“I lost track of time utterly,” Lionel said, “Menzies revealed a rather promising lead in his investigation which requires me to go through my father’s papers with a fine tooth-comb. That is what I have been doing but it was not my intention to miss our luncheon date,”
“So this relates to your revenge,” Cecilia said,
She felt a tinge of despair at the knowledge. A touch of sadness. Would she always be secondary to Lionel’s revenge? Would any future child be secondary to it? Would Lionel’s own health become secondary to his thirst for vengeance?
“Of course, that is the sole reason for employing Menzies,” Lionel said, “he told me that…”
Cecilia held up a hand which had smears of warm soup on it.
“Please, Lionel, I would rather not know of the details,”
It hurt to say it, feeling as though she were erecting a barrier between them which was the opposite of her most heart-feltdesires. But at the same time instinct told her that for her own self preservation, she must maintain a distance from it.
“You are not interested in the motivations of the man who murdered your brother?” Lionel asked, tinges of irritation in his voice.
“Of course I am but I have accepted over the years that Arthur died as a result of a terrible accident. I have come to terms with that as much as I am able to. Now, you tell me that he was murdered and if you tell me much more of the circumstances I will not be able to rest. Not ever. Not until his killer is swinging from a rope before me. And even then, I doubt I will feel any satisfaction. Do you not see that revenge is a hunger that can never, ever be sated? I am trying to preserve my own sanity,”
Lionel nodded somberly. A sudden warmth filled the room, as if the fire had flared up unexpectedly. “You are right. I have been neglecting you for all this nonsense.” With a scrunched-up fist, he bunched up the papers on the floor next to him and tossed them into the hearth, clearing the ground. Then, quite unexpectedly, he took her hand in his and licked the smear of soup. “Yum, quite delicious. I must commend the cook for her efforts,” he added, deadpan.
Cecilia burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation and Lionel grinned boyishly back. Was it that easy all along?
She saw a spatter of ink caught in a lock of his hair and carefully wiped it clean with a napkin. Unfortunately, she had not realized quite how wet the napkin already was. A blue-black streak wasleft behind that had the lock dangling heavily in front of Lionel’s face. He raised an eyebrow, eyes crossing as he tried to focus on it.
“I see…” he muttered in challenge, pursing his lips.
He dipped a finger into the one remaining pool of ink on the floor. Cecilia laughed, struggling to her feet. Everything felt so easy, so light all of a sudden, as if the weight of her troubles had evaporated into thin air.
“Do not dare!” she warned as he advanced with his inky finger.
Lionel chased her across the room as Cecilia laughed and giggled. They dodged around furniture until she collapsed into a chair. Lionel dotted her on the nose with his finger, leaving an inky black mark on its tip.
“Revenge,” he said, firmly.
Cecilia responded by grabbing for the front of his shirt, hauling him down to her, and kissing him thoroughly. After a moment, she carefully rubbed her nose along his, up and down, painting his patrician, Roman nose with the ink he had left.
“Revenge,” she murmured, just as firmly.
“I choose you over everything,” he whispered, his voice unusually tender, resonating deeply within her. His words seemed to reverberate in her chest, a promise that felt as eternalas the dream-like glow surrounding them. “From now on, it’s just you and me.”
As he took her in his arms, the room around them seemed to fade into a hazy golden mist.
A feeling surged in Cecilia just then. That perhaps, everything would be alright after all.
Cecilia woke to a sound in the still, blackness of the bedchamber she shared with Lionel. A full moon cast a silvery glow through the window. For a moment she blinked at it, trying to remember the dream that she had been having. Then Lionel appeared, stripped to his undergarment, running a weary hand through his hair. His body and his movements shouted of utter exhaustion.
“I’m sorry I missed dinner,” he whispered, pulling back the bedclothes and lowering himself to the bed with a groan.
“Is it done?” she whispered back sleepily.
“Not yet. But we are getting close,” came the reply.
As he lowered the bedclothes around himself, Cecilia put her arm across him, letting her body mold itself to his.
Within minutes, his breathing had deepened into the regular, steady rhythm of sleep. Cecilia lay for a while, thinking of thelonely day that she had spent. Another day in which her husband had promised his time, only to forget as his quest for revenge consumed him. She closed her eyes against the silent flow of tears that spilled down her cheeks.
She prayed that this would be the last day. That this was the worst of it.
CHAPTER 24
