Her ballgown was taken away by Peggy to be laundered for her and she had asked Blackwood about the possibility of a carriage to take her back to Hamilton Hall. She didn’t know what her aunt and uncle would make of it. They would not miss her but would not take kindly to anything remotely smelling of scandal. Their niece needing to leave before the ball had truly gotten underway and not in her own clothes would be scandal enough. No proof of any wrongdoing existed but the circumstances were unusual enough that the gossipmongers of the ton would certainly invent their own. Blackwood had instructed her to remain in Peggy’s room until he was ready to take her to the stable yard and the carriage. Cecilia sat on a wooden chair beside the bed, hands folded in her lap, and waited.
The room was simple, larger than the accommodation given to servants at Hamilton Hall. There was a bed, a wardrobe, and a dressing table and chair. A small window looked out over a garden. Her own quarters at Hamilton Hall comprised what had once been a storeroom. Furniture had been put into the room for her but no other accommodation had been made. It was cold and drafty, never meant for human comfort.
Cecilia’s thoughts went to the master of this house. She wondered at the sheer insanity that had gripped them both. Or was it merely an attraction so strong that it battered down the defenses of modesty and propriety? They had behaved abominably but she could not bring herself to regret it. Except, Lionel Grisham was the man who had killed her brother. How could she consider making love with him? She was not an animal, able to indulge in such an act without thought or emotion. But, then again, that was precisely how she had behaved. Hadn’t she?
The feel of his body against her body, his lips against her own, filled her memory. It was still vivid. She could even recall the scent of him, the musky cologne that screamed masculinity. The woody aroma that came from his leather boots and his hair, speaking of time spent out of doors. The hardness of his physique, and in particular… Cecilia found herself blushing furiously. That had been a surprise. She was educated enough to know how sexual reproduction worked, the mechanics of it. But, it had never occurred to her exactly how it would feel. That pressure against her had been monumental, even a little frightening. A tingle swept through her that made her clench her legs together and curl up her toes. It was a wonderful feeling and brought on by the memory of Lionel’s powerful form. Shehad been helpless before him. Had he so desired, he could have ravaged the clothes from her body. Rendered her naked and then there would have been no barrier between his hungry, insatiable yearning and her maidenhead.
She fanned her face with one hand, trying to think of anything else, not wanting to be blushing when Blackwood returned for her. The handle of the door turned and she spun to the window to hide her face.
“Miss Sinclair! What on earth!” exclaimed Sir Gerald Knightley.
Cecilia whirled at the voice.
“Cecilia! Explain yourself this instant!” her uncle snapped.
He stood behind Sir Gerald in the doorway. And behind him was her aunt, face crimson, and mouth open and aghast. Cecilia stood, frozen to the spot as Sir Gerald sauntered into the room. His feigned shock was replaced with a smug grin that she had come to recognize as his customary expression. He kept his back to her uncle so that he could not see it.
“I… I… wine was spilled on my dress. Lionel… I mean His Grace kindly offered to let me change my clothes,” she stammered.
“Lionelis it!” Uncle Rupert exclaimed, “well, I see all too well what has been going on here. You were presumably going to rejoin the guests dressed like a servant. Did you think it would be a good joke to play on us?”
“The very notion! Oh, I have never been so mortified!” Aunt Margaret gasped, crowding closer, eyes going wider as her mouth became more pursed.
She and Rupert pushed their way into the room alongside Sir Gerald, closing the door behind them.
“I was not planning on going back to the ball dressed like this,” Cecilia replied with indignation, “in fact, His Grace has arranged for a carriage to take me back to Hamilton Hall, as well as for my dress to be laundered.”
“Oh, we know all about the dress, young lady,” Aunt Margaret snapped, “that is what led us to you. It is fortunate that Sir Gerald caught a servant with your dress after becoming lost in this maze of a house. And recognized it too. He alerted us that something untoward was going on.”
Cecilia glared at Sir Gerald who had put on a look of concern now that the other two could see his face. He frowned and nodded as Aunt Margaret spoke.
“The dress was torn, I observed,” he noted somberly. “Naturally, I feared the worst.”
“It was not torn!” Cecilia retorted.
Then she recalled the fall and subsequent tryst between herself and Lionel. In that confusion, could her dress have been ripped? How would it seem to an outsider that a young womandisappears with a Duke into a backroom of his home and emerges with a torn dress?
“Do not lie! Tell us what you have been up to!” Aunt Margaret chided.
“Tell us what that blackguard Thornhill made you do…” Uncle Rupert added gravely.
“You are among friends and safe now,” Sir Gerald chimed in without a hint of the lie he was telling.
“That sinful man!” Aunt Margaret gasped theatrically.
There came a rap at the door which Uncle Rupert whirled to and snatched open. Blackwood was on the other side, looking surprised for a moment.
“Miss Sinclair, your carriage is prepared, as is your return journey,” he declared with marvelous equanimity, choosing to completely ignore the situation.
“Pah!I do not think so. Send for your master at once!” Uncle Rupert spat. “She shall be returning home, but not in any conveyance of Thornhill’s, I can assure you.”
“And we will not see him in this… this dingy little room. Quite why he chose to hide away my niece in such a place is beyond me. What he intended here is all too obvious. We will receivehim in his private study, away from the other guests. Convey us there, then run to your master,” Aunt Margaret added haughtily.
If Blackwood was offended by the insinuations or surprised, he didn’t show it. He merely bowed and withdrew from the room without uttering a sound. Moments later, a groom appeared to escort Cecilia and the others. Uncle Rupert and Aunt Margaret flanked Cecilia as though she were a prisoner, marching her through the labyrinthine stone hallways of Thornhill Castle with Sir Gerald following behind.
They were taken up several flights of stairs and shown into a stone-walled chamber with a high beamed ceiling. A large wooden desk stood in front of a fireplace the height of two tall men standing one atop the other. The room gleamed in the light cast by the fire, the deepest ruby. Bookcases coated the walls with reading tables and chairs scattered about. A rifle hung in a space between those bookcases. Cecilia looked at it as she was shown to a seat, practically pushed into it by Aunt Margaret.
“You are most fortunate to have a benefactor like Sir Gerald take an interest in you,” she hissed lowly, “noticing how you were seduced into leaving the great hall by that nefarious man. Had he not, I shudder to think what might have happened!”
