.”
“Watching the clock, my dear? So after three years of marriage, you still miss me that much?” Tedric asked half teasingly.
She threw him an enchanting smile. “Yes, darling, terribly.”
When he saw his sister-in-law’s reaction to Tedric’s teasing, Cecil could only feel happy for them. Truly the Father in heaven had seen fit to make them a pair. Abigail never would have been the right match for him, and he knew it. But she had proven to be a fine sister-in-law.
To his surprise, Abigail turned to him. “Cecil, you must hurry.”
“Hurry? For what?”
She cut her glance from side to side as if wondering whether she should continue. She lowered her voice, although not enough to keep from being overheard by the others. “Miss Norwood awaits in the parlor.”
“Miss Norwood?” Cecil’s friend Sir Bertram Stoke asked. “Why, I have not seen her in years, not since she went abroad to school.”
“Then you would not recognize her,” Abigail said. “She is hardly a girl any longer but a grown woman.”
“Yes, she is. A diminutive blond. A beautiful pocket Venus,” Lord Giles told Sir Bertram. The other man, happily married to Lady Jane, simply nodded.
Cecil felt an uncomfortable pang at Giles’s suggestion—a surprising sensation. Why should he mind what persons Eunice saw or didn’t see? She was only giving him etiquette lessons at Olivia’s insistence.
Cecil wasn’t sure why he ever agreed to learn etiquette from Miss Norwood. Under normal circumstances, he could blame misjudgments on too much port or ale. But he had been perfectly sober when he agreed to the lessons. Perhaps he should start drinking again. At least if he had been fortified by a good strong glass of wine, he would have possessed the courage to refuse Olivia’s outlandish request.
And to think that Abigail had saddled him with Miss Norwood, of all people. Olivia’s cousin. Was she a spy for Olivia? He half wondered if the lady hadn’t agreed to the assignment out of spite, since her slap across his cheek left him with no uncertainty that his attentions were unwanted. Perhaps Miss Norwood would attempt to mislead him so he would err in his manners. If she thought so, she would be proven a fool. Unknown to Olivia—and apparently to Abigail and Eunice—any etiquette lessons he could take would only serve to refresh his memory of lessons learned long ago. Just because he had let his manners lapse didn’t mean he had taken leave of his memories. But if he could make Abigail and Miss Norwood think he needed lessons, he could enjoy a few pleasant hours of diversion with the lovely blond.
He took comfort in the fact that Miss Norwood didn’t seem to be the vengeful type. He well remembered that her unaffected innocence, so evident in her face and style, had proven more tempting than a fine meal. Which is why he tried to kiss her in the garden. If only she had let him. . .
“You must make haste in regards to your appearance,” Abigail prodded Cecil. She withdrew her fan from her dress pocket and waved it in front of her nose.
“Is your gesture meant as an objection to my outdoors aroma?”
“If I may be so bold.” Abigail nodded.
“Or perhaps the smell of my horse offends you.” Cecil patted General on the side of the neck.
“Perhaps both,” Abigail observed.
Cecil chuckled, and the others laughed with him. “So you are not fond of the smell of a man after a good hunt?”
“Perhaps Miss Norwood will be more tolerant,” one of his cohorts suggested amid chortles from the others.
Cecil dismounted and, after handing the reins of his favorite steed to a stable boy, sauntered into the house. He had already decided not to take a chance that Miss Norwood would welcome the smell of the outdoors clinging to his person. He hurried up the rear steps to his quarters.
“Where is Luke when I need him?” he muttered, his voice rough with disagreeableness.
Then, noting the time according to a small clock on the fireplace mantel, he realized Luke was probably in his own quarters, enjoying his usual afternoon tea. He debated whether or not to ring the bell to summon him. He decided his valet’s tea could wait and yanked on the bell with the irritation he felt.
Luke entered forthwith and bowed. “Yes, milord?”
“Help me dress for tea with Miss Norwood.”
“Tea with a lady?” Luke hastened to select an appropriate afternoon suit from Cecil’s wardrobe.
“Tea with a lady.” Cecil peered into the mirror that hung just over the dressing table and rubbed his chin. New beard growth was evident despite a morning shave. “Fetch me my shaving implements.”
“Yes, milord.” Luke hastened about his errand. “This lady must be one of importance to you since you are troubling yourself so.”
“Our last meeting ended on a sour note, so I am hoping to redeem myself in her eyes.” He hoped he didn’t appear as jittery as he felt.
“At times such as these, I wish I were not under such strict orders to withhold your port, milord. Surely you would enjoy a drop or two before meeting with the lady.”
“And have her smell the forbidden fruit of the vine upon my breath?” Cecil shook his head. “The temptation you offer is great, but I think I had best not take the chance.”
A few moments later, Cecil tried to ignore Luke’s pitying look as he held up Cecil’s vest. He could only hope the lesson would be as short and painless as possible.
