Feeling slightly calmer now, Cecilia descended the stairs to the smell of freshly-baked bread and savory beef stew. Mrs. Williams was setting the table, and her father and Archie exited the workshop shortly after she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Once everyone was seated at the table, their bowls filled with stew, Cecilia’s father said, “Cece, tell us about your meeting with the Duchess, what did she wish to discuss?”
“Well, Papa, she actually wanted to discuss finances,” Cecilia answered him.
Her father looked surprised at this news, as well as concerned. “What about the finances?” he asked, “there will be no difficulty with the remainder of her payment will there?”
“No, no, not at all!” Cecilia said quickly, hoping to alleviate his fears. “In fact, it is quite the opposite. It turns out that Sir James Wiltshire is a tenant of the Lymington family, and the Duchess is aware that he is seeking to collect the debt.”
This was all true, strictly speaking. Cecilia could not bring herself to report to her father that the Duchess had not just found out about Sir James collecting the debt, but had in fact encouraged him to do so. If she had never developed romantic feelings for Nicholas, none of this would have happened, and she felt ashamed at having been part of the cause of her father’s worries.
“Oh dear, what must the Duchess think of me?” her father fretted.
She thinks nothing of you, except that your daughter is not worthy of marrying her son.
“Well, she thought it unlikely that you would be able to pay the debt in full and immediately,” Cecilia said, once again telling the truth in the strictest sense of the word, but changing the meaning entirely. “She offered to settle the debt on your behalf.”
“She…what?” her father asked, looking as confused as if Cecilia had just sprouted wings. “Why would she do that?”
Cecilia had worried that he would ask this question. For a moment she had considered telling him the truth, but something held her back—something that she could not quite name. She had decided on a different explanation. It was not the most believable story, but she was hopeful that her father would accept it in desperation.
“Her Grace is kind and generous,” Cecilia said, feeling as though she might choke on these words as she said them. “It pleases her to help those less fortunate than her, and she appreciates the hard work that we have done for her family these past several weeks. I suppose she imagines that if we lose our home and workshop we will not be able to finish her order, and she cannot risk a delay.”
Her father simply stared at Cecilia as she told this story, his mouth open, slightly. Archie, on the other hand, looked at her skeptically, his eyes narrowed.
“That certainly is kind and generous of Her Grace,” he said. “I had not the impression from our first meeting that she was the sort of person to help others in need. But I suppose people often surprise you.”
“I suppose they do,” Cecilia replied, giving Archie a pointed look that was meant to communicate that he should drop this subject. She was not sure whether he had received the message, but luckily her father was still so shocked by the news that he seemed not to be listening.
“Why did the Duchess request to meet with you and not your father, Cecilia?” Archie asked, “Did she say?”
Cecilia looked at Archie, searchingly for a moment, Why is he asking this? Is he simply making conversation, or does he suspect that there is another reason?
“She did not say,” Cecilia replied, firmly. “I can only assume that she did not wish to take Papa away from his work, and thought that I would be more easily spared for the day.”
“Well,” Archie said, with a wink and a smile at Cecilia, “more fool she, you are the most productive person in our shop!”
Cecilia rolled her eyes at this, but could not help giving Archie a smile in return.
* * *
Nicholas woke late the following morning. He had remained at the club with his friends until the small hours of the morning. Upon returning to Westfield’s townhouse, he had spared just a few moments to complete a letter to Cecilia that he had started earlier that day, before settling in to bed.
Nicholas had fallen asleep quickly and slept soundly. His dreams had been of nothing but Cecilia, sometimes they were holding hands and strolling down a country lane, sometimes they were discussing their lives before meeting one another. And at other times, they were doing things that would surely have made her blush if he told her about the dream.
Nicholas laid in bed for a few moments, enjoying the pleasant memory of the most recent dream. In this one, he and Cecilia had been alone together in a small cottage, hidden in the woods. He had known, with absolute certainty, that no one would come to disturb them, and they had lain in bed together, their bodies pressed close to one another as they kissed passionately.
In his dream, Nicholas had kissed Cecilia’s lips, softly at first, and then harder, her mouth opening under his. His tongue had explored her mouth as his hands slid over her body, relishing every curve. She had moaned when he touched her breasts and shivered while fingering her nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger. Nicholas moaned now just thinking about it.
The sound of passing footsteps in the hallway roused Nicholas from the pleasant state in between sleep and waking. He looked at the small clock on the table next to his bed and realized that it was nearly midday. Reluctantly, Nicholas left his bed, dressed, and went downstairs to breakfast.
When he entered the dining room, Michael was already seated at the table, sorting through a pile of letters that had been delivered the prior evening. He looked up as Nicholas entered the room and said, “There’s one here for you.”
