Lady And The Cad

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Lady And The Cad Page 11

by Murray, Tamela Hancock


  She decided not to argue—at least for the time being. She rose from her seat and hugged her aunt. “Oh, Auntie dear, let us not quarrel. By your leave, I would like to be excused so that I might work on my embroidery. Perhaps you might enjoy sitting by the fire with me and reading a good book.”

  “I would enjoy reading, but I do believe I prefer a nap instead, thank you,” Aunt May said. “But you may not be excused quite yet. Before you indulge yourself in your needlework, you have a letter to write.”

  Eunice searched her mind. She couldn’t remember any unanswered correspondence.

  “I want you to write Lord Sutton a letter to inform him that your lessons together are being discontinued immediately.”

  “A letter? But should I not tell him in person?” she asked. “I think that would be far more polite. In any event, I have promised Abigail I will soon visit her. She has just completed a new tapestry. I certainly want to admire her handiwork.”

  Aunt May sighed. For a moment, Eunice wondered if she planned to allow the sigh to serve as her answer. The two women sat in silence. Eunice listened to the fire crackle and watched her aunt breathe more deeply than usual, as was her habit when she was deep in contemplation.

  She finally answered. “All right, then. You may go to the estate and tell him in person. But I warn you, giving in to your wish is against my better judgment.”

  “Thank you, Aunt May.”

  Eunice didn’t remember a time when she was more grateful to have a wish granted.

  Later, alone with her needlework, Eunice recalled the morning’s events—including the quarrel with her aunt. The remembrance of such unpleasantness played a sour note in her mind. She never wanted to displease her beloved aunt. Yet despite her aunt’s upset, Eunice knew she had to defend herself—and Cecil.

  The idea that she had to tell Cecil about the lessons’ discontinuance in person wasn’t totally true. Though she knew that delivering the bad news in person might take away some of its sting, a letter would have sufficed. Guilt reared its ugly head. In her heart, Eunice knew that for some time she had been using the lessons as a way to keep seeing Cecil. She wasn’t sure whether Cecil noticed or not, but if he did, he never indicated that he minded in the least. If anything, he seemed even happier to see her with each passing lesson.

  Though she was not a worldly woman, Eunice could see by the way he let his look linger upon her, how he studied her face when he thought she wasn’t looking, how he let his hand linger too long on hers, and by the sweet words that flowed from his lips that his interest in her was sincere. If it weren’t, would he have agreed to read a challenging author such as Shakespeare? Would he have cracked open his dusty Bible?

  Would he have attended church?

  She didn’t think so. At that moment, she felt led to utter a prayer to the heavenly Father. “Lord, I thank Thee for the progress Cecil has made in his life and especially for leading him to church this morning. I pray that Thou wilt not let him become discouraged by people who would rather talk about him than to him. Lead him to Thy way, and keep him there. And Lord, please help Aunt May see that Cecil is really not as vile as she believes. Open her heart and mind to accepting him, if that is Thy will. In the name of Jesus, amen.”

  At that moment, Eunice realized that she might have changed more than her student. What had happened? How had she managed to become yet another woman to be enchanted by the beguiling cad?

  ❧

  The next day, Eunice traveled to the Sutton estate with a heavy heart. Truly, Cecil had acquired the manners of royalty and had learned to enjoy reading classical literature. In her heart, she knew that her aunt was right. Cecil didn’t need her anymore.

  Now he is free to marry Olivia.

  Eunice swallowed and clutched her throat as though she were trying to coax down a bottle of harsh elixir. Such feelings were contrary to any she expected to experience at this point. She should have been happy that her arduous task had been completed well ahead of the designated year—not only completed but finished with great success. So why did she feel as though she was a convict on the way to the gallows rather than a woman finally free of an albatross?

  Could it be that you love him?

  “No!” she whispered to herself and shook the thought from her mind.

  She couldn’t love him. She had no right. She had to think of Olivia, and she had to be obedient to Aunt May, who only had Eunice’s best interests in her heart and mind—and whose wisdom and experience far exceeded Eunice’s. Head held high, Eunice decided to tell Cecil that any future contact would happen only under obligatory social circumstances.