❧
As soon as Eunice saw Cecil again, she remembered the night of the ball and why she had readily consented to walk with him in the garden. As was the case during their first meeting, his expressive blue eyes drew her attention first. Their boyish appeal made her smile. She held back from letting her expression become too broad so as not to appear forthright.
Cecil smiled in return, his cheeks growing wider. Was his face less sanguine than before? Yes, she decided. Perhaps he had been near the hot flames too long be
fore, and now his complexion had returned to its lighter, more natural state.
He was dressed in a crisp suit fashioned of costly fabric that announced his membership in the aristocracy. A morning coat tailored from Bath Superfine stretched across his shoulders without a wrinkle. The suit fit his robust form well but seemed a bit looser than fashion required. Had the earl lost weight? Surely he was not ill. No, he didn’t seem to be. If anything, his demeanor seemed heartier than ever.
Then she remembered Olivia’s demands. If one could judge by his bearing, Cecil’s health and appearance were already benefiting from lack of strong drink and tobacco. Perhaps Olivia knew what she was doing when she set conditions on her future husband.
Just as quickly, queasiness set into her stomach. No, Olivia didn’t have Cecil’s best interests in her heart and mind. Any positive changes that happened as a result of Cecil’s alteration of habits could not be accredited to Eunice’s pitiless cousin.
“How do you do, Miss Norwood? I am charmed that we have occasion to meet again.” Cecil brushed his lips over the back of her hand, a gesture that left her feeling strangely weak.
“As am I, Lord Sutton.” She retrieved her fan and waved it lightly in front of her face. Even amid his smooth gesture, she felt no qualms about being left alone in the parlor with him. Eunice wasn’t sure of Abigail’s whereabouts in the house, yet she didn’t doubt that Abigail’s ears were primed to overhear their every word.
“I offer you my utmost gratitude for agreeing to meet me here today for my first lesson,” he said. “I know our last meeting did not end auspiciously, and for my behavior, I humbly beg your indulgence and pardon.”
Eunice was almost sorry she had slapped him when he tried to kiss her. Did Cecil really need lessons in etiquette? “Indeed, you have my forgiveness. I only hope that my agreeableness regarding your suggestion that we promenade in the garden did not mislead you.”
“No, Miss Norwood. I am afraid I was living up to my reputation.”
“A reputation that you no longer need if you are to marry my cousin.” Eunice hoped that her voice didn’t betray her sorrow.
“Which is why we are here.” A hint of sadness emanated from his eyes. “I regret that my behavior has made me unworthy of Olivia. And I find myself looking forward to changing for the better.”
Eunice studied his softened features. For an instant, she could see that underneath his bravado, Cecil’s heart wasn’t hard. How did the world waylay a perfectly good man? A passage from the seventh chapter of Matthew popped into her head: “Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.”
Cecil had chosen the wide path. And he had finally come to regret it.
“Perhaps it is Olivia who is unworthy of you,” Eunice observed before she could stop herself.
“Indeed?” He seemed to contemplate the possibility as though it had never before occurred to him.
Eunice decided to steer the conversation to safer terrain. “Let us begin our first lesson. Abigail’s maid has set up the most formal and intricate place setting possible. I am sure you shall have no trouble at all knowing what to do.”
Cecil groaned. “I remember being schooled in such pretentiousness at an early age. I trust I have not forgotten everything I ever learned.”
A half hour later, Eunice could see that Cecil had indeed forgotten most of those early lessons.
“What does it matter which fork I use? Do they not all have tines?”
“Yes, but the tines are shaped differently for different purposes.” She picked up two forks to illustrate. “See how the tines on the fish fork appear different from those on the meat fork? Surely, you can imagine how much more easily one can consume tender and flaky fish with this fork,” she said, holding up the fish fork, “rather than trying to use this on fibrous mutton.”
“Perhaps if I could enjoy the food you mention, I would not have to be so imaginative,” he pointed out.
She laughed despite her exasperation. How did she ever let Abigail convince her to teach Cecil any manners? Surely only frustration lay ahead for them both. But for Abigail’s sake, she would stand by her promise.
“I beg your indulgence,” Cecil said before she could answer. “I have had nothing to eat since the hunt, and my empty stomach rumbles. Remembering how to use these implements only reminds me of my hunger.”
Eunice’s heart softened in sympathy. “Then it is no wonder you are not at your best. We must have Cook bring you something from the kitchen.”
“Do not bother your pretty little self for me. I shall manage until dinner. You see, I normally enjoy a fine cigar and a glass of port after a good hunt, and now that I am not permitted, I fear that my humor is not as it should be.”
“On the contrary, I can see that your charm overrules your poor humor on most occasions.” Eunice snapped her mouth shut as soon as the words flew out of her lips. Why had she said that?
The expression on his face brightened so much that her blunder was almost worth the embarrassment she suffered.
