Trimmed in Blue

by Sandra Sookoo

  “Good. Make use of her kindness.” Cecil relaxed slightly. “What worries you then? I can see it in your eyes.”

  “You always say that.”

  “It’s always true. Despite the ill that’s befallen you, you haven’t learned to hide your emotions.” He cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a sort of honesty that’s refreshing.”

  A trace of heat skimmed over her cheeks. It had been a long time since she’d let a man so close, both physically and emotionally. “I’m worried about you, actually.”

  “Me?” He frowned. “Whyever for?”

  Quickly, she relayed what she’d heard in the stables. “You’re to fight publicly on the morrow, Cecil.”

  “Yes.” Nothing about his manner indicated dissembling.

  “I didn’t know that, and from all accounts, your opponent is out of your league.”

  A grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth. What would it feel like to be kissed by this man? “What did you think a boxer does in his leisure time?”

  She shrugged, hoping to dislodge those inappropriate thoughts. “I don’t know much about you at all, it seems, for I certainly didn’t know you were a viscount’s son.” The missing information left her ill at ease, and her stomach tightened. “You haven’t told me anything about yourself.” She glanced away, suddenly wary. “You could be anyone, let alone a boxer.”

  Had it been a mistake to hire him as a teacher?

  “But I’m not. I’m merely me.” Cecil took one of her hands in his. “Louisa, look at me.” When she turned her head, he caught her gaze with his. “I’ll be fine during the match. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “How can you know that?” Her words were clipped and sharp, so great was her worry.

  “I feel it in my head and my heart. It’s something I’ll need to help you learn.” He flashed a grin that awoke a butterfly or two in her lower belly that she thought long dead. “There’s an impressive prize purse offered tomorrow. It’ll go a long way into helping my shop grow.” He rubbed a gloved thumb along her equally gloved knuckles. Heat trailed in its wake. “Besides, how can I improve as a fighter if I don’t go against bigger, more skilled opponents?”

  She hadn’t thought about the situation in those terms. Anxiety churned through her insides. Louisa clutched his free hand with hers. His eyes rounded. Surprise and pride glimmered in those stormy depths, for it was a big step for her, to deliberately touch a man—him. “Please tell me that coin isn’t more important than your safety.” She reveled in the strength of him, the solidness of his fingers both holding hers and beneath hers.

  “I don’t do this only for the blunt.”

  “Then why go through the risk?” She heard the panic in her own voice and marveled at it, for it wasn’t directed at her.

  His smile was soft and reassuring. “I do it for self-respect, to know I’m still worth something, for being the fourth son of a viscount doesn’t mean much. I should have told you but didn’t feel it was important to our partnership.” He paused, and never once did his gaze waver. “I want something for myself in life that is done by myself, without relying on anyone else.”

  “Oh.” Tears sprang to her eyes. In that moment, she felt a kinship with him. “You are worthy. At least to me. You’ve made a difference in my life.” Her smile was a watery affair. “There is no other man who would take my fears, my concerns seriously enough to help me do something about them instead of rushing in to rescue me from them.” Perhaps he’d make jest of her honesty, her temporary descent into weakness, but she couldn’t help it. No one had made the impression like he had.

  “I appreciate that, and I know how much it means for you to say such a thing.” Cecil squeezed her fingers. “Louisa, you must know that you are worthy as well. Never let any man’s opinion of you diminish the light inside you.” When she would have spoken, he shook his head. “From what little I’ve seen, there is no greater woman of strength, compassion, or determination I’ve had the honor of meeting.”

  “Oh, dear.” He certainly had a way with words. A silly tear fell to her cheek. “I haven’t had a kind word spoken to me since...” She repressed a sob. “...since before my husband’s affair became known. Perhaps before that.” Why did she admit it?

  “He didn’t deserve you.” Cecil released one of her hands and brushed at the tear. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he cupped her cheek.

  Louisa held her breath, not moving for fear their connection would break. The heat of his hand infused her, and she trembled, for the attitude inside the hackney cab had shifted. Tensions eased but awareness raised. “What are you doing?”

