Rescued from Ruin (17 page)

‘And were his improvements to your liking?’ The smile peeked out again and this time Lady Ellington made no attempt to hide it.

Cecelia felt her own wicked smile escaping until it spread to match Lady Ellington’s, not caring what she or any else thought. She was happy for the first time in two years and, even if it didn’t last beyond their time here, she would enjoy it. ‘Yes, the improvements are very much to my liking.’

Chapter Fourteen

C
ecelia, Lady Ellington and Theresa entered the assembly room, the lively music increasing the anticipation building in Cecelia since the garden. The gentlemen stood in groups along the edge of the hall, laughing and exchanging news from London. Their wives, adorned in their country finest, chatted together around the dance floor while their sons and daughters spun though the vibrant quadrille. Everyone here seemed more at ease than at Lady Weatherly’s ball and it reminded her of the many country balls she’d once attended in Virginia.

While Lady Ellington and Theresa searched the guests for Mr Menton, Cecelia looked for Randall, every tall man with dark hair making her heart stop until he turned and revealed himself to be a country gentleman.

Where is he?

She hadn’t seen him since the garden. He’d disappeared, sending word to Lady Ellington to leave for the ball without him, intending to follow behind on his horse. She wondered what kept him away and whether it was regret at having laid himself so bare or qualms at having finally dropped all pretence of friendship.

‘There he is,’ Theresa gasped and Cecelia stiffened, relaxing only when she realised her cousin wasn’t speaking of Randall.

Mr Menton wound his way through the crowd towards them, focused on Theresa, a smile as wide as hers lighting up his face. Cecelia breathed a bit easier. Randall was right, time had not changed his interest in Theresa.

‘Miss Fields, you have no idea how wonderful it is to see you again. I hadn’t expected it so soon,’ he exclaimed, not bothering to hide his excitement.

His pleasure was not shared by all. Across the room, Cecelia noticed a thin woman watching the exchange with hawk-like eyes, her disapproval evident in the quick tap of her folded fan against her palm. Cecelia guessed by her scrutiny, and the narrow jaw she shared with the young man, that it must be Lady Menton.

The room burst into applause as the music and the dance came to an end.

‘Miss Fields, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?’

Theresa accepted his invitation, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor, her new pink muslin gown with white embroidery floating around her as she walked. Theresa stood out in the dress, looking every inch the sophisticated London woman who possessed a fortune and lands. Paired with Mr Menton, they made a fine couple and more than one head turned to admire them.

‘I think our plan is working.’ Lady Ellington beamed as the young couple bounced and twirled through the lively steps.

‘Indeed.’ Cecelia tapped her foot in time with the music, her spirit buoyed by the festive atmosphere. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve seen her so happy.’

‘She isn’t the only one who deserves to be happy. Ah, here comes Randall now. I shall politely decamp to where the other ladies are standing.’

‘No, you don’t have to go,’ Cecelia choked out, warmth spreading low and fast inside her at the sight of him. He moved through the crush with long strides, people stepping out of his way as he approached them.

‘Of course I do.’ Lady Ellington walked away to join her friends, leaving Cecelia to face Randall alone.

The candlelight glowing overhead deepened the darkness of his hair and sharpened the angles of his cheeks. She touched the pendant hanging above the low neckline of her gown. She’d chosen to wear her black-silk dress embroidered with gold flowers because the fine thread captured the glimmer of the pendant, making it stand out against her chest. His eyes dipped down to where her hand rested, a knowing smile drawing up the corners of his mouth.

He stopped in front of her, his eyes penetrating and shadowed, and she clutched her fan, waiting to know how to face him.

His fingers swept the swell of her breasts as he slid them beneath the gold chain to cup the pendant. Her skin pebbled at the light touch, the music and chatter fading into the background like a distant waterfall. She didn’t care about the intimate exchange made in such a public place, nor what anyone who watched them might say. In this moment there was no one in the room but the two of them.

‘You don’t know how happy I am to see you wearing this,’ he said.

‘I have been for some time, only I kept it hidden.’

‘Why?’

‘I was embarrassed.’

He laid the gold gently on her chest, the heat of his hand tortuous above her skin. ‘Of me or the gift?’

‘Neither. I was afraid to show you how much it really meant to me.’

He brushed the curve of her cheek, pushing a small curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear and making the diamond earring dance.

‘Shall we go out to the balcony?’ he tempted and she looked up at him through her lashes.

