Surrender Your Grace (2 page)

Cici gasped, “No! That’s horrifying. What is she doing here mingling with good people if she is suspected of… murder?” She lowered her voice and whispered behind her fan at the end. She didn’t want to be overheard spreading such malicious gossip.

“No proof I suspect. And he was ancient after all. But you’d think it’d be obvious that she did it. She manipulated the man into marriage for his fortune. She was a nobody before the marriage, the daughter of a shipbuilder, so I hear. Her father had lofty goals of landing her a nobleman and was quite successful as you can see.” They both looked on as Andrew was directing the woman toward a nearby door and they disappeared.

“She seems overly familiar with your brother.”

“Well, there have been rumors…”

“Tell me.”

“It’s rumored that she was his paramour, but that Andrew broke it off a few weeks ago. It is widely known that my brother is looking to settle down and start his family. She of course would not be an appropriate wife for him at all.”

“Because she is older than him…”

“Cici, really, Andrew is Sommerville’s heir. He is not going to marry a well-used, manipulative shipbuilder’s daughter.”

“Maggie dear, you always have the very best gossip.”

“Why thank you, Cici. I’ll take that as a compliment.” They both giggled just as the sound of the musicians tuning up floated up over the crowded ball room and heralded the beginning of the dancing. For the next hour, the room was filled with swirling colors as the well-dressed ladies of the Ton were swirled and twirled, waltzed and promenaded around the dance floor.

Maggie and Cici found themselves together again while trying to catch their breath before the next set of dances began. They stood once again watching the guests and sharing gossip when Cici complained. “Oh drat, I see Elizabeth trying to get my attention. She has bamboozled me into another one of her hare-brained schemes. Hopefully, this one won’t be a complete fiasco like so many others. Will you excuse me? And tell Lord, uh…” She forgot the name of the gentleman that had just hurried off to get her a glass of lemonade. Scanning her dance card she found his name. “Tell Lord Jamison that I got called away by family. I will see you later this evening and give you all the details.”

“Of course dear Cici, meanwhile I’ll try to arrange for an introduction later.”

Cici nodded as she headed off to join her sister.

“Cecilia Richards, I have been summoning you forever. The Viscount has asked that I tour the gardens with him so he can speak privately with me. I need you with me sister, more now than ever. I can count on you for this I’m certain.”

“Surely, sister, but I am hardly a proper chaperone. Let me find Mother.”

“No, I have already seen to that,” Elizabeth exclaimed impatiently. “She awaits us at the garden door.”

“Let me fetch a glass of lemonade first, I am quite parched.”

“There’s no time. Why must you be such a trial? Here, take mine. I haven’t even touched it.”

Cici accepted the cool drink and puzzled at Elizabeth’s suddenly pleased expression. Elizabeth watched her finish the tart beverage, then grabbed the empty cup abruptly from her hand and set it on a nearby table. Grabbing her hand petulantly, she dragged her along behind her like an errant child. “If you are done dawdling, let’s go then.”

Cici and Elizabeth exited the warm ballroom into the cool garden where the Viscount waited alone. For early March it was unseasonably warm, but there was still a nip in the air. Elizabeth coolly greeted the man but Cici was tongue-tied as she gazed up in awe at the Adonis standing tall and beautiful before her. He was well over six feet tall and she had to lift her chin sharply to look into his handsome face. He had startlingly deep blue eyes and thick, wavy, dark blonde hair which he wore slightly longer than fashionable, brushed straight back off his forehead. He obviously ignored the current trend for facial hair and was clean shaven, revealing an appealing dimple in his chin.

Cici was startled from her dreamlike assessment of the man by the sharp swat of a fan to her forearm. Elizabeth glared at her for her inattention stating, “His Lordship asked you a question, Cici.”

“I beg your pardon, My Lord. My mind had wandered.”

