The Most to Lose
Page 4
He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted enough to face her. He was so near to her she could feel the heat of his leg through the skirts of her gown.
“Do you wish me success?” he asked, but Celie wasn’t sure why he needed her approval of the risk he’d taken tonight.
“Of course I do. You’re the Earl of Haywood now and deserve to be here.”
“Thank you, again.”
For several long seconds, he did not shift his gaze, but kept it locked with hers. The herd of butterflies low in her stomach rustled their wings and took fight.
The effect he had on her was transfixing. She found herself drowning in the ebony depth of his captivating gaze and knew she couldn’t allow him too close a look into her eyes. She was afraid he’d see far more than she wanted him to.
Celie took a step away from the railing. “I need to return,” she said. Being alone with the Earl of Haywood was a dream come true, and she needed to leave before something happened to ruin this perfect moment. “I’m glad things turned out like they did, Lord Haywood. You will make a fine earl.”
Celie walked toward the open doors that led into the ballroom. His voice stopped her before she could escape.
“Did you mean what you just said, Lady Cecelia? That you are glad I attended tonight and approve of my plan to enter society?”
“Of course I meant it.”
He pushed himself away from the balustrade and stepped toward her. “Would you consider helping me?”
She couldn’t help but frown. “Helping you?”
“Yes.”
Lord Haywood stepped close enough to her that they were just beyond the open doorway, far enough so no one could overhear their words, yet exposed enough so they were in full view of the guests in the ballroom.
Celie was aware that they were being observed.
“Would you do me the honor of accepting my invitation to go for a drive tomorrow afternoon? Say, about five?”
Celie couldn’t hide her surprise. “Are you sure?”
“More than sure. Unless, of course, you are concerned about your brother’s reaction.”
Celie debated what answer to give him. She knew Lord Haywood wasn’t really asking her because he wanted to spend time alone with her. She knew that, in all likelihood, he’d asked her to accompany him to downplay the feud between the Earl of Haywood and the Duke of Hadleigh, to convince society that the feud was, if not over, at least not as explosive as it had been three years ago. Being seen in her company would do much to stop any rumors of an ongoing battle from faming.
Her brother had plans for tomorrow afternoon and wouldn’t be home to object to her going. If she was lucky, he might not ever find out that she’d spent the afternoon with the Earl of Haywood, although with rumors traveling like they did in society she didn’t hold out too much hope for that. At least, though, he wouldn’t find out until it was too late for him to do anything about it.
And she would have one more opportunity to tuck away another special memory of the man who’d always occupied a special place in her heart.
“Thank you, Lord Haywood. I’d be delighted to accompany you tomorrow.”
His face lit in a relaxed smile, as if he were truly pleased that she’d agreed to go with him.
“You’ve made me the happiest of men,” he said with a slight bow. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
Celie entered the ballroom amid the curious stares of the onlookers who’d seen her talking to Lord Haywood. A sudden rush of pleasure warmed her. Let them think what they wanted. The illusion that a handsome nobleman was courting her was a fantasy she enjoyed.
She suddenly felt years younger than her three and twenty years. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she was almost giddy with a strange sense of excitement.
Celie had always prided herself on keeping her feet planted squarely on the ground—even when her head floated in the clouds. She wouldn’t let her emotions run wild. She wouldn’t allow herself to imagine anything more than what was obviously the purpose behind Lord Haywood’s attention toward her, which was to curb any talk of a renewed battle between her brother and the Earl of Haywood. That was the reason he’d turned to her first. That and nothing more.
Celie searched the crowd for Amanda. Instead, she came face-to-face with her brother.
“What did he want?” Hadleigh’s angry glare followed Haywood as he made his way back through the ballroom.
“To say hello.”
“Stay away from him, Cecelia. I’m warning you.”
Celie turned her head and looked into her brother’s hostile countenance.
She graced him with a smile she far from felt. “I refuse to argue with you here, Your Grace. I’m ready to go home. Are you?”
He nodded sharply, then offered her his arm.
Celie placed her fingers on his rigid muscles and walked with him toward the door. He’d seen her alone with Haywood, and he was furious.
Celie couldn’t keep a smile from her face. The euphoric feeling engulfing her wouldn’t allow a hint of regret to surface.
Whether her brother approved of her being with the Earl of Haywood or did not held no consequence tonight. Not when she felt so young and free and…pretty.
Celie accompanied her brother out of the ballroom. They bid Lord and Lady Plimpton farewell, then waited while their driver brought their carriage round.
The drive home was silent. Hadleigh sat in the corner of the carriage with his hands crossed over his chest in an unyielding grip and sported a scowl on his face. Celie had no intention of telling him that she’d accepted an invitation to go for a drive with Lord Haywood. She knew better.
He confirmed her decision when they alighted in front of their town house.
“I hope you don’t intend to make a habit of associating with Haywood,” he said, in a tone similar to that of an order.
