One Whisper Away (6 page)

So did his overwhelming masculinity. The width of his shoulders was daunting; and even seated and seemingly relaxed he gave the impression of power. . . and maybe even danger.

He went on in a conversational tone as if they were discussing the weather. “My personal views on the attitudes of the English nobility aside, is there something I can do to repair the damage? You know better than I do, I’m sure.”

To her surprise, he sounded sincere, though she would have sworn he was the kind of man who cared very little for convention.

At last she found her voice. “It
has
gotten to be ridiculous.”

“Tell him not coming over and sitting next to you might help.” Eleanor, who had been listening unabashedly to every word, hissed furiously in her ear. “People are staring again.”

Cecily did her best to ignore her sister, but no doubt she was right. Unfortunately Lord Augustine proved to have extremely good hearing. He said mildly, “Your sister is probably correct, but I am not ravishing you on the floor in public. We are just having a conversation. How can there be any cause for alarm in that?”

“People will think you are paying attention to me,” she explained, wondering if the room was really overheated or if his proximity was the problem.

“I certainly hope I am as we are currently speaking to each other.”

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Lady Cecily.” The interruption was softened by a humorous quirk of his arched dark brows. “They will think I have a romantic interest.”

She almost said it out loud, partially because of the way he was looking at her, but maybe more because of how
she
was looking at
him
.

To her dismay the music was starting, which meant he had to leave now or it would be rude of him to get up and change seats during the performance. Not that she was positive it would deter him, but she sensed his disregard for society was based more on a lack of affectation than a lack of manners.

The soft sound of the violin began, the strains floating out and the murmured conversation fading.

Then he did it again. He leaned so close she could feel the warm whisper of his breath on her temple and he said so only she could hear, “You look very beautiful tonight, and while I admire that particular shade of rose on you, I am certain you would look even better unadorned. Can we continue this discussion later?”

 

So much for good intentions.

He entirely blamed the duke’s beguiling daughter. Jonathan rose and went back to join his two sisters. Both Carole and Betsy, pretty and dressed in the new gowns he’d paid a fortune to the fashionable modiste to make up quickly for this event because Lillian had insisted that both their wardrobes were outdated and too girlish, cast him curious glances.

Maybe it wasn’t entirely correct that what had just happened was Lady Cecily’s fault. He shouldn’t have confessed he was sitting next to her imagining her naked. Those sorts of fantasies were best left unsaid, but truthfully the sensual beauty of her bared shoulders and the hint of the upper swell of her luscious breasts distracted him from his original purpose, which had been to correct his earlier offense.

And then he had just compounded the problem.

If she hadn’t blushed so becomingly earlier, maybe he would have been more circumspect.

Maybe.

He wasn’t used to being less than himself at any time. The trouble was, as a man raised between two cultures, he just didn’t worry about conformity because he didn’t fit precisely into any part of his heritage.

Or that was
part
of the trouble. The other part was Lady Cecily’s incomparable allure. He wasn’t used to being so drawn to a female. Yes, he’d known many beautiful women—enjoyed them sexually on a mutually casual basis—but as James had pointed out, she wasn’t available.

He was a warrior and the duke’s daughter was a most delectable prize . . . except he was sitting in a very formal drawing room in one of the most civilized cities in the world and the object of all eyes.

Damn
.

The only redeeming part of it all was that the music was actually performed with a modicum of talent, the musicians having been brought in from Vienna, and he enjoyed the performance enormously compared to the usual amateur recitals he’d been subjected to since his arrival in England.

Did the winsome Miss Francis play? he wondered, acutely aware of her across the room. Her head was slightly bent, her profile delicate, the languid wave of her fan sensual and tantalizing, and though he did his best to keep his attention on the string quartet, her presence was very distracting.

She hadn’t answered his question.

What he couldn’t precisely explain was how he needed to sweep the potential of any scandal under the proverbial rug as swiftly as possible for the sake of his sisters and daughter, or how anxious he was to return to his native country.

