After a short stroll they found the pavilion calm and inviting, but empty. Cici was beginning to feel excessively warm despite the coolness of the evening. She opened her fan and began to fan herself furiously. “Sister, I am not feeling at all well. I think I need to sit down.” She staggered to a nearby bench but her knees gave way before she reached it. The Viscount became alarmed when he turned to see the little redhead collapse on the grass. Rushing to her aid he quickly swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bench allowing her to rest weakly on its surface.
An unusually attentive Elizabeth cooed in concern as Cici continued to suffer from an unknown but rapidly intensifying illness. She felt her lips begin to tingle and she was having a bit of trouble catching her breath. Elizabeth took note of this immediately and expressed her concern. “She can’t breathe, My Lord. I’ll go get mama. She always keeps salts in her reticule.” Before Lord Arrandale could utter another word she was off through the garden. Andrew watched in concern as a groggy and flustered Cecelia struggled to sit up from the concrete bench. He frowned down at her as he laid a hand against her heated brow. This didn’t look like a typical female swoon from a too tight corset.
Cici muttered disjointedly. She felt hot and her skin was literally crawling with sensation. She felt like bugs were creeping all over her especially in her hair and began to panic. “Get them off. I can’t bear it.” Her hands rose to her elaborately styled hair and she began pulling at it, destroying her artful coiffure in her distress. Soon she had many of the pins out and her long, red mane fell in a disheveled mess about her shoulders.
“What is going on here?” Lord Benton demanded in an affronted voice. He stood in the garden pathway flanked by his wife, Marquess Berkeley and his Marchioness. Lady Benton rushed to her daughter’s side.
“She felt faint so I assisted while Lady Elizabeth went for help.” Andrew said this through gritted teeth. Interestingly, Elizabeth Richards was nowhere to be found. He was beginning to suspect something was afoot here.
“What were you doing alone out here with my daughters? It is most unseemly.”
“Lady Elizabeth assured me your wife was meeting us.”
“No such arrangements were made by me, Charles.” She looked to her husband. Cici continued to mumble incoherently as she pulled at her hair and gown. “We must get her somewhere private and summon a physician, husband. One of you gentlemen will need to carry her.”
The Marquess who was past sixty, deferred to her father but Lord Benton shook his head regretfully, “Arrandale, you will have to do it. A back injury prevents me...”
“Certainly,” he interrupted and once again scooped up a pale and shaking Cecilia Richards in his arms. Turning he addressed his host, “If you will lead the way, My Lord?”
The only way back to the house was through the garden and unfortunately, to get to the salon or other private room within the manor meant a trip through the crowded ballroom. As they passed through the crush of guests they were surrounded by whispers, murmurs of concern, and a few gasps of outrage. The sight of Lady Cecilia Richards, fidgeting restlessly as the Viscount carried her was startling. Seeing her in a mussed gown with her long hair loose and falling in a riot of messy curls over the Viscount’s arm was titillating.
The sound of gossip rose steadily from the attendees who were already busy speculating about this latest on dit. The Viscount, realizing the scene they created, fought to maintain a hold on his wriggling charge who continued to insist there were bugs crawling on her skin as she slapped at the invisible creatures. He quickly followed the Marquess, turning her face into his shoulder in an attempt to minimize any future embarrassment for the young woman and her family who followed in close pursuit. As they crossed the room, the noise from the fascinated guests rippled outward like waves in a pool as the gossip spread. Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew spotted Elizabeth Richards watching with an oddly self-satisfied smile on her face. Good Lord, was she the one who had called their hosts and her parents to the garden? If so, why hadn’t she remained out of concern for her ill sister? An ominous chill ran down his spine as he considered the exceptionally odd situation.
Chapter Three
Cici cautiously entered her father’s study and obediently sat in the chair he indicated. She noted it was out of position and appeared to be strategically placed between her mother’s chair and the side of his desk. A feeling of dread swept over her as she looked at the group assembled. Both her parents were present wearing equally somber expressions. Her mother had been crying and appeared agitated, still sniffling occasionally and alternating between dabbing at her eyes with her lace handkerchief and vigorously working her fan.