“Think nothing of it Lady Richards. I just asked if you had toured the Marquess’ gardens before. They are quite impressive.” He shot Cici an amused look. This younger Edward’s girl was a beauty, although not of the classical style of her sister. Her vivid features and nicely rounded figure warranted a second glance. But, he had already committed his attentions to the elder sister so he turned and took Elizabeth’s arm. They walked a few steps on the walking stones to the edge of the sculpted gardens. Lanterns illuminated the triangular flower beds and stone walkways. At the far end of the garden a fully lit pavilion could be seen, tempting strollers to sit or partake of the extraordinary natural beauty that surrounded them.

“I haven’t had the pleasure, My Lord but I can tell already that they are quite magnificent”

“Shall we stroll then?” he asked as Elizabeth instantly nodded her agreement while Cici immediately expressed her concern.

“Oh, well… perhaps we should wait for mama. She was meeting us here to chaperone, isn’t that right sister?”

“Yes, I wonder what is keeping her.” Elizabeth appeared to be scanning the garden for her missing parent. “She was heading this way before I went to find you, sister. She may have wandered to the pavilion. Shall we check, My Lord?”

“As you wish, My Lady. How could I deny two such beautiful ladies the pleasure of a moonlit stroll tonight?” He then stepped onto the garden path with Elizabeth in tow, missing the infuriated glare that was her response to his comment. Cici noticed and despite her nervousness, stifled a giggle. The Viscount would have to learn quickly that Elizabeth didn’t like to be compared or grouped with anyone when it came to compliments. As the couple moved off into the garden, Cici had no choice but to follow closely behind.

After a short stroll they found the pavilion calm and inviting, but empty. Cici was beginning to feel excessively warm despite the coolness of the evening. She opened her fan and began to fan herself furiously. “Sister, I am not feeling at all well. I think I need to sit down.” She staggered to a nearby bench but her knees gave way before she reached it. The Viscount became alarmed when he turned to see the little redhead collapse on the grass. Rushing to her aid he quickly swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bench allowing her to rest weakly on its surface.

An unusually attentive Elizabeth cooed in concern as Cici continued to suffer from an unknown but rapidly intensifying illness. She felt her lips begin to tingle and she was having a bit of trouble catching her breath. Elizabeth took note of this immediately and expressed her concern. “She can’t breathe, My Lord. I’ll go get mama. She always keeps salts in her reticule.” Before Lord Arrandale could utter another word she was off through the garden. Andrew watched in concern as a groggy and flustered Cecelia struggled to sit up from the concrete bench. He frowned down at her as he laid a hand against her heated brow. This didn’t look like a typical female swoon from a too tight corset.

Cici muttered disjointedly. She felt hot and her skin was literally crawling with sensation. She felt like bugs were creeping all over her especially in her hair and began to panic. “Get them off. I can’t bear it.” Her hands rose to her elaborately styled hair and she began pulling at it, destroying her artful coiffure in her distress. Soon she had many of the pins out and her long, red mane fell in a disheveled mess about her shoulders.

“What is going on here?” Lord Benton demanded in an affronted voice. He stood in the garden pathway flanked by his wife, Marquess Berkeley and his Marchioness. Lady Benton rushed to her daughter’s side.

“She felt faint so I assisted while Lady Elizabeth went for help.” Andrew said this through gritted teeth. Interestingly, Elizabeth Richards was nowhere to be found. He was beginning to suspect something was afoot here.

“What were you doing alone out here with my daughters? It is most unseemly.”

“Lady Elizabeth assured me your wife was meeting us.”

“No such arrangements were made by me, Charles.” She looked to her husband. Cici continued to mumble incoherently as she pulled at her hair and gown. “We must get her somewhere private and summon a physician, husband. One of you gentlemen will need to carry her.”

The Marquess who was past sixty, deferred to her father but Lord Benton shook his head regretfully, “Arrandale, you will have to do it. A back injury prevents me...”

“Certainly,” he interrupted and once again scooped up a pale and shaking Cecilia Richards in his arms. Turning he addressed his host, “If you will lead the way, My Lord?”

The only way back to the house was through the garden and unfortunately, to get to the salon or other private room within the manor meant a trip through the crowded ballroom. As they passed through the crush of guests they were surrounded by whispers, murmurs of concern, and a few gasps of outrage. The sight of Lady Cecilia Richards, fidgeting restlessly as the Viscount carried her was startling. Seeing her in a mussed gown with her long hair loose and falling in a riot of messy curls over the Viscount’s arm was titillating.

