One Whisper Away (3 page)

“It was perfectly innocent.”

“If so, why not just reveal what he said?”

Now there was a valid point. “Well, it was not
completely
innocent,” she admitted with reluctance. “However, I do not want everyone to keep talking about it, so I have declined to comment.”

To her surprise, her grandmother paused for a moment and then nodded in approval. “If it would fuel the fire, it is best to keep it to yourself.”

Through several cups of tea, currant scones, éclairs, and the chef’s famous raspberry jam, the subject lapsed and Cecily almost thought she was free of it until she rose to leave, going over to give her grandmother a dutiful kiss on the cheek.

Her gray hair neatly coiffed, the lines of her patrician face as uncompromising as her posture, her grandmother said unexpectedly, “I know you will find this difficult to believe, but you are the spitting image of myself at eighteen.”

Cecily straightened and smiled. “That is encouraging. You are very handsome, Grandmama.”

“Humph.” The sound was derisive, but there could have been a faint uncharacteristic gleam of humor in her eyes. “False flattery doesn’t move me. My point is that beauty can be a commodity, child, or it can be a liability. Maybe it would be best to keep your distance from Lord Augustine.”

Cecily left a bit bemused, for her grandmother rarely said anything personal. As she headed back toward her room, she happened to encounter her brother in the hallway of the family apartments. Roderick halted when he caught sight of her. “I was just looking for you.”

With the same fair coloring and fine family features, he was close enough in age that they’d spent many childhood hours together, though as the heir, he had gone off to Eton, and then Cambridge, and been kept apart as they approached adulthood and he trained to become the duke someday. Only since she’d come to London had she had seen a little more of her brother.

“You just missed tea with Grandmama,” she informed him.

“Thank God,” he muttered.

“Are we being disrespectful?”

“It wasn’t my intention, but it is still heartfelt gratitude to the powers above. I will freely admit she terrifies me most of the time. Can I have a word?”

Cecily laughed, but then it faded and she eyed him with an enlightened wariness. “Only if it isn’t about Lord Augustine. I am sick unto death over the subject. Really, society needs more titillating events to keep their attention.”

“I won’t mention his name.” Her brother scowled. “Though I am half tempted to—”

She interrupted with decisive firmness. “Don’t you dare do anything to keep my name on the tongue of every gossipmonger in the
ton
.”

His eyes were crystalline blue, like their father’s and Eleanor’s, and he hesitated and held her gaze for a moment before he nodded. “I’ll leave it alone.”

“I would advise it.” Not just for the sake of her reputation, but she had a fair idea that Jonathan Bourne was not someone she wanted her brother facing in a duel. Not only was Roderick younger, but he lacked that highly honed edge of danger. Besides, defending her honor was not necessary. Other than that outrageous comment, no insult had been given. As it was, the whispers wouldn’t last. The
ton
was notoriously fickle. “Now,” she said, drawing in a breath, “what is it you wish to discuss?”

“Viscount Drury.”

She didn’t mean to groan out loud, but truly, she couldn’t help it. “Roddy, I—”

“Hear me out,” he interrupted with an impatient gesture.

The elegant hallway with its high ceilings and small polished tables was suddenly not private enough. She had a sense of what her brother was going to say. “Fine. I’d rather talk in here.”

The sitting room off her bedroom was at least more secluded. Who knew when a chambermaid might come along with an armful of linens, and if they continued to argue in the hallway they might be overheard. Well, maybe not
argue
, but she knew they were about to strongly disagree.

Roderick followed her, quiet as he closed the door, and when he turned around, he said abruptly, “He is going to offer for you. He told me so this afternoon. With Father’s permission in hand, he plans to propose to you. Surely you knew.”

“I was afraid of it.” Cecily sat down abruptly on the edge of a silk-covered chair and sighed. Elijah Winters, Lord Drury, had been very attentive. Two bouquets of flowers had arrived just that morning, and he had begun to call almost every day. It was problematic in more than just one way.

