“Miss Cunnington, this is a pleasant surprise.” Cecily turned to her husband’s mistress with a cool smile. Her expression didn’t feel as forced as it might have a few days prior. Cecily was feeling, in fact, quite magnanimously toward Miss Cunnington.
For a few weeks following her wedding, Cecily had hoped that Flavion would recant his words from their wedding night. She had wished it was all a grand mistake, and they could begin anew. With those thoughts in mind, she had resented Miss Cunnington enormously.
But a shift had since occurred inside of her.
With a surprising jolt, she realized that she no longer pined for her husband. Her love for Flavion had been nothing more than an illusion.
His mistress could have him.
Right now, Miss Cunnington looked less than her normally confident and catty self. “Might I have a word with you… Miss Findlay?” she said, quite purposefullyforgettingthat Cecily was no longer a mere miss.
Miss Cunnington was quite welcome to have Flavion, but Cecily was done being disrespected. With a lift of her chin, she sent the other woman as icy of a stare as she could muster. Emily, Rhoda, and Sophia all glared at her with equal disdain. Peaches barked sharply.
“Pardon me?” Cecily said coldly and then raised one eyebrow and glanced toward Salaam.
“I mean Lady Kensington.” Her eyes shifted anxiously toward Salaam as well and then back. “Could I persuade you to walk a quick turn with me? I only require a moment of your time.”
Cecily was more curious than anything else. What would this woman possibly have to say to her? “Very well.” She looked over at her friends. “Will you ladies mind if I excuse myself for a moment?”
Emily answered for all of them. “Not at all,my lady,” she said with barely a hint of the curiosity that Cecily knew she suppressed.
Salaam went to fall in line behind her and Miss Cunnington, but with a gesture of her hand, Cecily indicated for him to stay back. She would hear what Miss Cunnington, had to say on this fine afternoon.
And so, Cecily, clasping a parasol in one hand and her reticule in the other, turned and strolled casually toward the bank of the Serpentine. Miss Cunnington moved quickly to catch up with her. Once Cecily arrived at the water’s edge, she stopped and gave the other woman her full attention.
Miss Cunnington fidgeted with her gloves, and her brow furrowed deeply. If she made this expression often, Cecily thought observantly, the pretty young miss would have wrinkles to show for it before turning thirty. Finally, Miss Cunnington spoke.
“He is mine. He has always been mine, and he will be mine forever.” The words came out in a rush. “He doesn’t want you. You can try to keep him at home in your bed but I promise you, he’ll never love you.”
“I presume you are referring to my husband,” Cecily said and then waited. Quite often, the best way to procure information from another person was to simply wait patiently. This was an elementary rule of confrontation. She was of a guess that Miss Cunnington would not disappoint.
“Keep your hands off him. Do you understand?”
Good Lord!Cecily wondered at the lady’s impudence. She refused to answer her, however. Instead, she lifted one eyebrow sardonically. She had worked diligently to affect this talent at the age of twelve after seeing one of her father’s business associates utilize such a contrivance quite effectively with an impertinent client.
“You should never have come on the marriage mart. All the money in the world doesn’t a lady make.” Miss Cunnington was beginning to look rather pinched in the face. “You should return to your father’s home. You would do well for yourself to leave London before the Season is over.”
Cecily narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Are you threatening me, Miss Cunnington?” She was not afraid. Even if not for Salaam and Chadwick, Cecily would not be frightened by this little harpy.
Miss Cunnington pulled her shoulders back and looked Cecily directly in the eyes. “Why don’t you consider it a promise? One way or another, you will not be the countess for much longer. Mark my words, Miss Findlay.” And with those words, she sent Cecily one last scathing glance and then pivoted in haste to take her leave.
Unfortunately, the placement of her foot was on a slimy patch of the shore, and before anybody could do anything to stop her, Miss Cunnington slipped and, with arms flailing, went sliding into the water with a significant splash.
Oh, this was delightful! Utterly delightful!
But Cecily only enjoyed it for a moment. Although it was early summer, the lake would be freezing. Stepping forward cautiously, Cecily crept down to the water’s edge and offered help in the form of one end of her parasol. She would assist her husband’s mistress out of the murky soup.
Itwasrather satisfying to behold the dear lady, legs outstretched, unable to regain even an ounce of dignity. Splashes of murky water dappled her hair and face.
Miss Cunnington glared up at Cecily with what could only be thought of as murderous rage. “Are you laughing at me, Cecily Findlay?” she shouted. “How dare you! Why, you’re not fit to polish my shoes!” And then, in anger and frustration, Miss Cunnington grasped the parasol and gave it an extraordinarily powerful tug.
What with Cecily holding tightly to her end of it, she was launched unsuspecting into the lake as well.
Cecily hit the surface, head first.
She had been right. The water was freezing! And in spite of being an excellent swimmer, it took a moment for her to find her bearings as she clutched at the muddied lake bottom. Crawling to her knees, Cecily threw back her head, sputtered and wiped at her eyes.
Had Daphne Cunnington really done that? Hadthat womanactually pulled her into the water? What had Cecily everdone to her?
