Page 4 of Surrender Your Grace
“It’s said she was his mistress, but Andrew ended it several weeks ago. It’s common knowledge that my brother intends to marry and start a family. She is completely unsuitable to be his wife, of course.”
“Because of her age?”
“Don’t be naïve, Cici. We have the blood of kings flowing through the Sommerville line, albeit diluted. Andrew can’t marry a lowborn, scheming widow who might very well be a murderess.”
“I suppose not,” she agreed before bumping her friend with her arm. “You know the players intimately in this case because one is family, but you always have the very best gossip.”
With a touch of smugness, she replied, “Why, thank you. Since good gossip is a commodity as coveted as gold in this town, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
A fanfare from the musicians soared above the chattering throng in the crowded ballroom, signaling the start of the dance. Those outside surged inside. For the next hour, swirling colors and a heady mix of perfumes filled the room as elegantly dressed members of society, their jewels sparkling under the chandeliers, stepped, dipped, and whirled to the lively music.
Catching their breath before the supper dance, she and Maggie found themselves reunited. They watched the guests while swapping the newest tidbits they’d gleaned that evening. Then Cici spotted a flash of lavender in the crowd.
When she couldn’t contain a groan of dread, her friend looked at her with concern. “Are you unwell?”
“That might be preferable,” Cici muttered. “Elizabeth is signaling me.”
Maggie turned to see and struggled to contain her laughter. “What is she doing with that ridiculous purple plume? Feathers aren’t her usual style.”
Cici sighed in frustration. “It’s a prearranged signal. My sister has once again enlisted me into participating in one of her absurd plans.”
“What has she come up with, this time? More importantly”—Maggie faced her again, an eyebrow raised in challenge—“when are you going to learn to say no to her, and mean it?”
“Probably never,” she admitted with a hint of shame. “But you can’t possibly understand. You don’t have an overindulged sister like mine.”
“Thank the heavens for that. But dealing with two overprotective older brothers can’t be much easier.”
“Touché,” Cici murmured, although she’d gladly exchange overprotective for selfish and haughty any day. “Hopefully, this won’t turn into a complete disaster like so many of her other schemes. Excuse me, won’t you? Oh, and tell Lord, uh…” She scanned her dance card for the name of the gentleman who had just hurried off to get her a glass of lemonade. “Give Lord Jamison my regrets, but explain that I had to leave to attend to an urgent family matter. I will see you later this evening and fill you in on all the details.”
“Of course, and, later, I’ll try to arrange for an introduction to Andrew.”
Cici nodded absently, her mind on the task ahead of her, as she headed off. By the time she wended her way through the crowd, Elizabeth was beside herself.
“Cecilia Edwards,” she hissed. “I’ve been standing here for an eternity, waving this silly feather like a ninny.The viscount invited me to tour the gardens with him.” Elizabeth gripped her hand, her desperation evident in the bite of her fingers digginglike claws into her skin. “I need you with me, sister, more now than ever?”
“I am hardly a proper chaperone. Let me find Mama.”
Straining on tiptoe to scan the crowd, a hard tug on her arm brought her down.
“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 after the dancing.”
“There’s no time. Why must you be such a trial?” her sister snapped, thrusting her own glass toward her. “Here, take mine. I haven’t touched it.”
Cici drank deeply, parched from the dancing and the heat of the crowded ballroom. She felt Elizabeth’s eyes on her, puzzled by her sudden interest as she finish the overly tart beverage. As soon as she swallowed, her sister snatched the empty glass from her hand and set it aside, then her mood shifted again. Impatiently, she took her arm and pulled her along like a wayward child.
“If you’re done dawdling, we can go.”
They exited into the garden, not bothering to fetch wraps. It was unseasonably warm for March, but there was still a slight nip in the air. The viscount waited just outside the doors.
“My lord,” Elizabeth coolly greeted the man with a nod.
In contrast, Cici’s tongue seemed tied in knots as she gazed up in awe at the Adonis before her. He was well over six feet and, being woefully short, she had to lift her chin to gaze upon his handsome face. Facing the house, the light streaming from the windows illuminated his features; startlingly deep-blue eyes, and thick, wavy, dark blond hair brushed straight back off his forehead, worn a little longer than fashion dictated. Clean-shaven, defying the current trend, he had an appealing dimple in one cheek. Even more surprising than how breathtaking hewas up close was that Viscount Arendale was Andrew, Maggie’s brother.
The sharp swat of a fan to her forearm startled Cici from her dreamlike assessment of the man.Elizabeth glared at her for her inattention. “Cecilia,” she said, only slightly short of hissing. “His Lordship asked you a question.”
Blushing furiously, she searched to recall what it might have been. But she couldn’t. She’d been too busy staring. Gawking, rather. How mortifying!
