Lady And The Cad

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  As her affection for Cecil grew, Eunice felt a twinge of guilt now and again about her cousin. Was she right to harbor feelings for him? Not that her feelings mattered; as soon as he had broken his bad habits, she would be sending him back to London a changed man—and back into Olivia’s arms. Olivia, the fiancée he rarely mentioned but for whom Eunice prayed each night.

  Weeks ago, soon after she had arrived at the manor house, Eunice had written a newsy missive to her cousin to express appreciation for her hospitality during her brief stay in London. Olivia never replied. This omission didn’t come as a surprise. Olivia had never taken the slightest notice of Eunice since their girlhood. Why should a one-night stay in London alter that?

  Still, did she not owe Olivia some consideration? After all, the woman was a distant cousin.

  What am I thinking? How prideful I am, even to think myself a threat of any sort to Olivia. Or that I would want to be. She uttered a quick prayer for help in tempering her pride and putting to death her growing fondness for Cecil.

  ❧

  An hour later, Eunice and Cecil were still in the parlor, where their lessons always took place. They sat at the same table where Eunice and Abigail took tea each afternoon.

  Reaching across the small table, Eunice handed Cecil a cup of the hot liquid. His fingers brushed against hers. Pleasantly taken aback by his strong, warm touch, her hand shook just enough to disrupt the cup and saucer. Not a drop was spilled. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Likewise,” he said quickly, as though he were equally taken aback.

  Cecil looked into her face. He seemed to study it, as though trying to form a mental picture of her features that he could visualize at will. She took note of his features. Even though she had met with him on many occasions, she studied his face as though she were regarding it for the first time. Why hadn’t she noticed the straight, aristocratic line of his nose before? Perhaps his strong cheekbones had just begun to appear as he shed pounds along with his bad habits. His complexion was less sanguine than before. The light in his eyes, though promising gladness, did not hold as much mischief as when she first met him. Mesmerized, she stared into his blue eyes. Eunice wished she could freeze the moment forever.

  As soon as he set the cup down, he took her hands into his. She wanted to protest his boldness, but no voice would leave her lips. She wanted to jerk her hands out of his, but they refused to move.

  “Eunice,” he said, “you are the loveliest creature I have ever seen.”

  Her heart beat with pleasure. She tried to form her expression into a mask of disinterest but knew she failed miserably. Cloistered at school, Eunice had known few flirtations and was not accustomed to empty talk. Still, she tried not to become too enchanted by his flattery. With Cecil’s reputation as a man of the world, she wondered if he were toying with her. A second attempt to remove her hands from his was successful, although she didn’t move them away in an abrupt manner.

  She fought her own vanity so she could summon the courage to deliver an admonishment. “I must remind you that though your words are pleasant to the ear, scripture looks upon flatterers with a jaundiced eye.”

  She was surprised when his expression reflected genuine hurt. “I do not flatter you. My compliment is sincere. You are different from the women I know in London. You possess something I haven’t seen in anyone. Your sense of peace and your radiance surpass even Abigail’s.”

  “Then surely you have surpassed Lord Milton in your flowery speech.” Nevertheless, as they continued the lesson, she knew his words would always stay with her. Yet she was bothered by the blank expression that came over his face when she referred to scripture.

  “Do you read with any regularity?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “The newspaper. And my mail.”

  Cecil’s bored expression told her that he knew Eunice had returned to her role as teacher and that she would have to tread lightly. “But why not read books as well? Familiarity with great literature is part of any gentleman’s education.”

  “I thought you were instructed to polish my manners. Literature was never mentioned.”

  “I have seen your library. How can you possess so many books yet never have any desire to read?”

  “My tutors forced me to read when I was a schoolboy. Since my release from studies, I have not perused a book.” He gazed upon the draperies, although his eyes seemed to glaze over like so much frost on a window. “My father spent many years and a large sum of money in building a fine collection of books. In his later years, they proved to be his only escape from the house. I have no desire to be a recluse. Perhaps that is another reason why I am reticent to engage in books.”

  “Reading books does not make one a recluse.” She paused. “Especially not a man such as yourself who remains fully engaged in life.”

  He nodded. “You have a point. But hunting is so much more sporting.”

  “True. But surely you cannot fill every hour of the day with sport.” She regretted her words as soon as she uttered them. Cecil’s past was nothing if not a record of how a gentleman of leisure could spend the hours in idle play.

  If Cecil recognized the irony in Eunice’s comment, he pretended not to notice. “I suppose I should venture into the library now and again.”

  “How long has it been?”

  He shifted in his seat. “I spend most of my time in London, as you well know. The few times I am here in the country, I am loathe to sit by the fire with a book.”

  “You haven’t set foot in the library in years, then.” She made sure to keep any judgmental tone out of her voice.

  “Years. I regret that I must admit you are correct.” He shifted back to his original position.