Looking at the occupant of the wing-backed chair that sat in front of her father’s massive desk, Cici was surprised to see the Duke of Sommerville. A feeling of dread swept over her as she looked at her friend Maggie’s older brother. She now realized he was also the brother to the Viscount who had helped her last night. What in the world was going on?
She studied His Grace as discreetly as possible. He appeared to be in his early thirties and didn’t resemble Lord Arrandale or Maggie at all. He had dark hair which was prematurely graying at the temples. Although seated, she could tell he was of smaller stature than the Viscount, but carried himself with the air of authority his station demanded. His gaze rose to her and she instantly saw the resemblance. He had the same deep blue eyes as his brother and those eyes were currently searing into her. She felt his gaze like a physical force sweeping over; evaluating and assessing before dismissing her as if unimpressed with what he saw. Cici couldn’t help but flush with mortification. It was rare to be in a Duke’s presence and for him to find her lacking, well it was simply beyond the pale.
He then spoke over his shoulder to another man whose presence she had overlooked. “Andrew, quit looming over us and come sit. I’d like to get these arrangements completed as I have several other appointments this afternoon.”
It was then she saw Andrew, Viscount Arrandale. He had been standing by the fireplace and as he moved stiffly across the room, she could tell this was a very angry gentleman. He didn’t look at anyone but the Duke although his words were obviously directed toward the room’s other occupants. “Forgive me if I stand, Your Grace. This way I may bend over more easily as I prepare to be rogered up the-“
“Andrew!” The Duke barked the word, effectively stifling his brother and stopping him before the vulgar comment passed his lips. Her mother gasped and fanned herself furiously as her father leapt to his feet in outrage. His Grace - unfazed by his brother’s behavior - remained calm. “Please forgive my brother, ladies. He tends to get a little uncivilized when he feels trapped. And considering the situation, I can hardly blame him.”
Offended, Cici rose to her feet. She felt like she was being accused of something and wasn’t really sure why. “What is going on here? Are you accusing me of some kind of trickery, Your Grace?”
“You have to admit, you look remarkably recovered from last night’s illness, my dear.” The Dukes voice oozed with derision.
Cici’s mother spoke up then. “My daughter suffers from a sensitivity, Your Grace. I have seen it twice before and the signs are always the same as she experienced last night. My Lord, please tell them there was no underhandedness afoot.” She implored her husband to support her claim. “Cecilia is innocent!”
“Your Grace, Viscount Arrandale, I can assure you that my wife speaks the truth. As a child, Cecilia had serious reactions like this to a breathing medicinal. She hasn’t had an attack of this sort in years. We have questioned Cecilia about this and she does not know how she would have come in contact with it last evening. Our family physician examined her and agreed it was the same malady as in the past. I can call him in to substantiate the veracity of our daughter’s claim if I must.”
Andrew spoke then, “That won’t be necessary. Let’s just complete our business, shall we?” He approached and handed the Earl a stack of papers. “I
’ve had the contract drawn up according to your specifications, with the Duke’s input of course. All that remains is for all parties involved to sign the contract with His Grace bearing witness.”
“What is going on? Why are we signing a contract?” Cecilia looked to her father, but he didn’t answer her question as he busily examined the Viscount’s paper. “Mama?”
“Oh Cecilia dear, you must know that you were disgraced last night. The gossip has run rampant through the Ton already.”
Her father looked up at her then; his eyes filled with concern for his favorite daughter. “The Viscount has agreed to do the honorable thing. The bishop will be here to wed you by special license this afternoon.”
“Wed? I am to marry him?” She looked toward Lord Arrandale who returned her regard with a mocking expression. Clearly, he thought her dim-witted. “But I thought you were to court Elizabeth?”
