Cecil responded. “I promise that my intentions toward your niece are nothing less than honorable. I admire and respect her more than any other woman of my acquaintance.”
“No doubt she deserves your admiration and respect more than any other woman of your acquaintance.”
“If I may respectfully remind you, Auntie, my friend Abigail is his sister-in-law.”
“Even Abigail pales in comparison to you, Eunice,” Cecil said.
Eunice swallowed. What could she say to such a compliment?
Aunt May pointed her finger in the air. “See? That is exactly what I mean. I come in here and interrupt a conversation on forgiveness, only to have you both deny you were talking about anything, and now you are saying Eunice is superior to her godly friend. And you would have me believe that there is no intrigue between you?”
“I was merely trying to salvage what might be left of our friendship,” Cecil protested. “You see, I behaved badly yesterday, and Eunice was unfortunate to witness the worst of it.”
“Impossible. Eunice does not frequent gaming halls. How dare you insinuate that she should see you in a state of drunkenness.”
“I beg your most kind indulgence,” Cecil said. “I did not mean to imply for a moment that Miss Norwood would even consider patronizing anything but the most upstanding and respectable establishments. No, my deed was even more shameful. I indulged myself in the confines of my own home, knowing full well that my sister-in-law and my dear little niece—my namesake Cecilia—were present elsewhere in the house. I am truly ashamed of my behavior.” His downturned lips and sad eyes confirmed his feelings.
“But you are not entirely to blame,” Eunice couldn’t help but note. “Lord Giles tempted you on purpose so I would see you fall.”
“Did he?”
Eunice nodded. “He admitted so himself.”
Aunt May’s eyebrows shot up. “There, Lord Sutton. Surely you will be man enough to step aside and allow a worthy man, Lord Giles, to court Eunice. After all, you are on the brink of an engagement yourself.”
Eunice watched Cecil swallow. “You did not tell me this before.”
“I–I. . . ”
Cecil’s mouth twisted into an unhappy line. “Of course. He knew Tedric would be away in the village and that you were supposed to come by and give me another lesson. He deliberately tempted me with wine and tobacco so I would appear to be badly behaved in front of you. Why, that rogue!”
“May I remind you, Lord Sutton, that you are in the presence of ladies?” Aunt May said. “That will be enough of such foul language.”
“I beg your pardon, Lady May. And yours as well, Miss Norwood.” He sighed. “If this were my grandfather’s day, a trick such as the one Giles employed on me would have been enough to challenge him to a duel.”
“Thankfully, this is not your grandfather’s day. A duel would solve nothing and leave you both wounded or worse,” Eunice observed. “Please try to hold back your anger. I understand why you feel betrayed. You have every right to feel that you could trust a friend. And Lord Giles, by his treachery, has proven that he is not your friend.”
“Friend or not, he accepted wine from Lord Giles,” Aunt May said.
“And I was a cad to do so. I never should have taken the first drop.” Cecil turned pleading eyes toward Eunice. “Eunice, I beg you to forgive me.”
Eunice never could resist Cecil when he looked at her with those blue eyes. “Of course I can forgive you.”
“And what about the next time—and the next?” Aunt May asked.
“There will be no next time,” Cecil assured her.
“Really?” Aunt May persisted. “What evidence can you provide to show me that I should trust you?”
“I realize my reputation is not the best, but I am trying to improve. I had given up strong drink and tobacco for nearly six months before yesterday.”
Aunt May gasped. “How is anyone to know you have not resumed your bad habits altogether?”
“I have not.”
“I believe him,” Eunice confirmed. “You are near enough to observe for yourself that there is no odor of tobacco stench upon his clothing. Nor is there a hint of drink upon his breath.”
“Agreed.” Aunt May looked at the clock on the mantel. “Yet it is only ten in the morning. The day is young.”
“And the day shall draw to a close without my becoming intoxicated or lighting a cigar of any kind,” Cecil promised.
