Sitting at his uncle’s desk, Stephen’s first task was to arrange for Cecily to have what would essentially amount to a bodyguard. After seeing firsthand the harrowing circumstance she’d found herself in that afternoon, he was not about to let her go another day without full-time protection.
A business associate who had assisted him with delicate matters in the past would be well suited to the task. He had a missive delivered to them that night.
Next, he read through the day’s mail, which included estate reports, invitations, and yet more bills that had accrued before he’d imposed the spending moratorium on the newlywed couple. When he’d dispatched with these, he located some law treatises in the library and did some light reading on the British Parliamentary steps required to obtain a divorce.
Stephen was fairly certain that if Flavion were to petition for a divorce, he’d likely still be received by theton.
Maybe.
Would it be for the best? Didn’t Flavion deserve to experience some repercussions, some uncomfortable consequences for being so heartless? For on more than one occasion, Flavion had acted without thought or consideration for those hurt by him — for those who loved him.
He’d always managed to emerge smelling of roses.
Perhaps Flavion would learn something from this. Perhaps Cecily was right in that he needed some punishment. For God knew, Uncle Leo hadn’t meted any out, and look where that had gotten Flavion.
Satisfied that he’d researched the topic thoroughly, Stephen returned his spectacles to his pocket and rose from the desk. He would do this favor for Cecily. But he would also do it for Flavion. And for himself.
While washing up and changing into his dressing gown, he considered what Flavion’s probable reaction was going to be. Would he hate Stephen? Most likely not. His own relationship with Flave would not be in peril. Since Flavion was not in love with Cecily, Stephen was confident that Flave would eventually forgive him for his part in it all.
Would Flavion become interested in Cecily again?
That was possible. In the past, Flavion had only ever wanted something after he knew Stephen desired it. Hopefully, this would not be the case. For at this point, Cecily did not want for Flavion to want her. At least that was what Stephen thought. He did notthinkshe was in love with him anymore. She was quite adamant about wanting her freedom.
It was also conceivable that Flavion would respond exactly as Cecily hoped.
Flave was a particularly proud man. The publicity of the affair was prone to make him angrier than the affair itself.
And then Stephen considered another possibility. Flavion, being Flavion, might very well be completely apathetic to the entire charade.
Oh damn, the latter scenario was highly likely. He hoped, for Cecily’s sake, that Flave would become mad as hell.
And if that were the case, Flavion would spend thousands of pounds of Stephen’s money on the divorce, Cecily would be shunned by all of Society, and Stephen would be left to clean up the mess. Ah, well, what else did he expect?
With these thoughts plaguing him, he pulled back his shoulders and knocked softly on the door to Cecily’s suite. Hearing nothing, he turned the knob and pushed inward.
Her sitting room was opulently appointed with a velvet chaise lounge, ornate tables, and gilded mirrors. Somehow, he did not think the décor was done with her approval. It was all too… plush… too garish.
He walked over to another door and then again knocked softly.
Still no response.
He pushed this door open slowly and realized he had waited until it was indeed very late before coming upstairs.
He hoped she hadn’t been waiting up for him.
A few lit candles had burned down considerably, and the coals in the hearth glowed hotly from behind a grate.
Cecily was fast asleep, bundled up in a blanket on a large brocaded chair.
Looking at her thoughtfully, Stephen rubbed his chin in contemplation.
She looked all of sixteen. A rope of her amber hair fell softly over her shoulder all the way down to her waist. He wondered if she wore the gown he’d seen her in the other morning. All he could do for now was wonder, however, as she was currently wrapped from head to toe. Stephen knelt beside her and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers.
“My lady… Cecily? It’s me, Stephen.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked at him in confusion for only a moment.
“I thought you’d changed your mind,” she said.