“Ah yes, the lovely Elizabeth. What did your charming sister have to say about last night’s debacle?” He quirked a dark blonde brow and frowned as he put two and two together. He looked toward the Earl. “I suspect that you will not be able to vouch for the veracity of your eldest daughter’s accounting of last night. I heard that she was not happy to be lowering herself to my station.”
Lord Benton also frowned; he knew his daughter and her skill at maneuvers to get her own way. She had been quite angry about him accepting the Viscount’s suit on her behalf. “Reynolds!” He barked suddenly for his butler. “Get Lady Elizabeth in here, immediately.”
Lady Benton protested, “My Lord, surely Elizabeth is innocent as well.”
“Time will tell, won’t it?”
A smug Elizabeth waltzed into the room; she was dressed for an outing in a carriage gown and held her bonnet in her hands. “You called, Father? I am just heading out for a drive in the park.” As if she just suddenly became aware of their lofty guests when the gentlemen rose, she dropped into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace, I beg your pardon for my rudeness.” As an afterthought she nodded to Andrew. “And My Lord Arrandale as well.”
“Your ride in the park will have to wait. Take a seat.” Her father waited until Elizabeth had flounced across the room and artfully arranged herself in the vacant chair next to the Duke. “What do you know about your sister’s attack last night?”
“I can’t imagine what I could know about it, Father,” she replied in her practiced sugar-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth voice. She flicked open her fan and began to wave it gently, cooling her slightly flushed face. If Cici read the signs correctly; her sister was guilty of something.
Arrandale addressed her next. “Where did you go to after your sister fell ill, Lady? She collapsed in the pavilion and the next instant you were gone.”
“If your lordship will recall, I went to find Mama but couldn’t.”
“Then what did you do when you couldn’t find her, daughter? You just abandoned your own sister, alone and ill with a stranger in a private garden?” Her father demanded a response in an outraged and angry tone. He knew his eldest daughter; all of her actions were self-serving.
“Elizabeth, you were the one who said you had arranged for mama to chaperone. Obviously, that was a lie.” Cici was now certain her sister had arranged the incident and was incensed. “What have you done?”
Her sister became flustered as she realized all eyes in the room were trained intensely on her. “Me? What could I have done?”
Then it dawned on Cici. She had replayed the entire fiasco of an evening in her mind numerous times. Suddenly the pieces fell into place. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. “You gave me your lemonade. You hate lemonade. Did you put something in the drink?”
Haughtily she responded, “Don’t be silly, Cici. Would I do such a thing?”
“In an instant dear sister, and damn the consequences if it fits into your plans. You would sacrifice your very own mother if it got you your way.” Cici looked at her father. “There is no other explanation, papa.”
“Cici, you will guard your tongue and Elizabeth Louise, you will tell the truth this instant or I will fetch the cane for the both of you.”
“Father!”
“Charles!”
Both her sister and her mother gasped in outrage over her father’s threat in front of their guests. Andrew looked mildly amused for the first time. “Don’t let us stop you, My Lord. If it were left up to me this spoiled brat would have already been bent over your desk getting her just desserts. It is obvious you have at least one very spoiled young lady on your hands.”
Benton ignored the younger man’s assuredly accurate statement. His eldest daughter was in truth a spoiled brat, and he was determined that such behavior was about to be put to an end. “Elizabeth? Do you own up to your role in this fiasco or do I get the cane?”
“No father, you can’t punish me in front of strangers, whatever will His Grace think?” She wrung her hands, for once showing concern about her very near future. “Very well then, I admit it. I put Cook’s breathing medicinal in the lemonade knowing how she would react. It has opium in it and I remembered her sensitivity to it as a child.”” She rose from her chair and stomped her foot angrily. “But it is entirely your fault, Father! You were forcing me to court him! It was inconceivable!”