“How you spend your time, whether sober or inebriated, is no concern of mine,” Aunt May said in disgust. “Unless. . .” She turned her eyes toward Eunice. “He said you witnessed the worst of his behavior.”
“I am afraid so.”
“When he was drunk, did Lord Sutton offend you in any way?”
“Oh, no, Aunt May. I–I mean, his singing was enough to make a dog howl, but he never laid a hand on me or tried to kiss me—”
“Eunice!” Aunt May waved her fan as furiously as though she were trying to ward off the heat of an afternoon in deep summer.
“Forgive me.” She felt her face flush hot. “That is what you meant, is it not?”
“I suppose, but you know a lady never utters such intimate concerns aloud!” She stomped her foot and turned to Cecil. “You have been nothing but a poor influence on my niece ever since the day you set eyes upon her. Despite your title and your position as the eldest son of a fine family, she has no business involving herself with the likes of you. Did you know that Eunice was not visiting Sutton Manor today in order to give you another etiquette lesson?”
“No, Lady May. I assumed she planned to give me a lesson.”
“She did not. I had instructed her to tell you that you are forbidden to see her again. I told her to write a letter, but she wanted to tell you herself, in person. I knew then that such kind consideration was more than you deserved, but I gave in to her wishes, knowing her tender heart. And to think that she found you in a drunken state! No wonder she was unable to tell you my verdict. Well, I shall tell you now in no uncertain terms. I forbid you to see my niece in the future. Am I understood?”
Cecil looked into Aunt May’s eyes. For an instant, it seemed as though he planned to argue. Yet Aunt May, though short and plump and wearing a frock fashioned of a light gray wool, looked like a warship ready to shoot its cannons. Eunice knew that debating her was a useless exercise when she had worked herself up to such a state. She was thankful that Cecil could apparently draw the same conclusion.
“I understand, Lady May, and I will respect your wishes.”
“Good. You must understand that this means that Miss Norwood will not be visiting Sutton Manor in the future. There will be no more etiquette lessons for you.” She sniffed. “Although no doubt, you could certainly use plenty more.”
“I know I have no right to ask any favors of you, but if you could consider granting me one—not for myself, but for your niece—I would be grateful,” Cecil implored. “Please do not forbid her to visit the estate. I will make good on my promise to keep myself in another wing of the house during Miss Norwood’s visits. I do not wish for my foolish lapse in judgment to interfere with the conviviality that Eunice and Abigail enjoy.”
Aunt May thought for a moment. “Do you promise?”
“Yes. You have my word as an earl.”
She scrutinized him for a moment before reaching her decision. “Then I will take you at your word.”
Cecil nodded to her aunt, then sent Eunice the curt nod she would expect from a mere acquaintance. At that moment, she realized how much she had enjoyed her easy camaraderie with Cecil. She knew she would miss him more than she could say.
“Well!” Aunt May said as soon as the door shut behind Cecil. “Good riddance. Let his feet never darken our door again.”
“Did you have to be so harsh, Aunt May?”
“Indeed I did! I heard what he said about Lord Giles. I was right! He does want to court you! Now there is not a thing to hold you back. With my verdict in place,
Lord Sutton cannot lay the slightest claim upon you. Oh, what a joyous day this is for the Norwoods. Your uncle would be so proud of your prospects here.”
“Yes, Auntie.” Eunice knew her voice held little enthusiasm. She didn’t have the heart to tell her aunt that she had spurned Lord Giles without so much as a morsel of regret or that he was clearly aware that she had no interest in being courted by him—ever.
“Now our little dinner party has become even more urgent,” Aunt May said. “We must hurry to decorate the house. Just last Sunday, the brigadier general was asking us when we planned to open the house. Once we are ready, he will be so pleased.”
“No more pleased than you, I can see.” In spite of the awfulness of the day, Eunice was nevertheless happy to see her aunt enjoy the prospect of entertaining. As they became well acquainted with more people in the parish, the list of invitees had grown. Each name added increased Aunt May’s anticipation.
