The Princess & the Pea (21 page)

"What kind of activity?" Curiosity tempered with suspicion shone in Emily's eyes.

"You simply would not believe it, Em." Cece leaned forward eagerly. "First Sir Humphrey attempted to waylay me in my room—"

Emily gasped. "The beast! Are you all right?"

Cece waved aside her concern. "I wasn't there at the time. Then Lady DeToulane crept to Lord Radcliffe's room—"

"No!" Emily's eyes widened with shock.

"Yes indeed," Cece nodded. "She tried to tell me she had difficulties sleeping."

Emily snorted disparagingly. "The very idea. To think she would attempt to fool you with such a feeble excuse when her true purpose was so blatantly obvious."

"What on earth do you know of such goings-on?" Cece said warily.

Emily cast her sister a superior smile. "You're not the only one who is well aware of the realities of modern life, as well as the relationships between men and women. I do not agree with half of your so-called progressive ideas, but I think it's advisable to know what one is facing."

Cece's eyes widened in surprise. "You've been reading."

Emily nodded smugly. "Of course I have."

"I never suspected," Cece murmured, staring at her sister with newfound respect. "I am impressed."

"Thank you." Emily tossed her a self-satisfied grin.

"Obviously there is no need to explain to you why you cannot be wandering the halls at this hour."

"Obviously." Puzzlement drew Emily's brows together. "Just for the sake of clarification, explain it to me anyway."

Cece sighed. Regardless of what Em thought about herself, regardless of what she read, she was still an innocent. And Cece wanted to keep it that way. "We wouldn't want you caught up in any land of disgraceful activity. Your mere presence among such indiscreet occurrences could involve you, however indirectly, in scandal."

For the first time Emily appeared distinctly apprehensive. "What should I do?"

"I suggest you give up any idea of going anywhere other than your own room, and when you get there lock the door behind you. I'll watch to make certain of your safety." Cece opened the door a crack and peered out. "I believe the coast is clear."

"Thank you." Emily brealhed a grateful sigh. The sisters stepped cautiously into the hall and turned toward Emily's room. A door creaked farther down the corridor. The girls exchanged frantic glances and leapt for the sanctuary of Cece's room. Swiftly, they pulled the door nearly closed, leaving it open the merest inch: not wide enough to be seen, but more than sufficient to provide a clear view of the hall.

Sofia Cresswell crept quietly down the corridor, paused at a door, then silently turned the knob and entered the room.

A strangled gasp emanated from Emily.

"The hussy!" Emily threw open the door and indignantly started toward the room Sofia had just entered. Cece grabbed the collar of her robe and yanked her back, snapping the door closed behind her.

"Where do you think you're going?" Cece demanded.

Emily planted her hands on her hips. Outrage stormed in her eyes. "Do you know whose room that tart went into?"

Cece racked her brain, but the answer eluded her. No doubt her sister's unexpected ire clouded her mind. "I don't—"

"It's Quentin's." Emily said sharply. "That—that—that creature is in Quentin's room."

Cece studied her sister carefully. "I know this kind of behavior is shocking, but why on earth—" Realization dawned on her abruptly. "You like him, don't you?"

Enuly raised her chin a notch. "I more than like him."

"You're not telling me you're in love with him?" Cece stared in astonishment. Why hadn't she seen this coming?

Emily nodded slowly. "I don't know for certain. It does feel like it could be love. I'm not sure that he sees me as much more than a child. I certainly have the oddest sensations around him. A strange yearning, an annoying frustration, complete and total confusion—"

"Oh dear," Cece shook her head despairingly. "That's love, all right."

"It's not at all what I expected," Emily said forlornly.

"I'm sure it gets better," Cece said staunchly, adding under her breath, "it has to."

"What do I do about that?" Emily gestured helplessly in the direction of Quentin's room.

Cece furrowed her brow in concentration. "Obviously we must get her out of there before anything untoward occurs."

"How?" Emily nearly wailed the word.

Cece cast her a condescending smile. "Simple, Em. We knock on the door."

Cece pulled open her own door and took a resolute step toward Quentin's chamber just as the door to his room unexpectedly opened. This time it was Emily who jerked her sister back into their hiding place. Cece stood, Emily kneeling below her, and both girls watched the unfolding scene in rapt attention.

A sleep-ruffled Quentin ushered a protesting Sofia into the hall. "I am flattered, my dear, truly I am, but I choose to keep my chambers to myself on this occasion. When I wish a lady, even one with charms as noticeable as yours, in my bed I will let her know. In addition, I prefer to be the visitor, not the visited. I am not particularly fond of unexpected guests in the middle of the night."

"But. Quentin ..." Sofia leaned against his chest and fluttered her eyelashes up at him in a gesture of coquettish adoration. Cece could have sworn a growl came from her sister, below. "I thought surely after all we shared tonight..."

