“Perhaps there will be indoor entertainments instead.”
“Indoor entertainments do not permit private conversation.” Another sigh. “I suppose I must endure cards. I detest cards.”
“You might read.”
Georgiana looked at her as though she had suggested coal-scuttling. “Read? At a house party? What an extraordinary idea.”
“Forgive me. I was mistaken.”
Her cousin narrowed her eyes. “You are in a strange humour this morning. Almost cheerful. It is unlike you.”
“I slept well.”
“Did you?” Georgiana studied her a moment longer, then turned to more important matters. “The blue gown—or the yellow? No, the blue. No—”
“The blue,” Cecilia said gently. “It suits you best.”
“The blue, then. And the pearls.”
Cecilia dressed her, arranged her hair, ensured perfection in every detail. She performed her role as she always had—calm, competent, invisible.
But part of her mind was elsewhere.
In the library.
Stop,she told herself.Attend to your duties. Forget him.
She could not quite manage it. Could not stop thinking about grey eyes and unexpected questions and a name whispered into darkness.
“There,” she said, stepping back. “You look lovely.”
“I do,” Georgiana said, pleased. “You may go, Cecilia. I can manage from here.”
Dismissed. As always.
And yet, this morning, the dismissal felt like freedom.
She had, perhaps, an hour before anyone would think to look for her. An hour in which she might move unseen through the great house, expected nowhere, required by no one.
An hour in which she might—if she allowed herself such folly—return a book.
She retrieved the volume from its hiding place beneath the mattress and held it for a moment against her breast, as though it were something that might steady her. She drew a slow breath.
Then she left the room.
Her steps carried her along the quiet passageways toward the library, her heart beating too fast, her thoughts a careful tangle of hope and fear. She knew precisely how imprudent this was—how little she could afford discovery, how much she might lose.
She went anyway.
And, for once, she refused to think of consequence.
***
The library was quiet when she arrived.
Morning light filtered through the tall windows, softened by the clouds outside, casting the room in shades of grey and gold. The fire had not yet been lit; the air held the chill of a space that had been empty overnight.
For a moment, Cecilia thought she had arrived first. Her heart sank with a disappointment she should not have felt.