If only Cecil could be a part of their evening. But he could not. Not after her aunt had spurned him.
Lord, she prayed in silence, I know Aunt May wants what is best for me. Please give me the strength to obey her guidance with the utmost cheerfulness. In the precious name of Thy Son, amen.
❧
Over the next few weeks, Eunice visited Abigail more than usual. To her disappointment, Cecil kept his word and never so much as entered the room where she and Abigail shared tea. She had taught him how to be a gentleman. Too well, it would seem.
Eunice confided the news of her aunt’s edict to her friend. Abigail commiserated but offered no alternative or aid in changing her aunt’s mind. Eunice always inquired after him and, to her comfort, received glowing reports that he was keeping away from his forbidden habits. Abigail told Eunice she could claim victory in how she had aided Cecil’s change of lifestyle. What little reward, when she could never look upon his face, hear his voice, or relish his nearness. As she entered and exited her carriage, she surveyed the yard and windows of the manor house, hoping to see him even from a distance, even for a moment. But her efforts were in vain.
She missed him. More than she had ever missed anyone before in her life. And there was not a thing she could do to change the situation.
❧
Cecil heard the clapping of horses’ hooves against the drive.
“Who could that be?” They weren’t expecting any visitors. For an instant, his heart beat with hope. Could it be Eunice?
So what if it were? A visit from Eunice would only mean he would be required to dash up the stairs to the solitude of his room, where he could be neither seen nor heard.
He sighed. He had agreed to keep under wraps during her visits and, so far, he had managed to keep his word. From his lonely room upstairs, he could hear Abigail and Eunice laughing as they took tea like two of the happiest schoolgirls in all of England. Just hearing her voice tortured him when he could not see her or speak with her even in a casual greeting. After each of her visits, Cecil queried Abigail about her—what she wore, how robust she appeared, what she had to say. Abigail always reported that Eunice inquired after him. It was a small comfort, but he accepted her interest as the best he could do for the time being. Or forever.
He wished he had never made such a preposterous agreement to stay out of Eunice’s sight. What had he been thinking? A rash statement, to be sure, to appease an angry aunt.
“Father in heaven,” he prayed. “Help me to stop reacting with my emotions rather than my reason.”
A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have uttered a prayer, and certainly not one so impromptu. Yet since he had kept abreast of his Bible reading, Cecil had begun to consult the Lord more often. A change in his general attitude and outlook on life quickly followed suit.
He wished Eunice could see him now. Rather than setting him back and leading him down the road to drink, Cecil’s error with Giles had only firmed his resolve not to relapse.
But since he had made the promise, he knew he would have to disappear should his visitor be Eunice. He peered out of the parlor window. As soon as he saw the carriage, he readily identified his visitor.
“Olivia.”
Eleven
What was Olivia doing here? Why had she journeyed all the way from London? The year was not quite up, so surely the purpose of her visit wasn’t to stake her claim to him.
Cecil watched her emerge from the carriage. Elegant as always, she wore a soft muslin frock. The dress was cut more daringly than it should have been for daytime, but whether the time be day or night, Olivia was never one to shy away from displaying her well-formed figure. The bright yellow color of the fabric and feathered hat did wonders for her complexion and set off her brown hair. She made a pretty sight, indeed. Whatever her reasons for making the trip, they were important, as clearly her manner of dress was calculated to get his attention.
Yet without making a conscious effort to do so, he imagined Eunice wearing such a dress. Even though she would never consider such a daring cut, she would certainly have appeared just as stunning—even more so. He remembered the first night he had seen Eunice, at the ball in London. She had been wearing a cast-off dress of Olivia’s. Even then she shone above all the other women. Now that she was home and privy to her own seamstress, Eunice always appeared in flattering yet modest clothing in colors meant to suit her blond complexion and creamy skin.
