by Anna Bradley
“You put a remarkable amount of faith in the Clifford School,” Gideon grumbled.
“I had a bit of a tangle with one of Lady Clifford’s girls myself—impertinent little chit named Georgiana Harley. Dreadful nuisance of a girl with a tongue that smarts like a whip, but not lacking in wit. She despises me,” Haslemere added, an oddly satisfied grin crossing his lips. “In any case, I was right about Cecilia. No one in Edenbridge is calling you the Murderous Marquess anymore, are they?”
It was true. The villagers who’d helped contain the fire had seen Leanora in her white gown and wig when her lifeless body was removed from the castle. The rumors of the notorious White Lady had come to an end after that, and with it the worst of the gossip about the Murderous Marquess.
There would always be people who believed he was guilty—nothing would change that—but there were more of them who believed him innocent now, and they were willing to shame those who continued to spread the rumors.
Cecilia had done that for him, had fought to prove his innocence. She’d kept prodding, kept digging until she got to the truth, so far buried beneath the rubble Gideon had long since despaired of it ever coming to light.
Everything had changed when Cecilia came to Darlington Castle.
It would have been the easiest thing in the world for her to simply declare him guilty and be done with it. Everyone else in England had, and when she arrived at Darlington Castle, she’d had every reason to believe he was a murderer.
But she hadn’t. She’d believed in him. How many times had he dismissed her from his service? Twice, three times? Yet she’d hung on, and somehow, between dropping the coal scuttle and singing those dreadful lullabies, she’d made everyone love her.
Isabella, Amy and Mrs. Briggs, Duncan and Fraser, and…
Him. She’d made him love her.
Haslemere gave him a reproving look. “In case you’ve forgotten, Cecilia did just as she was sent to Darlington Castle to do. She uncovered the truth.”
Gideon squirmed under the rebuke. He hadn’t forgotten. How could he? Cecilia had set him free from the vicious rumors that had plagued him since Cassandra’s death. The lies she’d told him were nothing against all she’d done for him.
He was in love with her—madly, deeply so. There was only one reason he’d let the woman he adored walk out of his life, and it had nothing to do with a few meaningless lies.
“Let’s have it out, shall we, Darlington?” Haslemere’s voice was quieter now, and, for all that he disliked coddling the tenderer emotions, gentle. “I told you, you forget how well I know you. You didn’t send Cecilia away because she lied to you. Why don’t you tell me the real reason?”
Haslemere already knew, of course. He knew Gideon well enough to have guessed it. He’d simply been waiting for Gideon to say it aloud. “Leanora murdered my wife and son, Haslemere. Poisoned them in our home, right under my nose.”
Haslemere nodded. “Yes.”
“I knew who Leanora was, what she was. I should have seen what was happening and put a stop to it, but somehow, I didn’t. I let my wife and son die.”
Haslemere was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Look at me, Darlington.”
Gideon looked, half afraid of what he’d see, but Haslemere’s face was full of compassion. “You didn’t know who Leanora was. You knew she was selfish and erratic, even devious, yes, but you didn’t know she was mad. You didn’t know she was a murderer. How could you?”
Gideon wanted it to be true, wanted it more than anything, but he wasn’t sure he could ever make himself believe it. “I failed Cassandra, Haslemere. I failed both her and my son. I didn’t take care of them. What if…what if I fail Cecilia, too?”
Haslemere let out a deep sigh. “You didn’t fail anyone, Darlington. What happened was a tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault. Do you think Cassandra would want you to spend the rest of your life alone, punishing yourself for her death?”
“No.” After Cecilia left Darlington Castle, Gideon had found what remained of Cassandra’s diary buried in the rubble. Most of it had burned in the fire, but he’d read enough of the few singed pages that remained to remind him Cassandra had loved him as much as he’d loved her. His happiness had been as important to her as her own.
Somehow, in all the chaos of her illness and death, he’d forgotten that.
“No. She’d want you to be happy, and for you, Cecilia is happiness. So, I’ll ask you again, Darlington. When are you going to put an end to this nonsense?”