  So he hadn’t read a book in years. She wondered how many years but decided not to ask. She had embarrassed Cecil enough for one day. No wonder any knowledge of the Bible he had beyond, perhaps, the Ten Commandments had long been forgotten. She watched the spiritually starved man. If only he were not so proud! She knew that pride kept him from admitting he needed God. A man of obvious intelligence, he was too crafty to let her trick him into reading the Bible. Besides, according to her reading of scripture, the Lord wanted souls to come to Him willingly, not by coercion.

  Eunice said a quick prayer for guidance, then she spoke. “I have a splendid idea. Why not start today?”

  He let out an irritated sigh. “Why did I know you would say that? If I could be so accurate in reading thoughts on a consistent basis, I could make my money playing parlor tricks in the theatre.”

  “I cannot imagine such an occupation would offer you happiness for long.” She rose to her feet.

  He followed suit.

  “Good,” she said. “I am glad to see that your reflexes are improving.”

  “As long as you don’t bob up and down too frequently. This etiquette business can be hard on a man’s knees.”

  “You are not as feeble as all that.”

  “Hardly.” He puffed out his chest. “But why do you rise? Surely we are not done here.”

  “No, but I thought we might venture into the library. I might like to take a look at more of your books myself. Uncle Eric’s library is mainly composed of dry business journals. I have already read most of the works of fiction he owned.”

  “I am pleased that the Sutton library can be of interest to you. But I am not sure I care to select a volume for my own reading pleasure just now,” he said.

  “Are you sure? Perhaps a trip to the library will change your mind.” She had a thought. “I know you have a wonderful collection of Shakespeare’s works. Why not begin with reading one of his plays?”

  “Shakespeare.” He pursed his lips. “I have not sat down to read the Bard since my school days.”

  “You might appreciate his wit more now.”

  “Perhaps I would.” He hesitated only for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

  “Excellent.” She began walking toward the door. He took her by the elbow and kept her mod
erate pace. Although the gesture was unnecessary, she felt protected. The feeling was not unpleasant.

  “To read or not to read. That is the question,” he proclaimed.

  She laughed at his twisting of Hamlet. “I say that to read is to be.”

  “Very good!” He smiled and chuckled. “I like a woman who has a way with words.”

  His compliment, though quipped over an insignificant exchange, pleased her.

  A moment later, they entered the library just down the great hall. Cecil headed toward the south wall. He reached up and selected a copy of Hamlet, reaching it easily thanks to his significant physical stature. He opened the leather-bound book and looked inside.

  “Are you certain you have not visited the library lately? You went right to the book you wanted.”

  He looked up from his book and twisted his mouth in a sardonic grin. “My father was nothing if not predictable. The order of volumes in this library has never changed in my memory. Only when new volumes were added did Father disrupt the stability of his collection.”

  Eunice surveyed the massive assemblage of books. “No doubt such keen organization makes every book easier to find.”

  “Indubitably.” He snapped the book shut. “I never thought I would say this, but I want to thank you for bringing me here. Indeed, I believe I will actually look forward to retiring early with this book tonight.”

  “Splendid.” She said yet another silent prayer before she made her next venture. “I look forward to reading each night, too. But even the finest fiction is not enough for me.”

  His eyebrows formed two doubtful arches. “Are you telling me that you plan to tackle your uncle’s business journals?”

  She laughed. “Uncle Eric may have memorized most of them, but not I. No, the nonfiction I read is contained in scripture. I read a little each evening. I am also in the habit of consulting scripture when I wake up each morning, even before my feet touch the floor. I find the readings an inspiring way to begin my day, allowing me to focus on God.”

  “And does your reading also offer an excuse to remain in bed a bit longer?”

  Uttered by anyone else, the comment would have insulted Eunice. But by this time, she was accustomed to his style of wit. “A benefit on some days, perhaps. If I am tempted in such a way, I consult the verses in Proverbs warning against laziness.”

  “A grand idea.” He chuckled. “But to stay in bed even a few moments longer—for that, even I might read scripture.” The sardonic grin returned.

  “Then why not?”

  “Even if my motives are less than pure?”

  “Even if your motives are less than pure. Your admission of that is a good start,” she assured him. “In any event, once you start seeking the Lord, you will be awed by how He will turn your heart to Him.”

  “You are amazing.” His voice was soft.

  “Amazing? Me? Oh, no.” Her modesty was not false. Her surprise at his observation was genuine.

  “I think you are. No matter what I say or do, you accept me for who I am.”

  “Yes, I do. For the man you are now and the man you are destined to become.”

  “You have more faith in me than I do in myself.”

  “Perhaps your own faith can be girded by your reading,” Eunice said. “I suggest you start with Psalms, Proverbs, and the Gospels.”

  “Very well. I understand that a gentleman is always a student. Olivia should be pleased.”

  “Yes. Yes, she should.” Eunice felt a lump form in her throat. She stood up, and Cecil followed suit. “I–I shall be taking my leave of you now,” she said. “Shakespeare left quite a body of work. Reading all of it will take quite some time.”

  She wished he would stop her from leaving the parlor, but he did not. She turned her head quickly away from him and wiped a tear from her eyes.