Nicholas took the letter, and saw that it was sealed with burgundy wax, pressed with an ornate “H” to indicate that it had come from Huxley Manor. Feeling confused about this, he turned the letter over and saw that it was addressed to him in a hand that he recognized immediately as his sister’s.
Nicholas sat down at the table and said, “Thank you, Michael. It seems to be from my sister, though I have no idea why Isobel should need to write to me when I have only been away for a few days.”
Michael looked intrigued at this. “I do hope that Lady Isobel is well.” he said.
Nicholas scanned the letter quickly. It was brief, and Nicholas was confused by the content. He read it aloud to Michael, as though his friend might have more insight into the matter.
Dear Nicholas,
I have just seen Miss Baxter at our home, where she was invited to tea by our mother. She seemed upset when I saw her with mother, so I sought to speak to her alone after tea, although we had only a few minutes to communicate.
She told me that her father owes an old debt of one-hundred-and-fifty pounds to a Sir James Wiltshire who is a tenant of our parents. Apparently, Mother discovered the debt and encouraged Sir James to collect it. Mr. Baxter is unable to pay the debt in full, and is in danger of financial ruin.
I am writing to tell you this news, because it seems that Mother has offered to pay the debt for him, but only if Cecilia will agree to break with you. If she does not agree, then Mother will insist that Sir James collect the debt, and Mr. Baxter will lose his home and his workshop. I am afraid that Miss Baxter felt that she had no choice but to agree to Mother’s proposal.
I told her that I would not allow Mother to stop her from marrying you, but I am not sure that she believed me. I will do what I can to convince Mother to change her position, but I am not sure how best to approach the situation. I hope that I have done the right thing in telling you right away!
Please give my best to His Grace, the Duke of Westfield. I hope to hear from you soon!
Sincerely,
Isobel
Nicholas looked up at his friend when he finished reading. Michael looked confused.
“Am I understanding this correctly?” Michael asked, “Your mother intends to thwart your marriage plans over a debt of one-hundred-and-fifty pounds?”
>
“Well, that is not the reason she is attempting to thwart my plans,” Nicholas said, his anger clear in his voice, “it is merely the means. She has never approved of Cecilia; she has seized on the only opportunity she could find to convince her to break with me!”
“What will you do, Nicholas?” Michael asked.
“I must go to Cecilia, right away!” Nicholas said, standing up, “I am sorry, Michael, I must leave earlier than planned. I must leave today.”
“Of course, I understand,” Michael said, standing up as well. “Nicholas, if I may, would it be all right with you if I were to come with you to Huxley?”
Nicholas paused at this, unsure of why Michael would want to come to the country with him, but seeing no reason to object. “I suppose that would be fine, if you really want to come.”
“It might be nice to get out of the city, and I should like to meet your bride-to-be,” Michael said. “I feel certain that you will find a way to circumvent the Duchess’ machinations, after all.”
“All right then, but I should like to be off within the hour!” Nicholas said.
Both gentlemen summoned their valets and directed them to pack for a trip to Huxley. Then they sat and finished their breakfast while the servants prepared for the journey. Michael attempted to make conversation as they waited to depart, but Nicholas was lost in his own thoughts.
If it was simply a matter of one-hundred-and-fifty pounds, he would simply pay the debt himself. His mother would not approve, but he no longer cared what the Duchess thought. I have always known that she can be difficult to deal with, but this is despicable behavior that I would never have expected, even from her!
Chapter 25
Cecilia felt a lingering sadness at the thought of Nicholas and what she had given up with him. However, she could hardly fail to take on some of her father’s happiness over the next few days. He walked with a new spring in his step and hummed a merry tune to himself as he worked. Cecilia could not remember a time when she had seen him looking so carefree.
When he was present in the shop, she smiled along with him and agreed with him whenever he mentioned how fortunate they were to be the recipients of the Duchess’ kindness. But as soon as he stepped out of the workshop, her sadness overtook her once again, and the smile faded from Cecilia’s face.
She continued to focus on her work, which prevented her from breaking into tears at inopportune moments, but could not prevent her from dwelling on thoughts of what might have been.
Finally after two days of this, when her father had gone outside to varnish a piece he had just finished building, Archie said to her, “Cecilia, if something is bothering you, I hope that you know that you can always talk to me.”
“Is it that obvious?” she asked, trying to sound like it was a joke.
“I do know you rather well,” Archie said, “but yes, it’s obvious that something is upsetting you. And I assume that it has something to do with your meeting with the Duchess. Am I wrong?”
“No, Archie,” Cecilia said, resigned. She had never been good at keeping secrets, and Archie knew her too well to believe anything short of the truth.
Cecilia explained the conversation she had with the Duchess over tea. Archie was appropriately horrified by the Duchess’ behavior and called her some names that made Cecilia’s eyes widen with shock—though in truth, she could not disagree with his assessment of the Duchess’ character.
