"Oh? Do you have any suggestions? I ask merely for informational purposes that I may understand the drift of your mind."
"Of course, and may I say that is wise of you. Too many young women would take offense at my words. I am pleased to see you have the maturity to appreciate receiving wisdom and guidance from others."
"Thank you," she murmured pleasantly while her yellow kid-gloved fingers curved into talons. How could this arrogant man ever have been the shy-mannered gentleman of Miss Amblethorp's memory? It did not seem possible.
"There are any number of gentlemen with the strength of character you need. There is me, of course, and I would say Branstoke, though I understand he is not inclined toward matrimony—"
"While you are?"
"Given the proper understanding from a woman and complementary feelings, yes, I should say so."
"I see. Anyone else? My curiosity, you understand. What about Sir Harry?"
Havelock's eyes narrowed a moment. "Yes, I suppose he also must be considered if he can be brought to forego his tendency toward levity. He can be a remarkably shrewd man. But I would not recommend that any decisions be made with dispatch."
"I shall contrive not to."
"You think me too blunt, perhaps?"
"No, not at all, Lord Havelock. I do not seriously consider remarriage. My health, you understand." She saw him nod solemnly and suppressed a smile. "By the by, have you seen my brother as of late? We had a slight family tiff while at Oastley, and I fear he is foresworn of my company. Silly, really."
"Yes, I have, and judging from his demeanor, I should say whatever transpired, you were the victor."
"Still pouting?"
"I'm afraid so. Tomorrow evening a group of us are gathering to rehearse a play—"
"Rehearse 'a play?"
He looked down at her, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "It is a short piece of Harry's devising. We humor him. You and Lady Meriton shall have to come to the performance as my guests."
"We should be delighted," she cried, clasping her hands together.
"I believe Elsdon is sending out cards tomorrow. Until then, it is to be a secret. I would appreciate it if you did not mention it to him until you receive your invitation. He can be tiresome if crossed."
She laughed. "You have my word."
"Anyway, as I was saying, tomorrow evening we rehearse for several hours, then we adjourn to my quarters for cards. Randolph has promised to attend—and knowing his head, no doubt I shall be obliged to put him up for the entire night. While in my clutches, shall I contrive to hint to him that a reconciliation would be in order?"
"That would be most kind of you."
He nodded as if that were understood. Cecilia smiled again, and this time it lit her eyes, for the kernel of a plan was forming in her fertile mind. She kept up a lively conversation to atone for her earlier reticence, her hands fluttering about as she talked until she happened to see Sir James Branstoke driving Miss Cresswell. Suddenly a heavy weight felt like it was pressing upon her chest. She turned to Lord Havelock and hinted that the clouds were becoming a worrisome dark gray and that the freshening wind threatened to chill her to the bone. They contrived to arrive back at Lady Meriton's house before the threatening fat raindrops began their steady fall. Snidely she found she hoped Miss Cresswell was not similarly fortunate.
* * *
"Plaguey weather,ain't it? A good night to stageKing Lear,I should think, what with all its references to rain and wind," Sir Harry cheerfully observed as he settled across from Cecilia and Lady Meriton in the commodious carriage he'd borrowed for the evening from one of his many friends. He took his beaver hat from his head and brushed the raindrops from its flat brim before resettling it rakishly on his red-gold locks. "So what's that they say? About April showers and May flowers? Never could remember poetry. Anyway, shouldn't complain, I'll warrant."
Cecilia smiled slightly. "I'll grant you that; however, I find such weather to be harmful to my health. Brings on colds and chills, you know, and sometimes the most putrid sore throats."
"Oh, please, Cecilia, don't go borrowing trouble," said Lady Meriton.
"No, I shall try not to, only I have felt so remarkably well the past few weeks, I cannot help but be wary."
"I would think there shouldn't be any harm in that. Makes you careful, that's all," offered Elsdon.
"Why, thank you, Sir Harry. That's kind of you to say, and such is my thought as well."
"Stands to reason. I daresay you're like one of those hothouse flowers, the kind that takes special handling. I understand the result to be well worth the effort."