He hadn’t told Lillian, Carole, or Betsy about his plans either. There was a certain legacy of guilt inherited with the title, for while he’d known his sisters existed, he really hadn’t imagined having an actual relationship with any of them except of the most perfunctory kind. His father’s visits to America had been frequent enough that they’d known each other well, and he had Adela to fill his life.

When the music was over, the general exodus of murmured polite greetings and farewells done, he dutifully delivered his sisters back to the town house in Mayfair. Lillian had declined to go out. Which, he was beginning to realize, was normal behavior for her. After briefly checking in on Addie, who was sleeping peacefully at this late hour, her nursemaid in the adjoining room, he headed for the club his cousin frequented—his own membership an inheritance from his father. Usually he found the smoky interior oppressive and the company pompous, but he’d received a note that James was back in town after a week’s absence on business and hoped to catch him.

London society was so predictable, he thought as he walked in the door and was greeted by the steward. The men with their clubs, the women with their afternoon teas . . .

James was sitting at a table by himself, the newspaper neatly folded next to his glass of whiskey, and a quick grin lit his face as Jonathan approached. “How was the musicale?”

“Don’t look so smug. It was not as insufferable as some,” Jonathan said with a grimace, dropping into the opposite chair in a comfortable sprawl and nodding at the nearby waiter. “Though I do have to say playing duenna to young ladies is hardly my forte. Speaking of which, what happened with Lillian?”

James chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s your mixed blood or that you are an American, but you have a habit of being disconcertingly direct. Do you know that?”

“I believe in stating what is on my mind.” Jonathan ordered a brandy and settled lower in his chair. “Now, tell me about Lillian. All she will say is she is ruined and someone named Lord Sebring is responsible. At that point I was told to mind my own business in the clearest way possible, but may I evoke the argument that this
is
my business by default? Besides, if all of society knows, why is it I can’t be privy to the same information?”

James considered him from across the table, his gaze somewhat wary. “I didn’t mention it before because though she can be prickly, I am fond of Lily. I thought it better if the two of you got to know each other a little before any judgment was made.”

“I’m not judging her, James. I’m no choirboy, as everyone is aware,” Jonathan muttered in irritation. “I just need to know what happened.”

An eruption of boisterous laughter from a nearby table prevented his cousin from answering right away, and in truth James looked reluctant anyway. In the subdued light his face was somber. “Actually, Jon, I am not sure exactly what happened either. I do know Sebring convinced her to elope four years ago, but in the end the marriage never happened. They made it halfway to Scotland and then came back to London, but not before staying in the same room overnight at some tawdry village inn. Had she not made such a successful debut that season, she might have escaped . . . well, not unscathed, but maybe with a good deal less notoriety. Sebring was quite the catch and it was immediately clear he was interested in her. There were enough jealous young ladies and their even more vindictive mamas that she was crucified socially over that night at the inn and their failed engagement. When the Incomparable of the season falls from grace, it is not an easy landing. She was torn apart in a very public manner. In my opinion she has never recovered from it and I am not sure I can blame her for being reclusive.”

His brandy arrived and Jonathan took a small sip, the smoothness and fire easing down his throat. It bothered him to think Lily had suffered in such a manner. “Did she love him? Does she still?”

His cousin choked on a sip of whiskey, coughed, and then cleared his throat. “Love?
You
are asking about love?”

“I have a child. I understand the concept. You also know how fond I was of my father.”

“We aren’t talking at all about the same thing. I didn’t realize you had a romantic soul, Jon.”

Was he a romantic? Jonathan wasn’t sure the word applied, but then again, he wasn’t sure it
didn’t
either. His possible romantic interest in the lovely Cecily was based on a more primitive inspiration: lust. Two brief encounters could not inspire a deeper emotion, but they certainly could cause sexual attraction. “Just answer the question, please.”