  ❧

  Cecil opened his Bible—for the first time in memory since his boyhood—with a feeling of trepidation and dread. He remembered the scriptures to be a dry listing of shalts and shalt nots, along with reports of long-ago battles between the Hebrews and their enemies. When he first turned the pages of the book, in his mind he could see a picture of his old schoolmaster. Master Evans had insisted that he learn the Bible, forcing him to memorize verses that were forgotten as soon as the lesson was completed. Granted, Tedric had devoured the tenets of the faith when he was a small child. The study of scripture was his favorite course of learning, a fact he readily admitted. Cecil even remembered how a little glow emanated from his brother’s face whenever Tedric talked about the Bible. Not so with Cecil. At least, not then.

  But this time, when he looked at the passages that Eunice suggested, Cecil found it much more fascinating than he remembered. Now well past the brink of manhood, he was ready for the Word. Because of his experience, he could see the wisdom of Proverbs and feel David’s emotion expressed in Psalms. Without realizing he had passed the requirements of the initial assignment from Eunice, Cecil explored several passages of the New Testament he had long forgotten. Many of Jesus’ teachings that had gone in one ear and out the other when he was a child seemed pertinent to his current situation.

  Not that everything Jesus had to say comforted him; rather, conviction concerning his own sin arose in many passages. Yet the offer of hope—of true salvation being possible even for a cad such as himself—gave him an optimism he had not felt in years. He wanted to read more, but the small bit of twilight still shining through the window and the dying embers of the fire showed that the day was passing rapidly. Tomorrow he could pursue his reading further. He shut the book and held it in his lap for a moment, not wishing for his time of solitude to end.

  He heard the hinges on the study door squeak as someone entered. Cecil looked up and saw his brother. Tedric’s eyes were wide as though he had seen a haunting spirit.

  “Cecil! What are you reading?”

  “Certainly the same book you read yourself on a daily basis.”

  Tedric surveyed the volume sitting in Cecil’s lap. “I recognize it.” He shook his head.

  “Why do you seem so shocked?” Cecil couldn’t resist jesting. “Did you think I devote all my time to reading the political columns?”

  “A great deal of it, to be sure,” Tedric quipped. “I beg your pardon, but I am shocked to find you reading any book at all, much less, much less—”

  “The Bible.” Cecil chuckled. “I know. So that you do not succumb completely to apoplexy, rest assured that I have also spent considerable time with the Bard today.”

  “I never fancied you would spend time with Shakespeare.”

  “Oh, but I am. Under duress. And I am only reading scripture as part of my course of study with Eunice. She insists, you know. She says that reading is part of my education.”

  The light of excitement and his amused grin fell from Tedric’s face. His disappointment that Cecil hadn’t given himself over to the Lord then and there was reward enough for the time being. Cecil was glad he wasn’t as dull as his prig of a brother. As dull as an old country vicar, undoubtedly. As much as he wanted to embrace the Savior, Cecil dreaded the thought of losing his sense of adventure and playfulness.

  Yet Tedric was married to Abigail, and Cecil was trying to change for a fiancée whose love he had begun to question. The irony did not escape him. Perhaps he himself, not his prig of a brother, Tedric, was the fool.

  Tedric recovered enough to joke. “Forgotten everything Master Evans taught us, eh?”

  “Not entirely. But the years have dimmed my memory enough that a refresher is in order.”

  “I trust you are enjoying your task, then.”

  “To an extent.” He cast a warning look Tedric’s way. “But do not suppose that my goal is to become as devout as you are. I am only doing this to please Eunice—and Olivia,” he added with haste. He hoped Tedric wouldn’t notice his blunder.

  No such luck. “To please Eunice?”

  “And Olivia. Just as I said.”

  “I see. I su
ppose the lessons with Eunice will be ending soon. After all, there are only so many manners to be learned, even by an ambassador, to be sure.”

  The thought of not seeing Eunice on a regular basis was an unhappy one, a development he didn’t wish to contemplate. True, the lessons were becoming thinner. Vanity allowed him to believe that Eunice was finding new manners for him to learn so that they could see each other. At least, he hoped so.

  ❧

  Eunice tried not to think about Cecil or about Olivia. Instead, she occupied her time with the house. Selecting colors of paint for various rooms, new wallpaper, and fabric for fresh draperies cheered her spirit. The anticipation of the house, now drab and gray, being decorated to look as if Eunice herself lived there gave her something to anticipate—a process not laden with guilt or care.

  Seeing her aunt come alive during the course of decorating the house rejuvenated her soul. “The wallpaper in the parlor is coming along nicely.” Aunt May clasped her hands in rapture. “Perhaps we will be ready for a soiree by Christmastide after all.”

  Eunice remembered the botanical pattern they had chosen and visualized the motif of pink and red roses against a creamy background. “The parlor should benefit greatly from such improvement. I look forward to entertaining our friends amid such beauty.”

  “As do I.” Aunt May smiled. “Oh, and I wanted to mention the dining hall. Do you favor that the walls be painted copper green, or do you prefer another pattern of botanical paper?”