She blinked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her cheeks were charmingly flushed, and her hair was splayed across the pillows. She was the very picture of wanton innocence.
Even though his body throbbed with interest, he reminded himself that not only was itshewho was foxed. “I’m starting to think it might be.”
Cecilia dropped off to sleep with Cassian silently watching her, while trying to wrestle, again, with his emotions. Softly, he turned on his back and tucked his arms under his head to stare at the ceiling.
The iron-clad decision he had made to leave for the Continent was wavering, but now… he shifted his head to look at Cecilia.Could he really leave her, even with the ember of care and protectiveness he had for her blazing bright in his chest?
Maybe it’s time to start putting some distance between us.
A rustle beside him had his head turning to Cecilia, moments before she shifted to rest a hand on his chest. The urge he had just had to leave vanished.
Shifting them to their side, he wrapped his arm around her middle and tucked his face into the crook of her neck.
Maybe just this one time then.
CHAPTER 21
“Your Grace,” Andrews’ voice interrupted Cecilia’s soft daydream of last night. Did she remember Cassian’s tender hold on her waist, or had she been dreaming?
She shook her head, “Yes?”
“You have visitors,” the butler said. “Lady Emma Montrose and Miss Rosalind. I am aware you were not ready for visitors, but—”
“No, no.” Cecilia stood from her seat in the library. A flush of warmth and comfort ran through her heart at knowing her friends were there, despite knowing she was not ready for visitors yet.
Why are they here, though?
“Let them in, and please send up a tray of refreshments,” she said, “thank you.”
As soon as she turned around, Rosie was blowing through the door like a tempest about to blow. Alarmed, Cecilia rushed, “Rosie! What is—”
“I am this close to exploding!” Rosie’s peach gown fluttered behind her as she paced like a springing horse. “Whitmore is milking your shame into something so much worse.”
Cecilia frowned, “Like what?”
“He’s spreading rumors,” Emma said quietly.
“About what?” Cecilia’s eyes shifted between the two.
Emma twisted her hands. “I am sure you could not have heard because you are so far from London, but Earl Somerton has told me—”
That name sounded familiar. “Earl Somerton? As in Benjamin Hadleigh? Cassian’s friend and solicitor?”
“Yes,” Emma said tightly. “Last night, he related to us at Lady Franklin’s ball that Gabriel is telling every lord he passed paths with salacious passages of a letter you wrote that show how you were—” she bit her lip, “—trying toseducehim.”
Her blood chilled in her veins. “What?”
“He says there are several other letters you wrote to him as well, but I do not believe that,” Rosie added. “The man is a bumbling liar.”
As stunned as she felt, the hurt she expected to feel did not hit her as hard. Instead, sore, grating disappointment dropped in her heart.
And to think I was going to marry this man. When was he going to show his true colors?
“I am sure that wretch he is with is putting him up to this,” Rosie huffed.
Cecilia shook her head. “It might be true, but that is mean, Rosie. She might be bad, but we are all seeing Whitmore’s true colors. They are probably feeding off each other.”
With an aggravated puff, Rosie sat and rooted through her reticule to pluck her fan out and began to beat the air as if it insulted her. “If I had the power, I’d call him to Rotten Row.”