“How would I know?” James retorted with asperity. “We’re cousins, not confidants. Lily is the least likely person I know to reveal her personal thoughts. To me or to anyone else.”

Jon smiled ruefully, sinking down a little more in his chair. “There you are wrong. She can be quite forthcoming. Case in point, my behavior has not met with her approval. I fear I didn’t help it this evening either. The Duke of Eddington’s daughter was at the performance. My attempt at an apology for the other evening and the resulting gossip wasn’t all that successful. I’m going to guess just the two of us speaking tonight will raise more eyebrows.”

“I am sure you are correct there.” James looked amused and interested. “What did she say?”

“The beauteous Lady Cecily? She admitted the situation surrounding our brief first meeting is garnering a ridiculous amount of attention. I couldn’t agree more.”

“You are in accord? I see. Do I sense a covetous tone to your voice?”

Was
covetous
the right word? She intrigued him, and it was unexpected because he hadn’t really ever imagined himself drawn to a haughty pale English beauty. But lust was an elemental emotion and it would pass. “She isn’t an American,” he said simply.

“Nor am I.” James refuted the statement with inarguable logic. “Or Lily, or your other two sisters. Nor was your father. You are not
in
America. I think you need to accept that.”

“I won’t be in England long.” His tone was just short of curt.

“Won’t you?” James ran a finger around the rim of his glass, his expression thoughtful. “I admit I wondered how long you’d tolerate the strictures of the
haut ton
, but quite frankly, I also don’t see how you can abandon your responsibilities anytime soon.”

“I have no intention of abandoning anything. I just want to see it all settled quickly. I want to return myself and my daughter to our lives. To facilitate that process, I need make sure Lily is settled. What of Sebring? What happened to him?”

His cousin shrugged. “He married another. She’s not half the beauty Lily is, but her father has powerful ties in Parliament and Sebring is unabashedly ambitious. It is common knowledge that it was a practical match based on gain on both their sides. His wife wanted a title.”

The brandy in his glass was fragrant as he idly swirled the beverage. Though he didn’t know Lily well, Jonathan found he was incensed on his sister’s behalf. “The bastard destroyed her life
and
broke her heart?”

“You would have to ask her about the latter,” James replied. “But, yes, the whole affair left her reputation in tatters.”

“Or better yet,” Jonathan said in a lethal voice, “I could ask him.”

“With half of London proper circulating stories of your supposed bloodthirsty background, I think you should avoid both the innocent daughters of dukes and blackguard viscounts, Jon.” James rubbed his forehead. “It will only resurrect what happened if you confront Sebring. Your father chose to leave it alone four years ago. Maybe you should follow his lead.”

That was curious of itself. From what Jon knew of his father he would never have let one of his children be humiliated and the injury go unaddressed.

“Maybe,” he said neutrally, but he wasn’t sure he agreed.

There was more to the story.

“W
hen are you going to tell me?”

Cecily knew her sister wasn’t going to just let it go, and she sighed, tying the sash of her dressing gown. Eleanor sat on the bed, her nightdress buttoned to her throat, her hands folded primly in her lap, her gaze inquiring.

Sharply inquiring.

That was Eleanor. Always straight to the point. But it wasn’t as though Cecily was absolutely certain just what question was being asked. “About?” she asked cautiously, padding across the room to take a chair by the fireplace. The hope of a cozy read before bed seemed about to be dashed.

“Augustine.”

Relief washed over her in a wave. Cecily was so happy they weren’t discussing Lord Drury that she didn’t even mind the intrusion ruining her nightly ritual. Usually she read at least a chapter each evening, and if it was a rainy day and she could indulge her passion in the library for hours, that was better yet. She knew she was a bit of a bluestocking, but so be it. She also liked to study the stars and her father’s astrological maps, and as unfeminine as it might be, Eleanor had persuaded him to allow their brother’s tutor to teach them both Latin and Greek.