When finally he lifted his head to stare down into her twilight-darkened eyes, she didn't know what to say or do. Confusion ran riot through her. She returned his kiss with an honesty that told more of her secrets than she'd ever privileged anyone to know. That frightened her, yet curiously gave her peace. That dichotomy provoked her to retreat before him nervously.
Branstoke stared at her a long moment in silence as he willed his breathing to slow. "I will be waiting until you realize you both want and need me," he said rawly. "Give my regards to Lady Meriton." He bowed formally and left, flinging open the parlor door with an uncommon force.
Lady Jessamine Meriton, coming down from her studio, paused on the last stair, her hand resting on the newel post. She looked up to see Sir James Branstoke striding toward her with unnatural haste. She opened her mouth to greet him amiably, but the words died on her lips. A set mask of black anger contorted his features until he little resembled the suave, urbane gentleman of her acquaintance.
He slowed as he came even with her, his features twisting into a semblance of a polite smile. He nodded curtly.
Pleased to see he was not wholly lost to all niceties of manner, she was nonetheless quick to attribute his startling lack of legendary phlegm to her niece. It was odd—and rather delightfully comical—how Cecilia and Branstoke were suddenly prone to unusual and uncommon behavior. She wondered if either knew how serious was the malady—or if either had yet to name it correctly.
As he would pass her, she put out a slender hand to detain him. "Will you not stay for refreshments?"
"No, thank you, Lady Meriton. I fear if I did, they would end on my head," he said, glancing toward the closed parlor door.
"You mustn't mind Cecilia when she's in a temper. She gets that way when she feels—well, out of control, I suppose one would say. She prefers to have the management of all things."
"So I am to gather," he drawled.
"I think she feels safer that way," she went on ruminatively, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "So much of her life has been mismanaged by others, you know. When anyone does anything the least bit managing, she flies into a pelter. It is a reflexive action, I suspect."
Branstoke looked at her keenly, dark emotion settling out of his features. "I believe I begin to understand," he said slowly, a slight smile forming on his lips in quite his old manner. "Thank you, Lady Meriton."
She smiled. "You're welcome. And please come again, Sir James. You are a much more entertaining caller than the others who paraded through this morning and who, it appears, we shall see more of."
He laughed shortly. "Haukstrom's cronies?"
"Dear me, yes. And all anxious to put it to the touch, it would seem. Mr. Rippy fired the first salvo this morning."
"And her response?"
"Can you not guess? No, of course. But she continues to encourage him to call. Truly, it is a comedy of manners to see those gentlemen vie for her attention. Of course, they are only after her money; but watching provides sport. My only fear is that in a welter of guilt, she will accept one of them. Particularly now, with this Thornbridge matter." She shivered slightly, then pinned Branstoke with a stern eye. "Is Mr. Thornbridge truly to recover?"
"Yes, he will, which is better than perhaps he deserves considering the foolish path he's tread."
"I only pray Cecilia does not stoop to pick up the dropped gauntlet,” Lady Meriton said.
"You think she would?" Branstoke asked, his lips compressing into a tight line.
"Unfortunately, yes."
"So do I," he agreed heavily. “So do I.”
They looked at each other steadily, a shared understanding between them. "It is a stubborn, self-willed niece you have," Branstoke said, humor once again rippling his smooth voice. "Do not worry; I shall continue to watch out for her, despite her wishes to the contrary." He squeezed her hand in reassurance, then continued down the hall.
Lady Meriton watched him leave, a satisfied smile hovering on her lips. When she heard the front door close after him, she roused and turned toward the parlor, wondering if it would prove as easy to lighten Cecilia's disposition. She opened the door quietly, peeking in to gauge her niece's attitude. Cecilia was standing by the window looking out into the street below.
"Yes, he finally left," she said wryly.
Cecilia turned toward Jessamine, her hand falling away from the drape. "He is, without any doubt, the most exasperating gentleman of my acquaintance."
"And you care for him."
"Jessamine! What a singularly erroneous idea! Don't tell me that is whathetoldyou?The man is arrogant, opinionated, self-willed, conceited, and stubborn. And those are quite possibly his better traits!"
"Oh, dear, I see."
"Do you know what he did? He had someone follow Mr. Thornbridge about."
"Follow Mr. Thornbridge?"