  “God knows, but I want to kiss you.” He peered into her eyes. There was nothing threatening in his gaze. “May I?”

  Warning bells pealed in her head. Don’t go down this road, Louisa. There is only heartbreak and disappointment at its end. But like everything else where Cecil was concerned, this felt different. Though the anxiety of the upcoming dinner knotted her stomach, something else lighter and warming rose to blanket it. She nodded. “Yes.” Why did her pulse leap wildly with that tiny word?

  Slowly, he edged his head closer to hers. “Are you certain?”

  “I am.” After all her wondering, she’d finally know what it would feel like to experience a kiss from him. “I trust you.”

  “I don’t take that lightly.” Then he moved, pressing his lips to hers. It had gone by too quickly for her to decide what his lips felt like. Cecil pulled back ever so slightly, watching her. “All right?” His whisper heated the lips he’d just touched.

  “Mmmhmm.” She couldn’t help the trembles playing over her body, but now they weren’t from fear. Every thought regarding the baron, her mother, or the viscount fled her mind. In this moment, there was only him.

  “Good.” He slid his fingers into her hair while still holding her other hand with his. Again, Cecil claimed her lips in a kiss so gentle it brought tears to her eyes. He moved over her mouth with the veriest pressure, neither demanding or taking, merely asking, introducing, soothing, and the care of it stole her breath. All too soon, he pulled away, and this time he didn’t repeat the kiss.

  Louisa’s world tilted, and for a few seconds she was dizzy from the confusing emotions coursing through her veins. “Oh.” She blinked as she stared at him, and when he dropped his hand, she mourned the loss of that special connection. But she knew one thing—this man had begun to change the way she thought of men in general. It was a positive step forward.

  “Indeed.” Surprise reflected in his eyes, along with something else she couldn’t quite see. His breath was as shaky as hers while he leaned back against the leather seat. “I meant to tell you earlier. That color suits you, makes you look vibrant. Don’t let the vipers at your upcoming dinner steal your entrance.”

  And like that, the wonder of that kiss faded, replaced once more by worry of her immediate future. “Thank you.” She glanced out the window. Somehow, they’d cleared the park and were approaching Mayfair. Her time in his company was nearly at an end. The urge to cry took hold, filled her chest with sorrow. Quickly, Louisa buried all traces of the emotion. “I suppose I must go face my dragons.” Oh, she felt so unprepared.

  “Remember, a fighter doesn’t gain experience, nor does she grow without a fearsome opponent.” He touched her fingers on the bench. “Believe in yourself.”

  “I shall try.” But it would be so much easier to enter this fight if Cecil were by her side. Somehow, he’d walked into her heart as if he’d belonged there, and now he was reordering the walls built around that organ in order to set her soul on fire.

  Oh, dear Lord, how will I survive?

  Chapter Nine

  I must have been out of my damn mind.

  Cecil glanced out the window on his side of the hired hack, but he didn’t see any of the Mayfair townhouses they passed, for his mind was whirring with a thousand questions and the residual shock from kissing the woman next to him.

&n
bsp; Why had he done it? What maggot had got into his brain and made him do such a thing? He scowled at his reflection when they passed beneath a gaslight. He knew why. Of course, he did. Once more, she’d opened up bits of her life to him, and that honesty and forthrightness had shone on her face, but it was the fear swimming at the backs of her eyes that had him reeling as if he’d been given a swift jab to the ribs.

  He didn’t want her to know that fear, that terror any longer. No woman should be threatened with violence or sexual attacks in a place that should be safe—or anywhere. And when she’d let slip the bit about a possible union between her and the vastly unsuitable viscount? The urge to protect her had overwhelmed him. No, he didn’t know her well, but during the course of their lessons, he’d come to understand her enough, and damn if he wasn’t impressed and intrigued.

  When she’d told him he was worthy, and tears had gathered in her eyes when he paid her praise? Well, bloody hell, he fell under her spell, which led to kissing. She hadn’t shied away, and the petal-softness of her rosy lips had begged for another. So he’d gladly given it, and though that tiny bit of intimacy was almost chaste, it had the power to undo him as much as any erotic overture could have done.

