Cecilia could not help but pink with pleasure, even though she was certain his words were contrived for just that effect. She believed Randolph's friends were making a play for her attentions, in all probability to satisfy a wager. Nonetheless, she was woman enough that she couldn't help but be pleased. Sir Harry was a genial gentleman with a quick wit and ready smile. Doubtlessly excellent traits for a gamester.
She tittered and coyly looked aside. "La, sir, I shall make certain I do not take your words seriously. They are too nicely done, by half."
"It is easy when the subject is worthy."
"I believe I shall count myself fortunate that we have arrived at our destination, and I do not need to respond to that," she said, laughing warmly.
"I am desolate. And here I thought to dazzle you with honeyed words. What is a courting gentleman to do?" he asked, swinging out of the carriage and turning to offer her, then Lady Meriton, his hand.
Cecilia chose not to respond to his outrageous sallies for fear he would cause more blushes to rise in her cheeks. Of all of Randolph's friends, he was the easiest to be with. That gave her a thought
"Do you know if my brother plans to attend this party?"
"Don't believe he does. Spoke of having an intimate little supper with a friend."
"Ah, Miss Angel Swafford by any chance?"
His rusty-colored eyebrows rose. "Now, how would you know that name?"
She laughed. "The evening of the opera, a very inebriated young man mistook me for her rival and thought to steal me away from Randolph by informing me of Miss Swafford's existence."
"Nutley," he murmured, nodding. "And that's how you came to be in the company of Branstoke?"
"He, ah, relieved me of Mr. Nutley's presence," she explained, handing her cloak to a footman.
He frowned, thrusting out his lower lip. "Yes, well, you shouldn't have been left alone. I told Randy so, too. No malice in him, but sometimes quite a knuckleheaded fellow. Oh, excuse me, I didn't mean to disparage your brother like that. Not done. Bad Ton,y'know."
"Please, do not apologize. I well know my brother."
"Good, then for the nonce:Illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory."
“Yes, Mrs. Malaprop," she said, laughing.
Still smiling, she went through the receiving line with Lady Meriton, greeting the Waymonds. Afterward, while her aunt went off with her packet of papers and scissors, Cecilia found herself solicited for dances by numerous gentlemen. Lord Havelock surprised her by asking for the waltz. Without knowing quite how it happened, she found herself enjoying the ball. That is until a twinge of uneasiness trickled down her spine. Instinctively she turned to see Branstoke regarding her through his raised quizzing glass. Seeing he had her attention, he came forward.
Silently, Cecilia ground her teeth in vexation. Branstoke was one gentleman she was not happy to see or speak with. He upset her equilibrium far too readily and made her feel the stuttering schoolgirl.
"Have you had an opportunity to speak with Mr. Thornbridge?" he asked.
"No, I have not. Though I suppose you have. No doubt you have discovered everything and are here to tease me with it."
He looked at her in surprise. "On the contrary. After your words of yesterday, I made certain I did not interfere. I would have thought you would have gone immediately to Dr. Heighton's."
"I would have," she grudgingly conceded, "however, Dr. Heighton would not allow me to visit. He claims his residence is not a place for women. He suggested I visit Mr. Thornbridge in the country at his father's home."
Branstoke frowned. "Odd. I had not received that impression from Dr. Heighton. Well, are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Going to visit Mr. Thornbridge in the country?"
She flushed. "I would, but I must admit I do not know where his people come from."
"Ah—" said Branstoke, his face clearing and a slight smile turning up the corners of his lips.
Cecilia groaned. "Do not tell me. You know where he comes from."
He shrugged in apology. “Only by mere happenstance,” he said.
