The Waylaid Heart (17 page)

He slowed as he came even with her, his features twisting into a semblance of a polite smile. He nodded curtly.

Pleased to see he was not completely lost to all niceties of manner, she was nonetheless quick to attribute his startling lack of legendary phlegm to her niece. It was odd, and rather delightfully comical, how Cecilia and Branstoke were suddenly prone to unusual and uncommon behavior. She wondered if either knew how serious was the malady—or if either had yet to properly name it.

As he would pass her, she put out a slender hand to detain him. "Will you not stay for refreshments?"

"No, thank you, Lady Meriton. I fear if I did they would end on my head," he said, glancing toward the closed parlor door.

"You mustn't mind Cecilia when she's in a temper. She gets that way when she feels, well, out of control, I suppose one would say. She prefers to have the management of all things."

"So I am to gather," he drawled.

"I think she feels safer that way," she went on ruminatively, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "So much of her life has been mismanaged by others, you know. When anyone does anything the least bit managing, she flies into a pelter. It is a reflexive action, I suspect."

Branstoke looked at her keenly, dark emotion settling out of his features. "I believe I begin to understand," he said slowly, a slight smile forming on his lips in quite his old manner. "Thank you, Lady Meriton."

She smiled. "You're welcome. And please come again, Sir Branstoke. You are a much more entertaining caller than the others who paraded through this morning and who, it appears, we shall be seeing more of."

He laughed shortly. "Haukstrom's cronies?"

"Dear me, yes. And all anxious to put it to the touch, it would seem. Mr. Rippy fired the first salvo this morning."

"And her response?"

"Can you not guess? No, of course. But she continues to encourage him to call. Truly, it is a comedy of manners to see those gentleman vie for her attention. Of course, they are only after her money; but watching provides sport. My only fear is that in a welter of guilt she will accept one of them. Particularly now, with this Thornbridge matter." She shivered slightly, then pinned Branstoke with a stern eye. "Is Mr. Thornbridge truly to recover?"

"Yes, he will, which is better than perhaps he deserves considering the foolish path he's tread."

"I only pray Cecilia does not stoop to pick up the dropped gauntlet

"You think she would?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"So do I," he agreed heavily.

They looked at each other steadily, a complete, shared understanding between them. "It is a stubborn, self-willed niece you have," Branstoke said, humor once again rippling his smooth voice. "Do not worry, I shall continue to watch out for her, despite her wishes to the contrary." He squeezed her hand in reassurance, then continued down the stairs with a light step.

Lady Meriton watched him leave, a satisfied smile hovering on her lips. When she heard the front door close after him, she roused and turned toward the parlor, wondering if it would prove as easy to lighten Cecilia's disposition. She opened the door quietly, peeking in to gauge her niece's attitude. Cecilia was standing by the window looking out into the street below.

"Yes, he finally left," she said wryly.

Cecilia turned toward Jessamine, her hand falling away from the drape. "He is, without any doubt, the most exasperating gentleman of my acquaintance."

"And you care for him."

"Jessamine! What a singularly erroneous idea! Don't tell me that is what he told you? The man is arrogant, opinionated, self-willed, conceited, and stubborn. And those are quite possibly his better traits!"

"Oh, dear, I see."

"Do you know what he did? He had someone follow Mr. Thornbridge about."

"Follow Mr. Thornbridge?"

"Yes. And while I owe him some thanks, for that is what prevented Mr. Thornbridge's murder, I still cannot like his motivation. He was curious. Can you fathom this, he assigned someone to follow and report on Thornbridge's movements merely to satisfy his curiosity about me and Mr. Thornbridge? What was he expecting to discover, do you suppose, that I am his secret mistress? I have never been so incensed!" She paused to draw breath, her slender body rigid with rage.

Lady Meriton crossed to a side table and poured her a glass of sherry. "Here, dear, this might help."

Cecilia took the small glass from her aunt and tossed off the contents. Lady Meriton clucked disapprovingly.