  If only Cecil will tell me that he no longer wants to be with Olivia. If only he will say he wants to be with me. An unwelcome pang of guilt shot through her at the selfish thought.

  The butler answered the door. “Mrs. Sutton begs your indulgence, but she is temporarily indisposed. She has asked me to escort you to the parlor for hot tea, if that is agreeable to you.”

  “But of course.” Such an offer held great appeal on a dreary afternoon. The gray sky seemed to cry out its raindrops.

  Eunice stepped into the spacious foyer and handed the butler her wet coat. Following him, she rubbed her palms against her forearms. The motion warmed her, although she suspected the tea would be much better. Waiting in the parlor, she stood as closely to the fire as she could without endangering her dress to stray sparks. When would the tea arrive? What was taking so long?

  Without warning, the silence was broken. Loud, lusty singing seemed to be coming from somewhere in the back of the house. The tunes could hardly be considered pleasant to the ear. Not only were they executed in a most off-key fashion, but the words were not the kind one would hear in church—or at most parties held in respectable homes.

  Eunice shuddered. She didn’t recognize the voices. Surely Tedric wasn’t singing with a friend. When she listened to Cecil singing the past Sunday, he showed his insecurity in the way he fairly spoke, rather than sang, the words. Yet fear clamped her stomach.

  “Please, Lord,” she whispered, “let it be someone else.”

  Unwilling to see the songsters, she decided to stay put by the fire in the parlor, where she could feel safe from her doubts and misgivings. She stared into the orange fire, hoping that through sheer force of will, she could block out the offending noise.

  An instant later, she heard the squeak of a door hinge, followed by the clomping of feet. The off-key singers hadn’t stopped their performance. Instead, they seemed to be traveling toward the parlor—toward her!

  Curiosity overcoming revulsion, Eunice stepped toward the entrance of the room and peered toward the approaching voices. To her horror, she saw that Cecil and Lord Giles were walking up the hall, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. They sang an off-key but hearty rendition of a bawdy song, a tune that Eunice had never heard. Even worse, both men still managed to hold a wine glass in one hand and a cigar in the other. Ashes from the lit tobacco fell to the floor at irregular intervals and brought the pungent odor of tobacco along with them.

  Eunice wanted to run back into the parlor, to shelter by the fire in hopes she could forget the scene and convince herself, somehow, that the horror was all a figment of her overactive imagination or just a nightmare. Too shocked and appalled to move, Eunice remained in the doorway.

  Lord Giles was the first to notice her. He lifted his glass in her direction. “Ah, Miss Norwood! How lovely to see you!”

  Her name seemed to awaken Cecil. His eyes shot wide open, and he took his arm away from Lord Giles’s shoulder with such force that Eunice wondered how he kept from setting Lord Giles’s shirt on fire. The smirk Cecil wore disappeared when his jaw dropped open. “Eunice!”

  “Indeed it is,” Lord Giles agreed, his voice, more robust than usual, filling the large hallway. With his arm still around Cecil’s shoulders, Lord Giles pushed and prodded so Cecil would walk faster toward her.

  Eunice retreated into the parlor, but the m
en followed her.

  “Why do you hurry away?” Lord Giles asked. “Do you not wish to see us? We are quite entertaining singers, as you heard.”

  “Yes, yes, indeed,” Cecil agreed. His earlier look of remorse had disappeared. Eunice suspected that, prodded by Lord Giles, Cecil was too inebriated to realize—or to care—how silly he appeared.

  “Perhaps we should try our hand in the theatre.” Giles sent his companion a side-glance. “What say you, old boy?”

  “I say we should give it a go.”

  “I suggest you listen to yourselves sing when you are sober before reaching a final conclusion regarding a change of careers,” Eunice advised. She noticed that the men had removed their coats, and their shirts were rumpled. Cecil had even removed his shoes. “A ragtag company you would make, indeed.”