“Afraid of it? That doesn’t sound very promising.”

“I know he is your friend.”

“But?” Roderick didn’t sit but paced over to the fireplace and turned around, elegant in his dark blue coat, his hair fashionably mussed. “I hear the hedging in your voice.”

She clasped her hands. “But there are two very good reasons I will refuse, the least of which is I am not interested. The first and foremost is Eleanor.”

Her brother actually looked surprised. “What? What does she have to do with this?”

Are all men so dense?
she wondered irritably.

Carefully, she said, “She is fond of him in a way I am not.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I do.” Cecily fought the urge to grind her teeth. “But not as she does. Haven’t you noticed?”

“No.”

“Think about it. She wears her nicest gowns when he comes here. She tries her best to be tactful, which is her downfall, for when she stifles her personality, it comes off too stilted. Lord Drury might just be as oblivious as you are. It is somewhat of a problem. As far as I can tell, she is so terrified of saying the wrong thing to him that she barely manages to string two words together coherently. If she didn’t care what he thought, she would simply be herself. Then there is also the way she looks at him.”

“Looks at him?” Her brother seemed truly mystified.

Explaining it looked to be a lesson in futility, so Cecily just said, “Trust me, she is infatuated with him. Surely you know that last season he had an interest in her, but something happened.”

“I suppose they seemed to chat a bit more than is usual. . . . Eleanor isn’t the average female and she likes to talk about politics and such. I thought that was it,” he admitted. “He never said anything to me that indicated it was more than an acquaintance.”

“Did it strike you that she declined to even entertain an offer of marriage from anyone else?”

“She’s remarkably stubborn, you know that. What makes you think he had anything to do with it?”

It was difficult to draw the line between confidence and speculation, and Roddy might not be the most perceptive male on earth—was there even such a creature?—but he was trustworthy, so Cecily said abruptly, “At the beginning of the season she wrote me about him.”

Roderick’s demeanor changed. “She did?”

Eleanor was not one to write in the first place, much less to reveal her intimate thoughts. That letter was quite telling. “Yes, she did. And described him in glowing terms, for her.”

It finally sank in. Roderick muttered, “Oh, I see.” Then he dropped into a delicate chair that looked insufficient to hold his tall body and rubbed his forehead. “Well, that’s a damnable complication.”

Lord Drury was a very nice man. He was also handsome, rich, and well mannered. Cecily was sure he would make an admirable husband. For her sister. Who she was convinced wanted him. “Isn’t it?” she agreed. “The question is how are you going to deal with it?”

“Me?” Her brother’s slumped form straightened in alarm. “I do not see how this is my affair.”

She gazed at him, almost laughing at the surprise evident in his expression. “Yes, indeed.
You
. We just discussed how you and Drury are friends. Can’t you speak to him about Eleanor? She’s beautiful, accomplished, and everything else a man could want. Find out what happened to cool his interest.”

“I think I can guess.” Roderick ran his hand through his fair hair. “She’s often too opinionated. No one says anything in front of me, but I know it is why she was so unpopular her first season.”

Unfortunately their sister was also extremely outspoken, too clever by half, and did not have a flirtatious bone in her body. Cecily had the feeling men found her intimidating compared to most of the simpering debutantes. Because of Eleanor’s tendency to be less than diplomatic, she made it a point to keep as quiet as possible in social situations, and that didn’t help matters either. Cecily was sure people could sense the awkwardness.

“I agree. As I said, I think there was an incident between them.”

“I didn’t know she fancied him in a serious way.” Roderick looked chagrined. “And he’s besotted with you. Does she realize it?”

Besotted
was the wrong word. Maybe the viscount thought she was suitable, but that was quite different from infatuation, and Cecily rather thought her sister
did
realize it. “If she does, she has never mentioned it, but that alone speaks volumes. I now think he might be the reason she hasn’t favored anyone else.”

“Are you sure?”

Cecily nodded. “You could hint at her interest, but in the most delicate way possible.”