He tried to shake the image of Eunice out of his head. What was the matter with him? He had no right to think about her, especially with Olivia just steps away from his front door.
Forcing himself to concentrate on unanticipated business, he decided he should try to look his best. Cecil rushed up the stairs to his room so he could freshen up quickly before greeting her. At the top of the landing, he nearly bumped into Luke in his haste.
“Good. There you are. I was just about to ring for you.”
“Yes, milord?”
“We have an unexpected visitor—Lady Olivia Hamilton. Have tea prepared for her and escort her into the parlor. I shall be available to greet her in but a moment.”
“Yes, milord.”
Once he had arrived in the shelter of his room, Cecil inspected his reflection in the mirror. Thankfully, he had shaved recently enough so that no new beard growth was evident. Since he wouldn’t be wearing a hat while indoors, he smoothed his hair and made sure each strand was in place. He splashed on a bit of bay rum scent and allowed Luke to assist him into a frock coat suitable for the afternoon. The blue tie he had donned earlier that day still had not become rumpled. He brushed off his boots and, with one final look in the mirror, decided he cut a dashing figure, indeed. He was ready to see Olivia.
As he descended the stairs, he heard Abigail chatting with his visitor. Their voices sounded pleasant enough. Apparently Olivia, known to be flighty and easily offended, had not come in a fit of rage over some imagined slight. He exhaled a sigh of relief.
He puffed out his chest and entered the room with a confident stride. “Good morning, Abigail.” He nodded.
“Good morning.”
He set his sights on the picture in yellow. “Olivia, my dear. How lovely to see you.” He lifted her wrist to his lips. His gallant gesture usually caused Eunice’s soft hands to tremble with obvious delight. Olivia gave him no discernible response.
“Oh, good,” Abigail noted. “Here is the tea.”
“Will you not stay?” Cecil asked.
“Thank you, but no. I am taking tea with Tedric in the study.” Abigail tilted her head toward Olivia. “I hope you will be staying for dinner?”
“Yes, by your leave.”
“But of course.” She smiled and departed.
Olivia didn’t delay in settling herself into the red upholstered wing chair that was Cecil’s comfortable favorite. She looked about the room, surveying the carved ceiling, the wallpaper that depicted dancing couples, the hardwood floors, and the patterned Oriental rug, as though she were already the mistress of the manor. “My, but I hardly remember the last time I vi
sited here. It has been so long. Too long,” Olivia said. “This place has not changed at all. I rather feel as though I am coming home.”
“Indeed? After living in London all your life, I imagine you would find the country boring after only a week.”
She looked around the room once more. “A woman can change her mind, you know.”
Cecil felt uneasy. The references to feeling at home and changing her mind were certain to foreshadow news for him—unwelcome news at that. He watched the woman he was supposed to marry as she sipped her tea. He knew many of his friends married for expediency rather than love, but he was in a social and financial position to choose a suitable wife from an array of aristocratic women. Suddenly, he knew why he had been a bachelor all these years. No woman—including Olivia—had made him experience any feelings beyond pleasant companionship. Until he met Eunice.
He listened only with half an ear as Olivia prattled about the latest gossip from their friends and foes in London. Her tongue was sweet when speaking about those who were popular or for whom she had some fondness. The same tongue became bitter when she referred to her rivals. Her news was a listing of which parties were grandest, which women were dressed the most fashionably, and who spurned whom or who loved whom.
Months ago, he would have found such scandal broth amusing. He might even have cheered for the winners and rejoiced in the defeats of those he didn’t favor. But today, as Olivia spoke on and on, he realized that very little she had to say was of any interest to him.
He couldn’t help but notice that her monologue avoided mention of one London resident in particular. “Tell me, Olivia,” he asked, “how is Lord George?”
“George?” Olivia’s mouth dropped open slightly. Her hand trembled so that her cup and saucer rattled. The tinkling noise reverberated throughout the room. “Fine.”
“Really? You seem distressed.”
Lady And The Cad Page 13