‘I’m not sure I can court the dangers of such darkness.’

‘Then let’s stay here and see how your cousin fares.’ He moved to stand beside her, his hand brushing the side of her dress, the faint touch thrilling against her thigh. ‘There will be plenty of darkness for us to enjoy after the dance.’

If the afternoon without him had seemed long, the end of the assembly seemed an eternity to wait to be alone with him again.

‘Lord Falconbridge, good to see you,’ a male voice interrupted. Before them stood an older gentlemen and Lady Menton, her face pinched where her husband’s was wide and friendly.

‘Good evening, Sir Walter, Lady Menton,’ Randall greeted. ‘May I introduce Miss Fields’s guardian, Mrs Cecelia Thompson.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Thompson.’ Lady Melton’s lacklustre tone indicated it was anything but.

‘You don’t know how glad I am to meet you.’ Sir Walter bowed, an appraising twinkle in his eye. ‘Lately, Adam has talked of nothing except Miss Fields, wouldn’t you say so, dear?’

‘Yes,’ Lady Menton hissed with none of her husband’s cheer.

‘And it’s a great pleasure to meet the parents of such an affable young man,’ Cecelia flattered, but it did nothing to soften the woman’s stony look.

‘I’m hunting in the morning. Lord Falconbridge, care to join me?’ Sir Walter offered, rubbing his large hands together.

‘I’m afraid I can’t. I have other matters to attend to. Perhaps another time.’

The baronet’s eyes flicked to Cecelia before he shot Randall a knowing look. ‘With such a lovely woman at your side, I don’t blame you for not wanting to tromp through the forest at dawn.’

Beneath her tight brown curls, Lady Menton’s forehead wrinkled in disapproval and Cecelia tried not to laugh. She took no offence at the comment, the baronet delivering it with as much affection as a weathered old grandfather. It was Randall’s reaction which shattered her calm. He laced his fingers behind his back, the same stiffness she’d felt in him at the mention of marriage last night straightening his spine.

‘Since I can’t tempt you with pheasants, will you join me for a hand of cards?’ the baronet invited.

‘Yes, only allow me a moment with Mrs Thompson.’

‘I’ll save a chair for you. Mrs Thompson, it was a pleasure to meet you.’ He bowed, escorting his wife away then leaving her with some friends and making for the gaming room.

‘He seems like a pleasant gentleman,’ Cecelia offered and Randall shifted on his feet, his gaze everywhere but on her. ‘I can’t say the same about his wife.’

‘It’s as much as I expected from her. She’s ambitious for her son,’ Randall stated, the superior man who regularly appraised others in London sounding in his words. ‘When you see her at the garden party, be sure to mention the size of Theresa’s dowry. It’s sure to overcome any of her objections.’

On the dance floor, Mr Menton took Theresa’s hand to execute a turn and Cecelia touched the pendant, more than one hope dimming inside her. If Theresa’s happiness came down to money, then all was lost. She had no collateral to secure another loan from Mr Rathbone and no way to repay it even if he advanced her the funds.

‘Perhaps I should speak with her again, try to charm her,’ Cecelia suggested and Randall shook his head.

‘Wait until the party. Lady Menton will seek you out if only to curry favour with me and my aunt, which is exactly what you want.’

‘You’re very good at this game,’ Cecelia stated flatly.

‘I’ve been playing a different version of it for longer than I care to recall.’

‘Yes, it’s always about the game, whether here or in London,’ she snapped.

His jaw tightened. ‘If you wish to cease playing, you have only to say so, but I think you’ll find it isn’t an easy one to give up.’

She didn’t answer, knowing she was caught in her own game, one she’d been playing since the day she’d arrived in London. Now she played another with Randall and the Mentons. How long before she, too, forgot what it was like to live without all the manoeuvring and lies?

She looked at Randall. He watched the dancers with sharp eyes, his demeanour stiff with all the airs of his title and position. It was so different from the man who’d greeted her a few moments ago, or the one who’d kissed her in the garden. She pressed her lips together, remembering the urgency of his touch near the willow tree. Would he help her with Theresa’s dowry if she asked him? She wasn’t sure. Mr Robson might boast of Randall’s generosity, but he was a poor miller deserving of the rich lord’s charity. She was a woman perpetuating a lie and she couldn’t take advantage of Randall’s affection for her. If she did, then she was just as duplicitous as she had once accused him of being.