She set the glass down and resumed pacing. She shook her head, her pale brow furrowed and her full lips compressed in thought. "Jessamine, Sir Branstoke acts like he is playing an innocuous parlor game for amusement. To compound the ludicrousness of the entire situation, I believe he knows more than I do. You should have heard him try to sidestep certain subjects. Oh! I swear my brain is beleaguered with ideas and suppositions. I would that I could talk with Thornbridge!"

"Perhaps you could visit him at this doctor's residence. What did you say his name was? Hilton?"

"No, Dr. Heighton. And you're right. That is probably what I should do first before I worry myself to finders. Oh, but I don't even know if I could think straight to pen a coherent letter. My head is truly pounding."

"And you are promised to drive out with Lord Havelock to Hyde Park in a little over an hour."

"I completely forgot that engagement. I do not want to go. I can't go. My thoughts are swirling. I should be poor company and would most likely cause him to remain out of my company in the future which would not suit my purposes. No, I shall have to compose a note breaking our engagement."

"Perhaps you can suggest tomorrow afternoon as an alternate."

"Only if it is not too late and we are not out overlong. Remember, I am pledged to accept Sir Elsdon's escort to the Waymond's ball tomorrow evening."

"I remember. You know, of course, you'll have to grant similar privileges to Havelock and Rippy."

"Yes, I know. At least I may truthfully say I have one burden removed in the person of Sir James Branstoke."

Lady Meriton laughed. "Do not be so quick to cast him aside. I have noted a phenomena strangely suited to phlegmatic individuals such as your Branstoke."

"He is not mine!" Cecilia ground out, frustration and uncertainty authoring her manner.

Her aunt shrugged. "No matter whose he is, I wager he is tenacious. We have not seen the last of Sir James Branstoke, and you, my dear girl, are going to be extremely happy about that fact."

Cecilia glared at her.

Lady Meriton smiled indulgently. "You'd best write that note to Lord Havelock if you wish to cancel your meeting, otherwise it will be too late and much too embarrassing."

Reluctantly Cecilia agreed and went off for paper and pen.

Late the next afternoon, pale gray woolly clouds were slowly converging when Cecilia accepted Lord Havelock's hand into his phaeton. She was grateful it was not a high perch model for in her continued preoccupied condition she'd likely have misstepped and tumbled back onto the pavement in an ungainly bundle of skirts and petticoats. Tooling about Hyde Park at five o'clock was not what she wished to be doing. Unfortunately, she knew no other recourse, for it would not be politic to break her engagement with the gentleman a second time. Consequently, she assented to accompany him and donned a new, colorful outfit of cornflower blue and yellow for the occasion. She looked lovely, and if her eyes did not sparkle or the roses bloom in her cheeks, it was not to be remarked upon. She was polite, pleasant, yet distant; for her mind remained bent upon considering Mr. Thornbridge and his activities.

She'd waited almost all day for a return note from Dr. Heighton. She waited in vain, for though Dr. Heighton did respond, it was not with the looked-for response. He disallowed her visit! She'd been shocked. He wrote with the greatest formality and deference, but he begged to inform her his address was not suitable for receiving visits by gentlewomen. Anyway, he continued, he was sending Mr. Thornbridge to the country to recuperate at his father's residence. Perhaps she could visit him there.

Visit him there! She didn't even know where his people came from! She supposed she could gain that information through Waddley's, but it would likely cause too many questions.

She felt confoundedly helpless. It was not a state she welcomed. She hated helplessness and all its attendant ramifications. She could not allow herself to float on the river like a punt without a pole. To be left to the mercy of wind, tide, and obstruction, natural or otherwise, was a fate to be abhorred. It was a fate to which too much of her life had already followed to dismal ends.

No! It was not fair to bundle her marriage with Mr. Waddley with dismal events. She smiled slightly. Maybe it would be best to say her life with Mr. Waddley had been a time floating on a particularly peaceful and slow-moving waterway.