“I–I beg your indulgence. I did not mean to be so forthright,” she explained.
“A little forthrightness can do wonders upon occasion,” he answered.
The smile that covered his lips illustrated that his words were true. His temper improved considerably, and he even took his newfound knowledge to the dinner table that evening. Eunice tried not to be obvious as she watched him, but she noticed no errors.
The lesson had been a success! She held back a victorious smile. She felt certain that Abigail and Tedric noticed, too. Abigail gave her encouraging looks from time to time as the meal progressed. She was grateful she hadn’t disappointed her friend.
Or is it Cecil you wish not to disappoint?
The idea took her by surprise. Eunice had no romantic intentions toward Cecil. So why did her heart beat faster on those occasions when he drew near to her? When she caught a whiff of his bay rum shaving lotion, why did she want to lean even closer to him?
Jane’s crisp voice interrupted her musings. “Cecil, do you have any news from London?”
“I did receive a missive in yesterday’s post.”
“Do tell!” Emily urged. “We are always eager to hear news from London.”
Obviously enjoying his role as the center of attention, Cecil reported on each friend and acquaintance.
“And Lady Olivia?” Jane prodded. “I understand her recent ball was quite a success.”
“Yes, it was. In spite of the fact that her ball coincided with two other events, the crowd was considerable.” He cocked his head like a rooster drawing all the attention of the hens. “Olivia was pleased.”
Olivia. Mention of her cousin hadn’t bothered Eunice until she heard it pass through his lips. Somehow his speaking of her, even in such a casual context, sent a wave of jealousy through her that she hadn’t known herself capable of feeling. Though the emotion caused her to feel alive by showing her that she had begun to care about him, she found herself not entirely comfortable with such passion.
❧
Cecil tried to divert the conversation from Olivia as soon as he could. Suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about Olivia when Eunice was present.
Eunice? What an odd thought. No, her presence wasn’t the reason. Surely everyone in the dinner party found his recent commitment a source of curiosity and amusement. Yes, that was the reason for his reticence. They would just have to wait to have their wonder satisfied.
He looked over at Eunice. She was even more beautiful than she had been on the night of the ball. Her own fashionable clothing suited her small frame better than Olivia’s thoughtless castoff. Soft blond curls surrounded healthy cheeks that drew the eye to her mouth, which reminded him of a sweet pink rosebud. Her expression was unreadable. She seemed far away, lost in a world of her own. And no wond
er. Surely all the talk about people in London she neither knew nor cared about bored Eunice. He wished he could be alone with her, to converse with her further in matters of mutual interest. He wanted to entertain her, to make her fill the room with her tinkling laugh.
What has come over me? I haven’t felt like this since. . .since. . . He tried to remember. Yes, since the bloom of his first love.
As the others conversed, he meditated. Olivia would be the ideal match, but he felt different around Eunice. He looked at the lovely blond, the diminutive woman Giles persisted in calling a “pocket Venus.”
Why did he find himself reacting to Eunice so suddenly? Was it because, like Abigail, she seemed so much more pure? How could Eunice be both sophisticated and innocent?
He cut his stare to Tedric’s friend, Lord Giles. The dark-haired man had been boring his stare into Eunice all evening. Obviously, he, too, had taken special notice of how Eunice’s quiet charm took over any room she entered. Surely Giles had set his sights on Eunice.
A sense of outrage filled Cecil—an emotion he knew he had no right to feel toward Eunice. Olivia had her flirtations, but her actions never bothered him. The passion he felt struck fear in his heart. Olivia, and the familiar warm emotion she stirred in him, felt comfortable and good. This passion toward Eunice was strangely deeper. How could this be? Such feelings promised to be nothing but trouble.
Five
“Lord Snob, shake hands with Sir Inferior,” Cecil said during his imaginary introduction.
Eunice let out an exasperated breath. “Cecil, please! Why are you ordering Lord Snob to shake hands? Do you not know better?”
“All right.” He cleared his throat. “Lord Snob, I know you really have no desire to shake hands with Sir Inferior. He is one of the many others that your paramour is seeing in secret, and this entire introduction is quite awkward. I am so sorry you have to pretend that you have no idea you are being played for a fool, old boy. I suggest that we retire to the drawing room for a glass of port.”
“Cecil!” Eunice laughed in spite of herself.
Over the past weeks, Eunice had begun to anticipate rather than to dread her lessons with Cecil. He had proven to be a quick and willing student. Even during their most frustrating moments, he managed to charm her. His charisma took her by surprise. With his abrupt cessation from strong drink and cigars, she had expected him to be grumpy. Since their renewed acquaintance, she had never caught a whiff of port or brandy on his breath, and the stale smell of tobacco was never upon him—a fact she found even more pleasing. She couldn’t help but think that his success was due in no small part to her petitions for him with the Lord. Yet in light of his indifferent attitude toward God, she would not admit to Cecil that she was praying for him. At least not yet.
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