Her father’s face flushed red with anger. “I am sorry Lord Arrandale. It astounds me that my own daughter could act in such a shameful manner. I promise she will be punished severely for her actions. Regretfully, the damage to Cici’s reputation cannot be repaired. I trust you are still willing to do the honorable thing despite Elizabeth’s actions.”
Andrew nodded, and then the brothers rose and moved to sign the documents. As they turned to leave, Andrew added before excusing himself. “I would never let an innocent young woman’s reputation be sullied by an act of such wickedness. I will be honored to wed your daughter and remove her henceforth from such a contaminating presence. We will return for the ceremony at three, My Lord.” When that final insulting remark had settled upon the room, he turned and left with the Duke following closely at his heels.
Chapter Four
Five days later, the carriage pulled up to the Arrandale estate just as the sun was setting. The orange and red of the sky was a stunning backdrop to the stately manor. During the long drive from London, with only her maid for company inside the coach, Cici had plenty of time to think. Tonight would be their true wedding night. She had spent the nights since their official marriage at his townhouse in London. He had not sought her out though, explaining that he had several business matters to attend to before leaving town and that taking a few days to get to know each other would make the transition easier on Cici. While this sounded like a reasonable plan, she had barely seen her husband in all that time. True, he had greeted her every morning for breakfast and joined her twice for dinner, but other than that he had been absent. Cici’s mind had been full of imaginings of Andrew and his paramour Lady Winslow and so had been miserable the entire time.
Mama had come by twice for tea, thankfully leaving her manipulating sister at home. She mentioned that Elizabeth’s chastisement from Papa had left her sister contrite and more than a little sore. Cici didn’t believe it but felt slightly vindicated to hear that Papa had delivered a sound thrashing.
Maggie had visited every day. She had been cheerful and excited about the best friends ending up as sisters. She had even shared all the latest gossip, including the ridiculous rumors about her and Andrew, but nothing had spurred her from her doldrums.
The footman dropping the steps startled her out of her reverie and she accepted his offered hand of assistance to alight the vehicle. The new Viscountess of Arrandale emerged from the carriage and looked upon her new home for the first time. It was a very large, old building and the first spark of excitement swept through her since her wedding day. She looked forward to exploring every inch of the old relic that would be her home. Hearing a rider approached, she turned to watch her husband ride up on a beautiful bay st
allion. Both horse and rider were magnificent male specimens. Her husband, hair mussed and cheeks full of color, was what drew her eye. Reigning in, he dismounted and tossed the reigns to a waiting stable hand nearby. He soon approached and offered his arm, ready to escort his bride into her new country home.
“The house and grounds are extraordinary, My Lord. In fact, it resembles a medieval castle. Are those turrets and a battlement I see?”
“Indeed, and the views from atop are spectacular. We will take a full tour of your new home tomorrow.”
“How long has it been in your family? It looks like something from the conquerors’ era.”
“You have an excellent eye. My grandfather, the first Duke of Sommerville was gifted the estate in 1067 for his loyalty to the crown by William the Conqueror himself. Before that it was an abbey, but the order left long before the siege. But we have plenty of time for history lessons after we get you settled in.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
As they climbed the stairs to the front entrance the door opened and the butler stood waiting in readiness to serve their needs.
“Higgins, may I present the new mistress of Arrandale Manor.”
He bowed. “Welcome, My Lady Arrandale, the household staff will gather at your leisure for introductions.”
“Have the staff gather in an hour, Higgins. I’ll see my wife to her rooms so she can rest for a bit.” He placed a hand low on Cici’s back and guided her to the stairs. “Higgins or our housekeeper Mrs. Weatherford can give you the full history of the manor later.” She took in the majesty of her surroundings as they climbed the wide curving staircase to the second floor. As they walked to the end of the main corridor he pointed out his rooms on the immediate left and a short distance farther opened the door to what would be her rooms.
She looked in to see a large sitting room done in pale yellows and hunter green. “It's lovely, My Lord.”
Surrender Your Grace Page 2
