Page 80 of Surrender Your Grace
“I won’t let that happen.” He swept her into his arms. “This is the last time anyone gets close to you, sweeting. I swear it.”
She rested her head on his chest as they rode on in silence, wrapped in shared dread.
Andrew’s gaze drifted to the frost-flecked window. His thoughts already turning toward his next move. By nightfall, someone would answer his questions.
***
Jenkins appeared in the doorway. “Cook’s special blend, Your Grace.”
Cici nodded as he placed the porcelain tray and tea service beside her.
“Shall I pour?”
“I can manage, Jenkins. Please shut the door on your way out. I’m seeking twenty minutes of peace.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
The door clicked shut, and she exhaled. After the day she’d endured, she needed a few moments alone to reclaim herself.
She poured the steaming brew, blended to her taste by the Sommerville House kitchen, into the delicate china cup. The scent of white peony and linden, sweetened with orange zest and a whisper of vanilla, curled through the air.
Cradling the cup in both hands, she leaned back. Outside, the world pressed on with its duties, demands, and expectations. But here, in the hush of the sitting room, the quiet wrapped around her like a shawl.
She sipped and closed her eyes.
But only for a beat.
Her name echoed through the hallway seconds before Maggie burst in, cheeks pink from the cold. “There you are!” she exclaimed, flinging off her pelisse and draping it over a chair. “I’ve been worried sick. All of Mayfair is buzzing about what happened.”
“Scandal travels fast,” Cici murmured, setting her cup back in its saucer. So much for peace.
Maggie dropped into the seat across from her. “Are you all right?”
“A bit shaken,” she admitted. “But otherwise fine.”
“You could have been killed.”
“It was close,” she replied, managing a calm she didn’t feel.
“Where’s my brother?” Maggie asked, tugging off her gloves. “I thought he’d be hovering over you.”
“He’s busy locking down every moment of my life,” Cici muttered. “Guards everywhere, rigid schedules, instruction on how to breathe.”
“What?” Maggie asked, her tone sharpened.
“It was only a jest. A bad one. He’s tripling my guard. But enough about me.” She tipped her chin toward Maggie’s left hand. “Is that a betrothal ring I see?”
As if seeing it for the first time, her friend looked down at the large sapphire surrounded by glittering diamonds. She brushed her thumb across the center stone. “Duncan gave it to me this morning.”
“It’s stunning.”
“It is,” she whispered. Then, drawing a resolute breath, she declared, “But I’m not keeping it. I’m getting out of this engagement.”
“Is he really so awful? He’s dashing and seems charming. And he’s a longtime family friend. Which makes him ideal, doesn’t it?”
“Too ideal. And too convenient. I want a man who loves me, not one who finds me... expeditious.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