“Delicate?” Roderick sounded appalled.

Maybe that was the wrong word to use with the male of the human species. She amended her comment: “Be subtle. Bring up her name and gauge his reaction. Maybe if he knew how she feels, he might assess the situation differently. I haven’t received the impression he is truly fond of me—we don’t know each other well enough for that. I’ve just had my coming out, and he has decided it is time to look for a wife. I’m flattered, but I suspect we’d end up boring each other to death. He needs someone much more like Eleanor.”

Roderick eyed her dubiously and asked again, “You’re sure this is true?”

She thought of the last party they’d attended and how Eleanor had watched the handsome viscount the entire evening, while feigning nonchalance. She and Eleanor might be several years apart in age, but they were very close and Cecily
knew
her sister. She nodded decisively. “I am.”

It sounded distinctly like her brother said a blasphemous word under his breath. “I suppose if you are going to refuse him, I can find some diplomatic way of mentioning Eleanor.” Roderick rose then, but he paused before leaving the room. His gaze was direct. “I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up, but what the devil
did
Augustine say to you the other night? I’m as curious as everyone else.”

If she told him the truth, he might just play the outraged brother, and maybe he even should, but once again, it would lift the gossip to new heights. The earl had been audacious, but certainly it wasn’t worth the furor over it.

“It was nothing,” she said firmly.

 

Jonathan reined in his horse and slid off, patting the neck of the sleek black with an appreciative hand. “Good afternoon, Will.”

“Did you have a good ride, milord?” The young groom came forward and took the reins, his expression scrupulously polite, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes. “ ’ Tis a lovely day.”

At least the staff seemed to like his lack of formality He knew his peers were not nearly as accepting. “Riding in a park isn’t exactly the same as what I am used to, but yes, it was good to enjoy a bit of sunshine.” Jonathan tugged off his gloves and grinned. “And I was able to absent myself while a drove of females descended on the household. Maybe you’d better leave Seneca saddled in case I need to make a quick escape.”

The boy grinned back. “I’ll have him at the ready, sir.”

Earl or not, there was no issue in Jonathan’s mind with familiarity with servants, and the boy, probably no more than sixteen, with his shock of fair hair and ingenuous good humor, was a natural with horses, which lifted any man high in his opinion. He asked with resignation, “I take it my sisters have arrived?”

“Two hours ago.”

He was doomed to having to play host and guardian, and he knew it, so he merely inclined his head. “I suppose I had better go in.”

Will coughed on a laugh. “No help for it, milord, I’m afraid.”

As he strode toward the front of the house and the steps, Jonathan mentally shook his head. It was bad enough having to travel to England to assume his responsibilities as his father’s only son, but to have to deal with the animosity of his family was a teeth-grinding ordeal he wished he could simply avoid. That didn’t appear possible, however. The most untenable part of the whole situation was that by the technicality of English law, he was the guardian of each one of them until they married.

How ironic. Being responsible for three young ladies who disdained him. But he had done his duty in that he’d invited them to London, and though Lillian’s note back had been to the point and barely polite, she had accepted for all of them with a literary sniff of ungraciousness.

James was right. They
were
his problem.

Very much so.

That was fine. He could easily endure their derision if that was how it was going to be, but he would not tolerate it if they snubbed Adela. His daughter shouldn’t have to pay for his sins, and he knew firsthand what it was like to suffer for a questionable parentage, earl or not. He’d even debated leaving his daughter behind with his aunt, but both he and Adela would suffer from being apart, so he hoped he’d made the right decision. In the next few moments, he would find out if it was a mistake.

His three half sisters were in the formal drawing room, he discovered, sitting in silence as if it were some sort of penance, hands folded in their laps, their expressions reflecting varying levels of emotion. Lily, naturally, he noted as he stood in the doorway, declined to do more than simply cast a glance in his direction, her hauteur evident. Betsy was absorbed in the view out to the gardens and didn’t seem to notice him standing there, but the youngest, Carole, actually offered a tentative smile.