Gideon closed his eyes, ready to search inside his heart for the answer, but it was right there already, waiting for him. It had been, all along. Now he’d given himself permission to seize this second chance at happiness he was desperate to get to Cecilia, and couldn’t bear to wait another moment. “It ends here, Haslemere. Here, and now.”
“You know what, Darlington? I’ll join you.” Haslemere rubbed his hands together, a sly smile curling his lips. “I’ve a notion to pay a call on Georgiana Harley. I wouldn’t want her to forget about me, now would I?”
* * * *
“If ye didn’t think Miss Cecilia was fit to take on Darlington, ye wouldn’t have sent her there in the first place.” Daniel Brixton folded his massive frame into the seat on the other side of Lady Clifford’s desk. “If ye thought her fit, then she’s fit.”
“Perhaps I miscalculated.”
Lady Clifford tapped a finger against her lips, considering it. She’d realized any number of scenarios could play out in this case, including the Marquess of Darlington chasing Cecilia from his castle and right back to London the day she arrived, but she hadn’t anticipated this. “What does Lord Darlington mean, sending Cecilia back to me with a broken heart?”
Daniel grimaced at that. He didn’t believe in broken hearts. “She’ll be all right. That lass is as strong as any of the others.”
“Yes, she is. Not in the same way, of course. She’s always been the tenderest of my girls.” It was the very reason Amanda had sent Cecilia to Darlington Castle in the first place. Even now she couldn’t regret it, as Cecilia had done just what Amanda hoped she would. Yet she couldn’t deny her plan appeared to have gone awry in one respect. “I didn’t foresee any romantic entanglements.”
Daniel, who also didn’t believe in romantic entanglements, let out an irritable grunt. “Aye. Never thought of Darlington as a scoundrel, but I’m not surprised. Marquesses are shifty. Only thing worse than a marquess is a duke.”
“To be fair, Daniel, we don’t know Lord Darlington is a scoundrel. If you recall, most of London thought him a murderer, and he’s never been that. Perhaps we should give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Don’t see why.” Daniel didn’t believe in giving anyone the benefit of the doubt, especially a man who dared trifle with one of his girls.
Lady Clifford pushed back her chair with a sigh. “Well, at the very least, I think I should have a word with Cecilia. Will you call her down to the drawing room, Daniel? Emma and Georgiana, too. They may as well hear what Cecilia has to say. Perhaps then they’ll stop fretting over her.”
“Aye, my lady.” Daniel did as she asked, then vanished once they were all settled together in the drawing room. Lady Clifford let him go. One of the girls was sure to start weeping, and he couldn’t bear it when they wept.
“Ah, here you are, girls. Cecilia, come sit with me, dearest.” Lady Clifford held out a hand to Cecilia, who took it gratefully, and settled beside her on the settee. “It’s been a week since you returned from Kent. I think it’s time we discuss what happened at Darlington Castle.”
“What happened?” Georgiana threw her hands up in the air. “We know what happened! Cecilia went to Kent, proved Lord Darlington innocent of murder, and he thanked her by breaking her heart, the villain.”
Cecilia turned red-rimmed eyes to Georgiana. “That’s not what—”
“Now everyone in London is prattling on about how ill-used poor Lord Darlington’s been.” Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Mind you, these are the same people who spread the rumors in the first place, and called him the Murderous Marquess behind his back.”
“They should all beg his pardon.” Cecilia’s face flushed with anger. “It’s a horrible thing to—”
“He may not be the Murderous Marquess, but he’s certainly a cold-hearted rake, and that’s not much better,” Emma declared, sprawling in the chair beside the settee.
Cecilia shook her head. “He’s not a rake, Emma. He’s—”
“Of course, he’s a rake, just like his friend, Lord Haslemere. Dear God, what a pair they are.” Georgiana shuddered. “I hope they both stay in Kent, or Surrey, or wherever it is, and we never lay eyes on either of them again.”
“Girls, if I could have a word?” Lady Clifford held up a hand, and everyone went silent. “Thank you. Now, I didn’t bring you downstairs to discuss Lord Darlington.”
Emma sat up. “You didn’t?”