  What am I to do now?

  Beside him, Louisa stiffened. Her intake of breath alerted him to the change in her demeanor, and he turned his head in time to catch the dread marching across her face in the shadows. “What’s wrong?” This woman had gone through enough heartache and anguish in her lifetime; she didn’t need more.

  “We’ve arrived at the baron’s home.” Regret rode heavy on the words.

  When she lifted her gaze to his, his pulse ticked up to find those irises now more green than brown. Did that mean she thought about that kiss? Had she enjoyed it? He quelled those thoughts. This was not the time nor place. “Let me assist you down.” As soon as the cab rocked to a halt, Cecil was out of the vehicle in a flash. Like the nodcock he was, he ran to the other side of the carriage, and when she swung open the door, he extended a hand.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. As she stepped down, he caught a glimpse of a slim ankle above a beaded satin slipper.

  Awareness of her sneaked through him. Though it had started with that kiss, now the feeling was more prominent. All he wanted to do was toss her back into the cab and spirit her across London, far away from whatever awaited her inside that damned townhouse.

  But he didn’t have that right.

  Louisa peered up at him, the folds of her black cloak hiding her figure and letting her all too easily blend into the night. “I should go.” She gently slid her hand from his. “It wouldn’t do to give my mother something else to talk about.” When he stood there, as if struck dumb and mute, she pushed at his shoulder. “Please. Before the baron sees you, and there’s trouble.” The urgency in her voice finally spurred him to action.

  To the cabbie, he said, “We won’t need your services any longer.” Then he glanced briefly at her. “I’m not afraid of Althrop.” He took her elbow and propelled her around the cab and then through the gate.

  “Perhaps not, but I am.” Her whisper was barely audible. “He’ll be livid if he sees me with a man he didn’t approve.”

  “Damn it all, Louisa, you are not a slave nor beholden to him.” Beneath his gloved fingers, her trembles transferred to his hand, and his chest tightened. Before he could reply, an argument broke out from inside the house with male voices raised in anger.

  “That sounds like Jonas.” She broke away from him and ran up the short walkway. At the door, she wrenched it open and disappeared into the house.

  He followed at a more sedate pace. Did he really wish to observe a family squabble when his own parents were expecting him not two blocks away? But then the sound of flesh hitting flesh reached his ears and he hastened to the door. As he entered the house uninvited, the scene materializing before his eyes tugged at his heart and fired his sense of honor.

  The man he assumed was the baron loomed over a youth, which had to be Louisa’s brother. An angry red mark marred one cheek—no doubt the source of the slapping sound. His silver rimmed spectacles hung askew. He and William were of an age. The boy knelt on the high-polished floor amidst a few trunks and a carpetbag, while Louisa and another woman—her mother perhaps—stood watching in various stages of alarm.

  “You have the gall to come home and tell me you were sent down from Eton for bad behavior? Tonight, of all nights?” As the baron yelled, his face purpled with rage. His immaculate evening attire seemed out of place with his ire.

  The boy shook his head. “It’s all lies. I’ve done nothing to warrant expulsion.” He sent a frantic glance to Louisa as he situated his spectacles. Tears streaked down his cheeks. “Those bullies I told you about locked me in a gardener’s shed. By the time I got out, I was late for Latin. The professor sent me to the headmaster, who then said I was a bad influence on more serious students.” Then he looked at the older woman. “Please believe me.”

  “I do.” Louisa moved across the floor. She helped the youth to his feet. “I’ve always believed you, Jonas, for someone at that school is making your life miserable, and I have a good idea of whom.” She narrowed her eyes and looked straight at the baron. “What was the point of seeing him sent down? Now, you’ll have to pay for tutors and Jonas will be here, beneath your roof.”

  Cecil watched in silence. The tension in the entry hall had thickened so much he feared it would soon be visible as a new entity.

  “I can better discipline him than they can, for they only cane boys on occasion while I will do it every blasted day until the boy toughens up.” He sneered. “He’ll learn that society owes him nothing despite his blasted infirmaries, and he certainly won’t ride my coattails.”