“I simply cannot believe that she could be so manipulative!” Archie said. “No, I take that back. Of course, she can be that manipulative, I should have known as much from our first meeting!”
“Well,” Cecilia said, resignation in her voice, “I certainly knew that she was not someone to be trifled with from our first meeting, but I don’t think anyone could have predicted that she would go to such appalling lengths to get what she wants from others.”
“I suppose that is true,” Archie agreed, “one never thinks one is talking to a monster, until it bares it’s fangs, after all.”
Cecilia looked at Archie with curiosity in her gaze. This was such an odd, but also oddly accurate, way of describing the Duchess, and she wondered how he had come up with such a particular image. I suppose he has always been a creative sort of person, with a vivid imagination.
“Papa will likely be back in just a few minutes,” Cecilia said. “Perhaps we had best get back to work.”
“All right,” Archie agreed, “but Cecilia?”
“Yes?” she replied.
“If you are feeling upset at any point, or if you would like to talk—about anything, I hope that you know that you can always talk to me.”
“I do, Archie,” Cecilia said, feeling a rush of gratitude for his friendship. She had never had a brother, but she imagined that if she had, he would be something like Archie. “I am lucky to have a friend such as you.”
Archie smiled at her kindly, and the pair returned to their work. They had been working side by side, in silence for some time when the workshop door opened, and Cecilia saw Mrs. Williams standing in the doorway.
“Erm…” Mrs. Williams began, sounding as though she was not sure what she ought to say.
“What is it, Mrs. Williams?” Cecilia asked, feeling concerned about what she could possibly have to say.
“Miss Baxter, if you please, the Marquess of Clive and His Grace, The Duke of Westfield are here to see you.”
Cecilia stared in disbelief for a moment, but sure enough when she looked again, there was Nicholas pacing in the kitchen behind Mrs. Williams. And standing off to the side was another gentleman she had never seen before, who must have been the Duke of Westfield. What on earth is going on?
“Oh!” Cecilia said, feeling genuinely shocked by this turn of events, “um…please show them in, Mrs. Williams.”
* * *
Nicholas followed the housekeeper into the workshop. Cecilia was standing there looking utterly shocked to see him. She wore a gray rough-spun dress with a heavily-patched apron over it. Her hair was untidy, with sawdust sticking to it in places, and her face was smudged with dirt, or possibly varnish. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
Cecilia curtsied and looked down at the floor. “Welcome, My Lord,” she said, sounding polite but cool.
“Miss Baxter,” he replied, “I am sorry to arrive unannounced. I received a letter from my sister while visiting my friend in London and knew that I must speak to you immediately.”
Cecilia’s eyes moved from Nicholas to the Duke, who was walking around the shop examining the different equipment with interest.
“Please excuse my manners,” he said. “May I introduce my friend, His Grace, The Duke of Westfield?”
“It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance, Your Grace,” Cecilia said, curtseying once again to the Duke.
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Baxter,” the Duke replied, bowing politely, before resuming his perusal of the shop.
“And this is Miss Baxter’s colleague, Mr. Mowbray,” Nicholas said, indicating Archie with a nod of the head.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mowbray,” the Duke said, holding out a hand to shake Archie’s. Archie looked momentarily surprised, but then shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you, Your Grace,” Archie muttered quietly.
The Duke asked Archie a question about one of the tools he saw on Archie’s workbench, and the two began to talk animatedly about the desk Archie was building for The Duke of Huxley’s study.
While his friend spoke to Archie, Nicholas leaned close to Cecilia and said quietly, “Isobel sent me a letter immediately after you left Huxley Manor to inform me of the situation. Cecilia, I am terribly sorry for how my Mother behaved. I would say she ought to be ashamed of herself, but it is clear to me that shame is not a feeling of which she is capable.”
Cecilia smiled briefly at this, but there was sadness in her eyes that the smile could not touch.
“I will not allow a debt of one-hundred-and-fifty pounds to prevent all of our
future happiness. It is absurd! I shall pay the debt, and we may forget about the whole thing.”
“Oh Nicholas,” Cecilia said, sounding sad for reasons that he could not understand, “you are so kind and very generous, but I simply cannot accept such an offer.”
“Why ever not?” he asked, genuinely shocked by this reaction.
“I love you, Nicholas,” she whispered, with tears shining in her eyes, “but I cannot accept money from you. I work hard to earn my money. Your mother fears that I only wish to marry you for your money, and this plan of yours would only confirm her worst fears about me.”
“To hell with her worst fears about you!” Nicholas was still whispering, but his voice sounded fierce. “Why should you or I care what she thinks of you? I love you—that is all that matters!”
The Marquess In Her Bed (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 20