  “To be sure. We had planned to sober up by taking a walk in the rain,” Lord Giles taunted her, “but methinks we might have more fun if we drink another toast.”

  At that moment, Eunice noticed that Lord Giles still held a half-empty glass of port, which he lifted toward her. “To the absence of that steadying force, Tedric!” He waved the glass and held it to his lips for a drink.

  “Tedric,” Cecil answered. “He is missing out on all the fun.”

  Lord Giles looked at Cecil’s empty hand. “And so are you. Where is your glass, my boy?” Lord Giles asked. “Did you leave it in the study? I suggest we might fill it again, now that Miss Norwood is here.”

  “That is quite all right. I have no desire to have a toast made to me.”

  “Very well.” Lord Giles rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. “I know. I shall toast you, Cecil. To our new friendship.” He downed his port and wrapped his arm anew around Cecil’s shoulders.

  “Yes, yes. To our new friendship.” Cecil nodded, then plopped into the nearest chair in a most undignified manner. “I think I’ve had enough for a time. Giles, old boy, you have managed to outdrink me.” He raised his forefinger. “A scandal, it is. A scandal indeed.”

  “It is a scandal that you should be drinking at all,” Eunice conveyed in her iciest tone. “I believe I shall summon the butler now. I came here to see Abigail, not to witness a drinking party. I can return another time.”

  “That is our misfortune,” Lord Giles observed. “For if you could stay, I believe you might learn more about your gentleman scholar.”

  Eunice kept her face frozen in a glare.

  “Look at your man now!” Lord Giles’s voice held accusation and disgust. “See how well he has learned his manners!”

  At that moment, Abigail descended the stairs. “Eunice! I am so sorry to keep you waiting. I—” She stopped short and looked at the two men. “Giles! Cecil! What are you doing?”

  Lord Giles lifted his glass. “A toast to the lady of the manor, Abigail.”

  Abigail gasped and clutched her hand to her throat. “Cecil, how could you? And Giles, how could you let him?”

  “You seem to believe that I have complete control over your brother-in-law, when, in fact, I do not.” Lord Giles puffed his cigar.

  “What are you thinking by bringing tobacco in the main hall?” Abigail admonished. “You know that smoking is not allowed anywhere in the house except the study.”

  “Ah, but we were in the study,” Lord Giles argued. “Is that not so, Cecil?”

  “It is so.”

  “Cecil,” said Abigail, “I am deeply disappointed in you.”

  “But he insisted,” Cecil answered. “He brought the wine, you know. I never could resist such a fine vintage—the year of my birth.”

  “How could you tempt him with port, Giles?” Abigail whispered, obviously too shocked to shout in anger. “You knew how hard he was working not to drink anymore.”

  “Really?” Lord Giles smirked. “Once I poured him a glass of wine, he put up very little resistance. He was a bit depressed when I first arrived. Now he is much happier. Can you not see that?”

  “He only seems happier. Drink, in fact, makes him miserable,” Abigail answered.

  “You have your opinion. I have mine.” Lord Giles looked at Cecil and sneered. “As for my opinion, I like him better this way.”

  Eunice watched as Abigail’s face grew redder than the filling of a cherry tart. “I want you out of my house this instant.” Her voice loud with anger, she pointed to the door.

  Lord Giles didn’t make a move to obey her request. “But Abigail, I am afraid this is not your house.”

  “How dare you!” Abigail slapped Cecil’s companion across the cheek with such force that he dropped his glass. It hit the floor and shattered, spilling its contents along with it.

  “A waste of perfectly good wine, I must say,” Cecil said.

  “Maybe your disobedient sister-in-law is the one who needs a good slap.” Lord Giles rubbed his face where her hand had made contact. A red mark was already beginning to show itself.

  “More likely I would like to slap your other cheek,” Eunice surprised herself with the sharp edge of her own voice.

  “Now that you have managed to anger both ladies, perhaps this is a good time for you to depart, Giles,” Cecil said.