“Unfortunately,” she said, giddy with a bravado that still lingered from earlier, “I’m past the age where you can tell me with whom I can or cannot associate. And if you knew me even a small bit, Sterling, you’d know that the surest way for me to do what you don’t want me to do is to tell me that I can’t do something.”
Celie turned on her heel and stepped away from her brother before he had a chance to respond.
The smile she wore refused to fade as she made her way up the stairs and to her room.
Chapter 3
Jonah arrived at Hadleigh’s town house shortly before five and carefully stepped down to the cobblestone street. He handed the carriage reins to a waiting footman, then took a few seconds of feigned interest in the impressive stone structure to allow the pain in his side to ease.
He was paying for the hours he’d been on his feet last night. But the end result had been far better than he’d feared it might. He’d received several invitations today and seemed to be well on his way to taking his rightful place in society.
He leaned the slightest bit to the right to stretch the tight skin around the healing saber wound in his left side, then made his way up the short walk that led to the entrance. Hadleigh’s butler, Fitzhugh, opened the door before he could reach for the knocker.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Haywood,” Fitzhugh said in greeting.
Jonah looked into the familiar face. He’d once been a frequent guest of Hadleigh’s, but that had been a lifetime ago, before Melisande’s death. Before he’d left for the war in the Crimea.
Before his life had been permanently altered.
“My sympathies on your father’s and brother’s deaths,” Fitzhugh said, taking Jonah’s hat and gloves.
“Thank you, Fitzhugh. I only regret that I wasn’t here for them in the end.”
“All of us here at home appreciate the contribution you made for your country.”
“Thank you, Fitzhugh.”
The butler nodded, then stepped to the side. “Lady Cecelia will be right down. If you’ll follow me.”
A marble fireplace took up a large part of the far wall, and he slowly made his way across the room. A large portrait hung above the mantel, and Jonah locked his hands behind his back and stared at the painting of a young Sterling, a younger Lady Cecelia, and their parents, the former Duke and Duchess of Hadleigh.
It was obvious that Lady Cecelia had inherited her mother’s wheat-colored hair and vibrant blue eyes. The duchess’s coloring was identical to Cecelia’s. Even her features resembled her mother’s.
They were both blessed with the same high cheekbones and small upturned nose, but the most remarkable similarity was the sharp, intelligent gleam in the duchess’s eyes. The artist had captured it to perfection.
Lady Cecelia had that same intelligent gleam.
Jonah doubted that Hadleigh and his father had ever gotten away with even the tiniest of lies. The all-knowing look in the duchess’s eyes said she probably realized what her husband was up to before he attempted it.
“They were a remarkable couple,” Lady Cecelia said from behind him.
Jonah slowly turned to watch her enter the room.
She wore a deep-lavender gown and a matching bonnet. The color accented the shimmering gold in her hair to perfection. Her gloves were a light gray and so was her parasol.
She was beyond lovely. She was beautiful. Meeting Lady Cecelia had been one of the most pleasant surprises of his life.
He’d expected an older version of the gangly, pesky girl she’d been the last time he’d seen her. Instead, he found her to be a sharp-witted, intelligent young lady who possessed a certain confidence he admired, as well as a strength of character he found refreshing.
He looked at her and smiled. He should have realized any sister of Hadleigh’s would never be demure or lacking in spirit. Hadleigh would eat such a weak female alive.
Perhaps that was why she was still unmarried. Perhaps her strengths frightened off suitors. Well, she didn’t frighten him. Although he wouldn’t call himself a suitor. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he was. He wasn’t brave enough to consider what he wanted his relationship to Lady Cecelia to be.
He wasn’t sure he’d like himself if he did.
Jonah tore his gaze away from her and glanced back to the portrait on the wall. “You look a great deal like your mother.”
Celie answered with a mocking laugh. “I only wish. My mother was a striking woman.”
“You don’t think you are?”
The slight roll of her eyes indicated she was convinced her looks weren’t an advantage.
“Unfortunately, other than the color of my hair and eyes, I inherited far too many of my father’s traits.”
“I remember your mother and father well,” Jonah said.
“I had just celebrated my twelfth birthday when they died. I remember Hadleigh waking me from my sleep to tell me there’d been a carriage accident and Mother and Father wouldn’t be returning home.
“Hadleigh tried so hard to be brave, but I knew he hurt as much as I did. I couldn’t seem to stop crying, and he told me not to worry, that he’d always take care of me. I told him I knew he would, because he had to. He was the duke now.”
Her voice seemed thicker, and Jonah looked down as she stared at the portrait. He knew without asking that she was remembering another time.
“What did he answer?”
She looked up at him with a smile on her face and the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “He said, ‘No, not because I’m a duke. Because I’m your brother.’”
“Becoming the Duke of Hadleigh was a huge responsibility for someone so young.”
“Yes. Hadleigh was only eighteen when he inherited the title. His personality changed overnight.”
Jonah hesitated. “I remember.”
“Before then, he had such a zest for life.” She laughed. “Do you remember a country party Hadleigh planned for his eighteenth birthday?”
Jonah smiled, knowing the hunting week Celie was talking about.