"Ah! A smile," said Lord Havelock. "I was wondering if I was destined to spend the entire carriage ride with a statue, lovely though that statue might be."

"I beg your pardon, Lord Havelock. My mind is taken up with other matters. Matters that I am sure you would consider light, but in my existence carry much weight." She allowed her laugh to titter self-consciously.

He appeared to consider her words. "I have experienced that circumstance with my own mother and sister. I believe I may be trusted to understand and forgive."

Cecilia's eyebrows rose and she suppressed an urge to laugh. "You relieve my mind," she managed in only a slightly strangled voice.

He nodded but did not look her way, his eyes on his leader. "I understand Reggie has not been behindhand in soliciting your hand in marriage."

"What would you know of the matter?" she asked carefully.

He allowed a slight smile to pull at the corners of his lips. "From Reggie, of course. I also know you rejected him. Wisely done. He is a pleasant fribble, but easily cowed. Should you marry him, you two would no doubt flounder about. You need a firmer and steadier hand."

"Oh? Do you have any suggestions? I ask merely for informational purposes, that I may understand the drift of your mind."

"Of course And may I say that is wise of you. Too many young women would take offense at my words. I am pleased to see you have the maturity to appreciate receiving wisdom and guidance from others."

"Thank you," she murmured pleasantly while her yellow kid-gloved fingers curled into talons. How could this arrogant man ever have been the shy-mannered gentleman of Miss Amblethorp’s memory? It did not seem possible.

"There are any number of gentlemen with the strength of character you need. There is myself, of course, and I would say Sir Branstoke, though I understand he is not inclined toward matrimony—"

"While you are?"

"Given the proper understanding from a woman and complementary feelings, yes, I should say so."

"I see. Anyone else? My curiosity, you understand. What about Sir Elsdon?"

Havelock's eyes narrowed a moment. "Yes, I suppose he must be considered also, if he can be brought to forego his tendency toward levity. He can be a remarkably shrewd man. But I would not recommend that any decisions be made with dispatch."

"I shall contrive not to."

"You think me too blunt perhaps?"

"No, not at all, Lord Havelock. Actually, I do not seriously consider remarriage. My health, you understand." She saw him nod solemnly and suppressed a smile. "By the by, have you seen my brother as of late? We had a slight family tiff while at Oastley, and I fear he is foresworn of my company. Silly really."

"Yes I have, and judging from his demeanor, I should say whatever transpired, you were the victor."

"Still pouting?"

"I'm afraid so. Tomorrow evening a group of us are gathering to rehearse a play.”

"Rehearse a play?"

He looked down at her, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "It is a short piece of Sir Elsdon's devising. We humor him. You and Lady Meriton shall have to come to the performance as my personal guests."

"We should be delighted," she cried, clasping her hands together.

"I believe Elsdon is sending out cards tomorrow. Until then it is to be a secret. I would appreciate it if you did not mention it to him until you receive your invitation. He can be tiresome if crossed."

She laughed. "You have my word."

"Anyway, as I was saying, tomorrow evening we rehearse for several hours then we adjourn to my quarters for cards. Randolph has promised to attend, and knowing his head, no doubt I shall be obliged to put him up for the entire night. While in my clutches, shall I contrive to hint to him that a reconciliation would be in order?"

"That would be most kind of you."

He nodded as if that were understood. Cecilia smiled again, and this time it lit her eyes, for the kernel of a plan was forming in her fertile mind. She kept up a lively conversation to atone for her earlier reticence, her hands fluttering about as she talked, until she happened to see Sir James Branstoke driving Miss Cresswell. Suddenly a heavy weight felt like it was pressing upon her chest. She turned to Lord Havelock and hinted that the clouds were becoming a worrisome dark gray and that the freshening wind threatened to chill her to the bone. They contrived to arrive back at Lady Meriton's house before the threatening fat raindrops began their steady fall. Snidely she found she hoped Miss Cresswell was not similarly fortunate.