  “And perhaps it is a good time for me to depart, as well,” Eunice said.

  “But you just got here,” Abigail protested.

  “That is quite all right. Another day would be better.”

  “Please.” Abigail grabbed her forearm as though the gesture would change Eunice’s mind.

  “Another time,” Eunice said.

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow? Abigail, you are always welcome to visit me. But because of what I witnessed here today, I am not sure I shall ever darken this door again.” Eunice turned to Cecil. “Aunt May was right about you. You have not changed a bit. You never will. And to think I defended you when she told me I could not see you again.”

  The threat brought Cecil back to life. He jumped out of his chair, looking improper in his stocking feet, and approached Eunice. “Please, Eunice. That is not true. I have changed. I promise.”

  Eunice wasn’t sure what to believe. Cecil’s words were just what she wanted to hear, yet the stench of wine and tobacco on his breath told another story. Too upset to conduct herself with dignity, she turned and hastened out of the house, practically running for her carriage.

  She had almost reached it when she felt a grip on her arm. Lord Giles was holding her cloak.

  “You will get wet and cold without this. I assure you, he is not worth your death of cold.”

  She startled. His voice had lost all indications of slurring, and his steps had gained their solidity. The man was more despicable than ever. Clearly, chastising him would bear no fruit.

  “Thank you.” She jerked the coat out of his hands as she felt a torrent of tears threaten. She turned her head and refused to face him.

  Lord Giles was not to be fooled. He took her by the arm and swirled her around, forcing her to look him in the eye. She tried to contort her expression into the image of pleasantness, but she knew she failed. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Shock was evident on his face. “You. . .you really do love that cad!”

  As much as she wanted to admit her feelings, she knew better than to answer.

  Her silent admission seemed to sober him. His voice became crisp and serious. “Miss Norwood, please, I beg your forgiveness. I never meant to hurt Cecil.”

  “Then why did you tempt him with tobacco and alcohol?”

  “I knew you would be visiting the estate today, just as you do every Monday afternoon. I wanted you to see for yourself that Cecil cannot really shake his love for drink, no matter what he says.”

  “The love of drink might always be a difficulty for him to overcome, but he had not touched a drop in months.”

  “How do you know?”

  Eunice shook with doubt. In reality, since she was not by his side every second of every day, she could never know for certain. Yet Cecil had told her something that
made her believe that he had a good reason never to touch a strong drink again. During the early stages of their acquaintance, Cecil had confessed to Eunice that when he first quit drinking, he fell sorely ill and had to take to his bed for a week. He refused to give her any details except to say that the experience was so awful, he never wanted to relive it. Because of his honest admission, Eunice was certain that Cecil had indeed kept his word to avoid wine. Her reasoning gave her the courage to face down Lord Giles.

  “Never mind how or why I know, but I am certain.” She sent him a steady gaze. “And even if he had experienced several relapses—which he has not, I assure you—there is no excuse for your behavior here today. Do you realize the damage you may have done? Do you realize you may have ruined his chances of conquering drink forever?”

  Remorse flooded Lord Giles’s face. “I did not mean him any harm. I am certain that a man of his strong constitution can recover quickly from this little relapse. I pray he will. He is my friend.”

  “Friend? How dare you call yourself his friend.”

  “I can see why you would think I am not a good friend to him. But Cecil had become my rival for your affections. At least, I had hoped so.” Lord Giles’s voice grew soft with defeat. “But now I see that he never was my rival. Long before I saw you, he had already won.”

  Her cheeks burned so hot that Eunice was sure they gave away her feelings.

  “Your failure to answer is response enough. Never fear, Miss Norwood. You will not need to concern yourself about me any longer. I shall be going to London on business next week. I do not know when I will return. I bid you good day.” He tipped his hat.

  She managed to bid him a good day before disappearing into the safety of her carriage, which would take her to the sanctuary of her home.

  Nine

  Eunice had much to contemplate on the ride back to her estate. Her mind swirled in every direction. None of the roads her thoughts traveled led to a happy destination.

 

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