Tonight, she wore a dress made of scarlet chiffon, partially draped with expensive silver lace. The bodice was cut daringly low, and the skirt flowed about her legs in a most tantalizing way. She wore her amber tresses up, pinned withher ownbarrette, filigreed silver entwined around multiple rubies. And, for the record, this barrette cost considerably more than the diamonds her slithering husband had purchased for his mistress.
Cecily looked far better than she ever had as a debutante. Sophia, Emily, and Rhoda bemoaned the fact that Society allowed her to dress freely while they were still forced to wear the pastels and whites their mothers insisted upon. Cecily subdued their complaints by offering to exchange places with any one of them, at any time, happily.
A sobering thought, indeed.
For Cecily was only grudgingly received due to her title and her fortune — now her husband’s. But she would not hide away while Lord Kensington cut a wide swath through town. She would not allow him to pretend, now that he’d laid claim to her dowry, that she no longer existed. She was not a little girl nor a simpering wife. She was a woman of means. She was a countess.
Her confidence wavered, however, when she glanced up and spied Flavion approaching with the man who certainly must be his cousin. Seeing them together, Cecily was jolted by both the similarities of the two men as well as their differences. She shivered inwardly and lifted her chin a notch. The effects of the champagne dulled some of the hurt that persisted despite her anger.
Lord Kensington tugged at his cravat before speaking. “Cecily, may I have the privilege of presenting my cousin, Mr. Stephen Nottingham? Stephen, this is Cecily… er, Lady Kensington.” His discomfort was unusual for him. What was he up to?
Wary of her husband’s changed demeanor, Cecily did not offer Mr. Nottingham her hand. Instead, she kept both occupied by cradling her champagne glass. She trusted neither of them. Flavion smiled, masterfully summoning the device he used only when convenient. Mr. Nottingham appraised her thoroughly, as though he could know her deepest secrets by a thorough examination of her appearance.
She boldly dared to make her own assessment.
This man’s eyes were lighter than Flavion’s, or perhaps they only appeared that way because his skin was darker. And his hair wasn’t really blond at all, rather different shades of light brown. He carried an intensity about him which Flave lacked, making him appear older than her husband. Tiny lines creased the outer edges of his eyes, and his evening dress was not nearly as elegant as Flave’s. Whereas Flave appeared to be angelic, this man seemed… rather earthly.
“Mr. Nottingham,” she replied, trying to sound haughty and sophisticated. As she tipped her head forward in acknowledgement, she wondered if Flave’s cousin had participated in the plan to secure her dowry. Most likely, he’d constructed the plot himself. She knew the cousin was, in fact, older by a few years. She would not be surprised if he’d masterminded the entire charade. He was a Nottingham, after all, and no doubt would wish to poach on some of her exorbitant dowry for himself.
Except she remembered hearing Flavion complain that his cousin had been out of the country for the past several years with a shocking absence of correspondence. Flavion had even wondered once to her if his cousin yet lived.
So why show up now? Had he become aware of Flavion’s windfall and come to implore him for funds? He didn’t look the type, but then Flave hadn’t appeared to her to be an opportunist either.
None of that mattered. He was Flave’srelative, and thereby, not to be trusted. “The long-lostMr. Nottingham. Have you just recently arrived back in England?” she asked, wanting to satisfy her curiosity.
“Call me Stephen,” he said, barely tilting up the corners of his mouth. One could not quite deem the expression a smile. “We are cousins, now, after all. And yes, I arrived home today.”
Feeling an inexplicable need for reinforcements, Cecily reached behind her and pulled Sophia away from her conversation with Emily and a few of the other wallflowers. “And this is my good friend, Miss Sophia Babineaux. Sophia, meet Mr. Nottingham,Cousin Stephen,” she said mockingly. “He’s just arrived back in England.”
Mr. Nottingham bowed in Sophia’s direction and nudged his cousin.
Surprised for just a moment, Flave faltered and then moved closer to Cecily. He attempted to place her hand on his arm, but she would have nothing of it. Emboldened by the champagne, she brushed his hand away. Seeing him scowl, satisfied that cold place which had formed inside of her.
He recovered quickly, however. “Stephen will, of course, be staying at Nottinghouse with us, my dear, while in London,” he informed her as though she were a child. And then again turning toward his cousin, asked, “How longdoyou plan on staying, Stephen? Indefinitely, I hope.”
Flave was notin favor with his wife, even a fool could see it. She spurned his touch and bristled at his words. Yes, Lady Kensington hated her new husband.
And, in all honesty, Stephen could not blame her. In order to revile her husband now, she must have loved him once…
Flave had been heartless. Nobody deserved to be used and discarded as his cousin had done with this young woman. The entire situation was disturbing. If only he’d arrived back in England one month earlier, Stephen could have stopped Flavion from making such a stupid error of judgment — or several of them. He needed to get Flave out of this pickle.
He turned to his cousin’s wife and bowed. He would bestow respect, as a countess was due. “My lady, I hope it is not an imposition?”
Although her face was young and innocent, a hard glint in her eyes warned him to proceed cautiously. It reminded him of a wounded tiger he’d come across several years ago while in India — and nearly not lived to tell the tale. Her gaze flickered over him. Stephen could see that she didn’t trust him. She must presume that, as a Nottingham, he’d been in on Flavion’s betrayal.
An arctic smile formed on her lips. “It’s Flavion’s house. Why should I mind? If my weasel of a husband wants you to stay, I expect you can stay. I’m afraid you’ll simply have to ignore all of the cooing and coddling we engage in. We are newly married, you see, and our love cannot help but overflow onto those around us.”
At this, Stephen couldn’t help but grin. Flavion was an idiot. He’d married an attractive and wealthy woman and then created a hornet’s nest for himself. Stephen hoped Miss Daphne Cunnington was worth it.
It was not unheard of for a ranking gentleman of thetonto marry beneath himself for money these days. And many of them discreetly engaged in affairs despite their married state.
But they did it quietly, slowly.
Not Flave. No, Flave had taken the lady’s money, her dreams and her virginity and then kicked her in the teeth. Stephen empathized with Lady Kensington. “I appreciate your hospitality,my lady. And I believe the, er, weasel, would be happy for my company.”
“I’mrighthere,” Flave interjected.
Miss Sophia Babineaux giggled quietly into her hand. At least the lady had a friend.