The sound of gossip rose steadily from the attendees who were already busy speculating about this latest
on dit
. The Viscount, realizing the scene they created, fought to maintain a hold on his wriggling charge who continued to insist there were bugs crawling on her skin as she slapped at the invisible creatures. He quickly followed the Marquess, turning her face into his shoulder in an attempt to minimize any future embarrassment for the young woman and her family who followed in close pursuit. As they crossed the room, the noise from the fascinated guests rippled outward like waves in a pool as the gossip spread. Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew spotted Elizabeth Richards watching with an oddly self-satisfied smile on her face. Good Lord, was she the one who had called their hosts and her parents to the garden? If so, why hadn’t she remained out of concern for her ill sister? An ominous chill ran down his spine as he considered the exceptionally odd situation.

Chapter Three

C
ici cautiously entered her father’s study and obediently sat in the chair he indicated. She noted it was out of position and appeared to be strategically placed between her mother’s chair and the side of his desk. A feeling of dread swept over her as she looked at the group assembled. Both her parents were present wearing equally somber expressions. Her mother had been crying and appeared agitated, still sniffling occasionally and alternating between dabbing at her eyes with her lace handkerchief and vigorously working her fan.

Looking at the occupant of the wing-backed chair that sat in front of her father’s massive desk, Cici was surprised to see the Duke of Sommerville. A feeling of dread swept over her as she looked at her friend Maggie’s older brother. She now realized he was also the brother to the Viscount who had helped her last night. What in the world was going on?

She studied His Grace as discreetly as possible. He appeared to be in his early thirties and didn’t resemble Lord Arrandale or Maggie at all. He had dark hair which was prematurely graying at the temples. Although seated, she could tell he was of smaller stature than the Viscount, but carried himself with the air of authority his station demanded. His gaze rose to her and she instantly saw the resemblance. He had the same deep blue eyes as his brother and those eyes were currently searing into her. She felt his gaze like a physical force sweeping over; evaluating and assessing before dismissing her as if unimpressed with what he saw. Cici couldn’t help but flush with mortification. It was rare to be in a Duke’s presence and for him to find her lacking, well it was simply beyond the pale.

He then spoke over his shoulder to another man whose presence she had overlooked. “Andrew, quit looming over us and come sit. I’d like to get these arrangements completed as I have several other appointments this afternoon.”

It was then she saw Andrew, Viscount Arrandale. He had been standing by the fireplace and as he moved stiffly across the room, she could tell this was a very angry gentleman. He didn’t look at anyone but the Duke although his words were obviously directed toward the room’s other occupants. “Forgive me if I stand, Your Grace. This way I may bend over more easily as I prepare to be rogered up the-“

“Andrew!” The Duke barked the word, effectively stifling his brother and stopping him before the vulgar comment passed his lips. Her mother gasped and fanned herself furiously as her father leapt to his feet in outrage. His Grace - unfazed by his brother’s behavior - remained calm. “Please forgive my brother, ladies. He tends to get a little uncivilized when he feels trapped. And considering the situation, I can hardly blame him.”

Offended, Cici rose to her feet. She felt like she was being accused of something and wasn’t really sure why. “What is going on here? Are you accusing me of some kind of trickery, Your Grace?”

“You have to admit, you look remarkably recovered from last night’s illness, my dear.” The Dukes voice oozed with derision.

Cici’s mother spoke up then. “My daughter suffers from a sensitivity, Your Grace. I have seen it twice before and the signs are always the same as she experienced last night. My Lord, please tell them there was no underhandedness afoot.” She implored her husband to support her claim. “Cecilia is innocent!”

“Your Grace, Viscount Arrandale, I can assure you that my wife speaks the truth. As a child, Cecilia had serious reactions like this to a breathing medicinal. She hasn’t had an attack of this sort in years. We have questioned Cecilia about this and she does not know how she would have come in contact with it last evening. Our family physician examined her and agreed it was the same malady as in the past. I can call him in to substantiate the veracity of our daughter’s claim if I must.”