  As if the lad had any intention of that. Cecil remained silent, but his muscles went taught as the urge to pummel Althrop grew strong.

  She stepped in front of the boy. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “This is my house, and I will be obeyed.” Hatred reflected in his eyes. “Viscount Wrycroft even now waits in the drawing room. It would behoove you to greet your future husband.” He glanced at the older woman. “Take Louisa and make the introductions. I’ll deal with the boy.”

  I’ll wager you will. Bastard. The time had come for Cecil to interfere. No, he wouldn’t make the dinner with his parents, but they would understand, and this was a more important endeavor. He cleared his throat, a couple of times, until everyone in the entry hall looked his way.

  “Who the devil are you, and why are you in my house?” Althrop had apparently forgotten his son as he edged toward Cecil.

  “The Honorable Cecil Carrington. Miss Harcourt visited my glassblowing shop earlier but had neglected to tell me a few details of the piece she wished to commission,” he said, the lie tripping easily off his tongue. “I decided to pay her a visit so I can immediately start on it tomorrow.”

  “Hmm, your name is familiar.” The baron narrowed his eyes. “Why would she visit a merchant without my authorization?”

  God, he despised men who controlled every aspect of other people’s lives. Cecil glanced at Louisa, hoping she would understand his unspoken cue. She stood poised as if for flight, her hand clenching her brother’s shoulder. What was another lie if it kept them safe? “I believe she mentioned she wanted a gift for her future bridegroom.” He wanted to vomit over the words, but it needed to be said.

  Louisa gasped. She shrugged out of the cloak and handed it to a footman, who’d sidled into the hall. “I didn’t—”

  The baron waved a hand in dismissal. “At least she’s finally using common sense.” He looked at Cecil. “You may go.”

  “Actually, I also wished to extend an invitation to her to do some paintings for me so that I might use them as advertising for my business.” That much was true. Plus, there was no way he’d leave and abandon Louisa or her brother, but before he could speak, the older woman came forward.

  “Good evening, Mr. Carrington. I�
��m Lady Althrop. Perhaps you could stay to dinner? We do have a guest, but it shouldn’t be a problem for the butler to add one more setting.”

  “I couldn’t impose...”

  Louisa seemed to remember herself. “It’s not an imposition.” She left her brother’s side to skirt the luggage and reach Cecil’s position. “I’ll show you to the drawing room.” Then she glanced over her shoulder. “Come, Jonas. I’ll introduce you.”

  The dynamic of the house and its occupants both intrigued and troubled him, but Cecil trailed after Louisa up the stairs with Jonas bringing up the rear due to his limp. Below, the baron bellowed for a man he assumed was the butler. No doubt to deal with the scattered luggage. Then another shout echoed, soon followed by a woman’s quickly stifled cry that skittered along Cecil’s nerve endings. Had the baron struck his wife?

  When they reached a closed door he assumed belonged to a drawing room, Louisa halted. She quickly turned to him. “What are you doing? You already have plans tonight.”

  “The dinner can be rescheduled. At the moment, I’m getting to know your situation better.” He looked at Jonas. How well he remembered the awkward stage where the limbs felts too long and the body too thin and when he had no idea how to talk to members of the opposite sex. “Hello. I’m Cecil Carrington.”

  “Call me Jonas. I know who you are.” The boy’s eyes brightened, and for the first time since Cecil had arrived, the young man flashed a smile. “You’re the boxer.” He shook his head. “I read all the articles about you in the papers.”

  Cecil couldn’t help his own grin. “Are you a fan of the sport?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Carrington. How marvelous it must be to pound the stuffing out of an opponent in front of a crowd.”

  He snorted. “There’s a fat lot more involved.”

  “Did you hear that, Louisa? He’s the boxer.” Jonas glanced at his sister with a wider goofy smile. “How did you come to know him?”

  Louisa chuckled, but the sound was forced. “That is a rather long story,” she whispered and jerked her head at the door. “We have other things to worry about right now.” The fear was back in her eyes, but when she peered at Cecil, some of the anxiety in her face eased. “I’m glad you’re here.”