Page 100 of Reckless Kiss

A terrible sense of foreboding washed over her, like she was too late for something. Living a secluded life, she always felt like she was late to everything, but this feeling was chilling her to her bones.

Chapter 45

The following morning, Cynthia had been summoned to her grandfather’s study and made to wait outside while Freddie had gone in first. Half an hour later, Freddie came out with his shoulders slumped and stomped over to the stairs where Cynthia was sitting. She stood as soon as she saw him approach.

“Don’t go in there, Cynthia. If you know what you want in life, do not enter the study,” Freddie said to Cynthia at the foot of the stairs in the grand foyer.

“Why?”

“Just trust me for once. You may be older than me, but I know a thing or two about living life, especially if you’re in love.”

“I can’t defy mother or father,” Cynthia said.

“You could if you had the courage.”

“I have courage,” she said indignantly.

Freddie shook his head and trudged up the stairs like he was walking to his doom.

Torn between Freddie’s warning and her need to please her parents, she whipped her head back and forth between the closed study door and the landing of the first floor where Freddie was waiting. He leaned over the bannister, staring her down.

“Cynthia, come into the study,” her father called from the door.

She hadn’t heard it open while locking her eyes with her brother. He looked like he was going to cry. The need to run to her little brother had her stepping towards the stairs.

“Now, Cynthia. You can coddle your brother later,” he bellowed.

Cynthia mouthed her apology to her brother, and he shook his head. A moment later, he walked along the corridor and out of sight. She straightened her cardigan, hurried across the foyer, and slipped into the study. There was no sight of Bailey, just her father and grandfather standing solemnly at the cold fireplace.

“What’s going on?” Cynthia asked.

“How was last night?” her father asked.

“The dinner?”

“Yes, the dinner. What else do you think I’m talking about?” Cynthia’s father snapped.

“The dinner was fine. Cook out did herself with the beef wellington.”

“I’m not talking about the bloody food, girl. I’m talking about Sullivan.”

“Oh. Well, Sullivan was nice enough. He’s a lot older than me, so we don’t have much in common.”

“Good. You’ll be married within two weeks.”

Cynthia put her hands on her hips, digging her fingers into the waistband of her tweed trousers. “What the…”

Her Grandfather stayed quiet but stared at her with a look of disapproval.

Her father cleared his throat and stood feet apart with his hands in his suit pockets. He took a stance that made her feel like a child, looking down his nose with an air of disappointment.

“He is to be your husband. You’re thirty and getting on. We can’t have a spinster in the family.”

Cynthia spluttered without saying any words and then fisted her hands at her side. Now she found her courage, but she knew deep down it was far too late. “I’ve found my husband. I was going to tell you all at dinner, but then you invited Sullivan.”

Her Grandfather laughed humourlessly, “Are you referring to Jonathan Cranford?”

Cynthia stood there speechless, switching from both men, trying to work out if this was a sick joke at her expense.

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