‘If you’ll excuse me, now is my chance to exert more of my influence on Mr Menton.’ Randall bowed and walked away.

Her heart dropped, sensing he left more to get away from her than to further Theresa’s cause. In private he might hold her as if afraid she would flee, but she saw how the passionate man faltered under the good-natured jibe of a country baronet. A heaviness settled over her and she sought out a small bench along the wall, hidden as much by the backs of the crowd as the shadows. In the privacy of the estate they could enjoy a certain intimacy, but in London she sensed people like Madame de Badeau would kill it faster than a new shoot in a hard frost.

Over the rising music, she barely heard the rustle of muslin as a young lady stepped in front of her.

‘Mrs Thompson?’

Cecelia looked up at a round-faced girl not much older than Theresa. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m Miss Caufield. I know you must think me impertinent, but you being so close to Lord Falconbridge and his family, I must speak with you.’

‘I don’t think you impertinent at all.’ Cecelia motioned to the bench and the girl took the empty seat beside her.

‘I’m Lord Westbrook’s fiancée.’ The girl fingered a bow on the skirt of her dress. ‘You know what transpired between Lord Falconbridge and Lord Westbrook?’

‘Yes. Do you wish me to speak to Lord Falconbridge about restoring Lord Westbrook’s property so you might wed?’

The girl’s face scrunched with confusion, then she shook her head. ‘No, not at all, for Lord Falconbridge has already forgiven the debt.’

It was Cecelia’s turn to be confused. ‘He did? When?’

‘In London.’

‘On what terms?’

‘None, except Lord Westbrook is not to visit London for three years until people have forgotten the incident.’

‘Lord Falconbridge returned Lord Westbrook’s fortune.’ It seemed beyond belief for Randall to show compassion to someone in society and ask nothing but their silence in return, but the girl said it with enough heartfelt gratitude for her to know it was true.

‘He even suggested a stock to invest in. Because it promises to turn quite a profit, my parents have allowed us to marry, though for the moment I must keep silent, in accordance with Lord Falconbridge’s wishes. I can’t tell you what his generosity has meant to us.’

‘I can well imagine.’

‘Please don’t tell him I told you, but if you could find a way to thank him for me, I would very much appreciate it. We both would.’

‘I will. Of course.’

An older woman with the same brown eyes and round face as the young lady waved to Miss Caufield. ‘That is my mother. I must go. Thank you, Mrs Thompson.’

Cecelia nodded, not sure how else to respond or what to think about Randall.

* * *

The large clock in the hall chimed the late hour as Randall strode in from the stables, pulled off his riding gloves and tossed them on a table. Sir Walter’s comment about Cecelia still nagged at him and riding behind the carriage from the assembly had done nothing to settle his annoyance at the baronet or himself. He should have ignored Sir Walter’s ill-conceived joke, trusted his better judgement and not allowed London ways to rule him, but the familiar habit proved difficult to break.

He slapped the dust from his breeches, the dirt of a horse preferable to riding with the ladies and enduring another round of Cecelia’s disapproving looks. In the assembly, when he’d seen the pendant hanging around her neck, he’d thought they’d put an end to such nonsense. He should have known better.

Upstairs, the ladies’ voices drifted down from the hall. He started up, then paused, tempted to wait for silence. No, he wasn’t about to hide down here in the dark. He grabbed the thick railing and took the stairs two at a time. If Cecelia was still in the hallway when he reached it, then so be it.

Light flickered in the centre of the hallway as Randall reached the last step. Cecelia stood by her open bedroom door, arms crossed. She was only a short distance from him, but the gap felt wider.

He strode towards her, expecting to be reprimanded like some schoolboy and determined to ignore it.

‘You gave Lord Westbrook his lands back,’ she said, her soft voice breaking the tense quiet.

He jerked to a stop before her. He hadn’t expected this. ‘How do you know?’

‘His very grateful intended approached me at the assembly.’

He clasped his hands behind his back. ‘She wasn’t supposed to speak of it.’

‘She asked me to find a way to thank you.’

‘Then she has succeeded.’

Cecelia studied him, the warm light dancing in the diamonds dangling from her ears. ‘Every time I think I know you, you change. It seems I can never be sure of who I’ll be with whenever we’re together.’

Her steady voice harried him more than all the anticipated chastisements, but he held his stance, refusing to be brought to heel. ‘I’m the man you spent today with, just as I’ve always been.’