“Hadleigh informed Mother that he’d invited some friends for a week of hunting. She asked to see the guest list, thinking that by ‘some friends’ Hadleigh meant a half dozen or so. When he handed her the list, she nearly fainted. I remember her asking him if there was anyone in London who hadn’t been included. Hadleigh thought for a moment, then answered he didn’t think so, but he’d check to make sure.”
She laughed. The rich sound of her laughter affected him in ways he couldn’t explain.
“The two of you were inseparable,” she continued. “I wish you still were.”
“Perhaps we will be again someday,” Jonah answered, but knew that was unlikely. “Are you ready to leave? It’s too lovely out to waste being indoors.”
She placed her small hand on his jacket sleeve, and they walked to his open carriage. He helped her up, then gave the reins a gentle flick.
“Has Hadleigh shown interest in anyone since Melisande’s death?” he asked after they’d made their way through the wide gate leading to Hyde Park.
Celie shook her head. “He still idolizes her memory as if she were a paragon of virtue.”
Jonah was shocked by Celie’s comment. “You don’t share his opinion?”
“I’m sorry,” Celie said. Her expression was filled with genuine embarrassment. “I didn’t mean for my comment to give that impression. It does no one good to speak ill of the dead.”
“But you didn’t consider her perfect?”
Lady Cecelia paused to nod a greeting to two young ladies approaching them. “No one is perfect. It’s simply that death seems to erase the imperfections and leave immortalization in its wake.”
Jonah looked at Celie with raised eyebrows. “Has anyone told you how wise you are, Lady Cecelia?”
She gave him a lax shrug and twirled her parasol. “Oh, yes. Hadleigh tells me that constantly. Except he doesn’t call it wisdom. He uses the terms outspoken and ill-mannered.”
Jonah smiled. “He doesn’t appreciate your directness?”
“Heavens, no. He’s quite stuffy, you know. He was much more understanding before he became a duke. As you know, he was even known to have a sense of humor.”
Jonah laughed. “That’s because he didn’t have such responsibilities then.”
“You’re still his champion, aren’t you?”
“Still?”
She lowered her parasol and lifted her face to the sun. “You always saw the best in Hadleigh and ignored his faults. You even allowed him to blame you for Melisande’s death.”
His breath caught. “You don’t consider that in some way I was responsible?”
“Of course not. No one was responsible except Melisande herself.”
Jonah leaned back against the seat and allowed himself the first relaxed breath he’d taken in longer than he could remember. She was good for him, like a soothing balm that took away the stiff shards of guilt and regret that plagued him.
“What a remarkable woman you’ve grown into.”
He lowered his gaze and enjoyed watching her cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink. He had a feeling she wasn’t overly used to receiving compliments and wondered why.
She turned back to study the path in front of them. A frown deepened on her forehead. “Lady Cushman and her daughter Charlene are coming this way. I’m sorry, but by this evening, all of society will know you asked me for a drive.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, except I’m afraid they will read more into your invitation than you intended.”
“I won’t let that bother me if you promise not to, either.”
He knew she intended to say something but didn’t have an opportunity. He brought the carriage to a halt as the approaching carriage came even with theirs and stopped. Lady Cushman was the first to speak.
“Cecelia, my de
ar. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Lady Cushman. Charlene. Have you come out to enjoy this beautiful day?”
“Yes,” Charlene answered. “I told Mother it was simply too lovely to stay indoors.”
“I agree,” Celie answered. “Have you been introduced to the Earl of Haywood, Lady Cushman? Charlene?”
“Not since he’s assumed the title,” Lady Cushman acknowledged. “I was acquainted with him before he went to serve so gallantly in Her Majesty’s service.”
Celie did the honors. When she introduced Miss Charlene, the young lady fluttered her lashes in a demure yet blatant form of flirtation.
Celie stiffened in the seat beside him.
Jonah smiled, unable to keep the humor from his face. “Lady Cushman,” he greeted. “Miss Charlene. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” both ladies answered.
“I heard that you returned to us injured,” Lady Cushman said. “Have you fully recovered?”
“Yes. I have received excellent care since my return.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” Miss Charlene followed her enthusiastic response with a shy look of embarrassment. “I would hate to think of you enduring even the slightest pain.”
“Then you have nothing to worry over. I am completely healed.”
The young lady lowered her gaze in the practiced art of flirtation and sighed softly.
On his left, Cecelia’s grip tightened on her parasol until he feared the handle might break.
He nearly laughed out loud. She was obviously unimpressed by Miss Charlene’s concern over him.
They conversed with Lady Cushman and her daughter a few more minutes, then took their leave, each heading in opposite directions.
“Miss Charlene seems a charming young lady. Is she spoken for?”
“Obviously not, or she wouldn’t have flirted so shamelessly with her mother seated only inches from her.”
Jonah tilted back his head and laughed harder than he’d laughed in years. His sudden movement caused a sharp pain to slice through his side. He stiffened and pressed his arm tight against his ribs and waited until the pain subsided.