Quentin gently but firmly disentangled her clasping arms. "Sofia, we sat next to one another at dinner. We chatted amicably before and afterwards. You and I shared little more than total strangers."

"But I thought..." Sofia pouted prettily.

"I believe you did not think at all." Quentin cast her a cool look. "I would suggest returning to your chamber at once before we attract any attention here. I cannot imagine what your father might say."

Sofia tossed her loose blond hair over her shoulder in a gesture of defiance, but even in the dim light Cece could see her face had paled. "My father lets me do what I wish. Still, perhaps it is best to end this." She lowered her head and peeked up at him flirtatiously. "Another time perhaps?"

"Sofia, I have run into my share of young ladies like you before." Quentin said patiently. "I have learned firsthand, and through the similar experiences of friends, precisely what the end result of an evening such as the one you propose would entail. I have no desire to acquire additional obligations or responsibilities, and I do not intend to satisfy any claim of dishonor with a forced marriage." He smiled politely. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite." Sofia said with an angry glare. She spun around and flounced down the hall.

"Good night." Quentin called softly, and chuckled at the retreating figure. He turned to step into his room, paused and swiveled back to the empty corridor. "Good night, Emily. Good night, Cece."

The sisters slammed the door shut and stared at each other with horror.

"How embarrassing," Emily said, a stricken look on her face. "I am mortified."

"Nonsense, Em, we did nothing wrong."

"We eavesdropped on a private conversation," Emily groaned.

"Don't be absurd," Cece said confidently. "It was quite inadvertent. Besides, this hallway tonight is more public than a train station, with all the comings and goings."

"It does seem to be busy," Emily frowned in concern. "Do you think we should tell Mother and Father about all this?"

"Dear me, no," Cece said quickly. "In fact, it would be best if we kept this entirely to ourselves."

"Do you really think so?" Emily asked dubiously.

Cece nodded briskly. "Yes indeed. I think the wisest course is to completely ignore it. I have no idea if this kind of activity is typical in British country houses, or if this is just an unusually licentious gathering. Regardless, for the moment let us pretend we have seen nothing."

"If you insist," Emily said doubtfully.

"I do." Cece opened her door and cast her glance up and down the hall. For now. it appeared quiet. She gestured at Emily to go ahead. "I will watch to make certain you reach your room unmolested. And, Em ... be sure and lock your door behind you."

Emily nodded and hurried to her room. Cece waited until her sister disappeared behind the closed door and she heard the click of the lock, then turned, closed and locked her own door behind her.

She leaned against the solid barrier and smiled ruefully. This was an extremely enlightening evening. Who would have dreamed of such occurrences? The thought struck her again as to the odd makeup of this party of Lady Olivia's. It seemed a prescription for scandal. She shook away the disquieting idea. Surely a woman who was so concerned over the standards of a potential daughter-in-law would never deliberately throw such a combustible mix of guests together. It was coincidence, nothing more.

Cece picked up her book from the bed where she'd tossed it in the excitement of the evening and yawned. It seemed she no longer needed assistance to sleep. She placed the volume on a nearby table, extinguished the lamp and fell back into bed. Once evasive, sleep now seemed to welcome her like a long lost love.

She snuggled against the pillow and an unbidden thought danced in her mind. What would she have done if Jared had come to her door tonight? Would she have turned him away or welcomed him into her bed? The man already had full claim on her heart. Would anything more truly be so wrong? The questions and possible answers brought an unthinking smile to her lips.

Just before oblivion claimed her, in a last corner of her mind still fighting the blissful hire of sleep, a tiny thought nagged at her. Lady Olivia was not the type of woman to accept, or allow, coincidence.

"... therefore if I move the tiller like this, the automobile should ..." Cece perched in Jared's motorcar in its usual spot in the stables, her brow furrowed in concentration.

It was a lovely brow, capping the most remarkable eyes he'd ever seen. Not unlike rich chocolate—and he did so love chocolate—they were a deep, bittersweet color with occasional smoldering flashes of fire. Her skin was a counterpoint of cream and peaches. It was something of a shame, how well her brains equaled her beauty. While intelligence was a quality he would grudgingly admit he could appreciate in a wife, it made his effort to avoid allowing her to drive his automobile far more difficult than anticipated. Why, he'd already taught her nearly everything he could without actually moving the vehicle, and had drilled her on most points repeatedly.

There was nothing left to do but gracefully admit defeat. Unless ...

She leaned forward, studying the instruments necessary to operation of the vehicle. A few errant tendrils of lush walnut hair escaped the confines of the coiffure high on her head and teased the back of her neck. It was an irresistible picture. A delightful scene. A siren call he could not ignore. And the perfect opportunity.

He bent toward her and lightly brushed his lips against a fascinating spot midway between her hairline and the neck of her dress. At first she seemed not to notice. He continued, his touch light and provocative.

She froze.

"Jared?" Her tone was cautious. "Whatever are you doing?"