“No. As far as Lord Darlington himself is concerned, the matter is closed. You’ll have your wish, Georgiana. There’s no reason for us to see him, or Lord Haslemere ever again.”
“Never again?” Georgiana deflated. “Are you certain that’s the best…er, what I mean is, I’m vastly relieved to hear it, my lady. I certainly haven’t got any use for either of them.”
Lady Clifford’s lips twitched. “Yes, well, our concern is Cecilia, not Lord Darlington or his friend. Cecilia, dearest, do you know why I sent you to Darlington Castle, rather than Georgiana or Emma?”
“Yes. Because Georgiana and Emma are both busy with other tasks. Otherwise I’m certain you would rather have sent either of them.”
“Indeed, you’re wrong. Even if I’d had Georgiana or Emma at my disposal, I still would have sent you.”
Cecilia blinked. “Me? But why?”
Lady Clifford smiled. “For the same reason I always choose to send any one of you over the others. Because you were the best suited to this particular task.”
“But I’m the worst one of all of us! I mean…well, you know what I mean, my lady. I’m too soft-hearted, too romantic, too apt to try and find reasons to excuse someone rather than think the worst of them.”
Lady Clifford sighed. “My dear child, you’re not ‘too’ anything. You’re just as you should be. You rely on your emotional intelligence to make decisions about what’s true and what’s not. You were the same as a child, you know. It never ceases to amaze me, how well you can read people. Your instincts are unparalleled.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Georgiana gave Cecilia’s hand a fond squeeze. “You’re the shrewdest of all of us that way. I’ve often remarked it.”
Emma was nodding. “You are. It’s quite unusual, I think, for a person to be as empathetic as you are, Cecilia. You have a gift for putting yourself in another’s place.”
Cecilia looked around at them, horrified. “But…but that’s horrible!”
“Horrible?” Lady Clifford raised an eyebrow. “My dear girl, why should that be horrible?”
“Because I’m supposed to be clever and logical like Georgiana, and…” Cecilia waved her hands about, searching for words. “Brave and shrewd like Sophia, and wily and cunning like Emma. I’m not supposed to be…me.”
Both Emma and Georgiana stared at her, flabbergasted. “But that’s nonsense!” Georgiana managed at last. “Why, you should be just who you are.”
“Of course, you should,” Emma exclaimed. “You’re perfect just as you are, Cecilia.”
“It’s rare for a person, especially one as young as you, to read others so accurately, Cecilia,” Lady Clifford said. “I don’t mean to say you’re illogical, or discard evidence and facts. I only mean you’re apt to give your instincts equal weight. You’re right to rely on them as you do.”
“But I still don’t understand why you sent me to Darlington Castle, my lady. I let my emotions overrule my better judgment when it came to Lord Darlington. If he’d been guilty—”
“But he isn’t guilty. If he had been, you would have found him so.”
Tears gathered in Cecilia’s eyes. “You don’t understand. All the evidence pointed to his guilt, yet I kept refusing to accept it.”
“Precisely.” Lady Clifford smiled at Cecilia’s expression. “You only prove my point, dearest. Remember, Lord Darlington is innocent. He has been all along. Your instincts told you that, and so you kept prodding, even when the evidence pointed to his guilt. That’s how you discovered the truth. I never believed Lord Darlington was guilty. That man’s no murderer. Indeed, I sent you there to prove him innocent, and that’s just what you did.”
Cecilia glanced from one beaming face to the next, and a watery smile curved her lips. “I did make a terrible nuisance of myself. Gideon—that is, Lord Darlington dismissed me three times.”
Lady Clifford laughed. “Did he, indeed?”
“He did. I managed to talk him out of it each time.”
“Well done. But I’m afraid he’s broken your heart, Cecilia, and I am sorry for that.” Lady Clifford’s smile faded. “I didn’t anticipate that would happen. Perhaps I should have.”
Cecilia lay her head on Lady Clifford’s shoulder. “I’ll be all right.”
But tears started to her eyes again, and Emma, seeing them, leapt up from her chair and squeezed onto the settee on Cecilia’s other side. “Don’t cry, Cecilia.”
Georgiana rose as well, but before she could squeeze in next to them, there was a loud knock on the entryway door. “What spectacularly bad timing.” She glanced at the mantelpiece clock with a frown. “Who’s calling at this hour? I’ll go, and send them away.”
* * * *
Gideon tensed as the echo of footsteps marching down the corridor met his ears. He’d spent the carriage ride from Surrey to London imagining Cecilia would turn him away at the door. Now the moment had come, he was caught in a purgatory of hope and dread.
But it wasn’t Cecilia who flung open the door. It was a tall, cross-looking young lady, her mouth already open as if she were ready to launch into a lecture, but she snapped it shut again when she saw Gideon and Haslemere standing there.
Whoever she’d been expecting to find on her doorstep, it wasn’t them.
“Miss Harley. What a tremendous pleasure it is to see you again.” Haslemere swept his hat off his head and offered her a bow too extravagant to be anything other than mocking. “I hardly recognized you with your mouth closed. Last time I saw you, you were shouting at me.”
Miss Harley recovered quickly from her shock. “Indeed. Well, Lord Haslemere, I’d be pleased to shout at you again, if you like. I’m certain you’ve done something to deserve it.”
“Likely as not.” Haslemere gave her a devilish grin. “Not that it matters much. You were perfectly willing to shout at me the last time we met, and I hadn’t done anything wicked.”
Miss Harley snorted. “Don’t be so modest, my lord. You might not have done the thing I thought you had, but I’m certain you’d committed a number of other sins unworthy of a gentleman that day. Choose one of those.”
Haslemere chuckled. “You bring out my ungentlemanly side.” He braced an arm against the door and leaned in, which put him much closer to Miss Harley than was proper. “I wonder why that is?”
She drew in a breath, as if preparing to deal Haslemere the set-down he deserved, but before she could say a word, Gideon cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Miss Harley, but may we come inside? I’d like very much to have a word with Cec…Miss Gilchrist.”
She turned to him in surprise, as if she hadn’t even noticed he was there. “Lord Darlington.” Her gaze was cool as she considered him, but he must have looked as miserable as he felt, because she sighed. “Oh, very well, if you must. I’ll ask Cecilia if she’ll see you.” She
stepped away from the door so they could enter, but cast a dark look at Haslemere. “Wait here.”
“Good Lord, Haslemere,” Gideon muttered, when she was out of sight. “What did you do to make her so cross with you?”
Haslemere’s eyes were glinting with humor. “Nothing much, I assure you. She’s just remarkably bad-tempered. I like her immensely.”
Gideon didn’t get a chance to answer, because Miss Harley was coming back down the hallway toward them, and behind her…
His heart leapt, hope and love and anxiety all tangling together in his chest. “Cecilia.” He removed his hat, clutching it in his hands as he took a step toward her. “I…I beg your pardon for calling at such an hour. I miss…that is, Isabella misses you.”
Haslemere snorted, and Miss Harley turned a quelling eye on him. “Despite my strenuous objections, Lord Haslemere, Lady Clifford says I must bring you to the drawing room for refreshments. Cecilia, go along with Lord Darlington to Lady Clifford’s parlor.”
She gave Cecilia an encouraging smile, then turned to Haslemere with a grimace. “Come on then, my lord, and do try your best not to behave like an utter savage, won’t you?”
Cecilia waited until Georgiana and Haslemere were gone, then she glanced up at Gideon from under dark eyelashes. “This way, Lord Darlington.”
He followed her down to a cozy parlor tucked at the back of the house overlooking a small, neat garden. He closed the door behind him, then stood there awkwardly, staring at her. “Is it Lord Darlington now, Cecilia? Not Gideon any longer?”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “I didn’t mean to cause offense, Lord Darlington. I wasn’t sure—”
“I know you’re not sure, and I’m so sorry for that, sweetheart.” Gideon drew closer, close enough so he could see the faint light from the hallway shining in her dark eyes.
God, he loved those eyes, loved every part of her.
He took her hand in his. “There are so many things I want to say to you, but first, I want to thank you for what you did for me. I never thanked you, that last day at Darlington Castle, and it was unforgivable of me. It’s haunted me ever since.”
