Page 82 of Surrender Your Grace
“I dread that day.”
“I’m going to do everything in my power to keep it from happening. I have only a few days.”
“So you’re going to be bratty, unmarriageable, and a criminal detective?”
“Why not? I’m versatile.”
Cici leaned in, voice gentle but pointed. “But aren’t you afraid that if you push Duncan, he might do worse than what happened in the study?”
Maggie shifted in her seat. “I don’t think Duncan would ever truly hurt me. If he did…” She bit her lip, a calculating gleam in her eye. “If he crosses the line, it will give Andrew grounds to dissolve the contract.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“No, but that’s what I’m going to do.”
“By provoking him into punishing you again? I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, but I should probably hide that dreadful birching rod first,” she said with a halfhearted laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. Then she sprang to her feet, calling over her shoulder, “I’d better get busy. So much to do, so little time,” she called over her shoulder before she sailed out the door.
The bravado did not fool Cici. Her heartbroken friend hadn’t moved quickly enough to hide the tears in her eyes.
Chapter 24
Cici stood in her chemise and stockings, gazing into the tall mirror flanking her wardrobe. Candlelight flickered in the dressing room. Her emerald gown, gleaming, pressed, and perfect, lay spread across the chaise, its intricate beadwork shimmering on the bodice. A pile of rejected jewels lay atop a silver tray: opal drop earrings, a sapphire brooch, a string of diamonds—all too cold, too impersonal. Tonight demanded strength, not ice.
Andrew entered without knocking, already dressed for the Staffordshire Ball. He wore a sharply tailored black coat and a silk cravat that matched her gown. His hair, dark blond and neatly combed, accentuated the chiseled lines of his face. More handsome than ever in his evening attire, he made her heart flutter.
Without a word, he held out a black velvet box.
She took it tentatively. He’d given her the Sommerville heirloom jewelry, and they’d exchanged gifts at Christmas, but this was different. A gift without occasion. When she opened the box, her breath caught.
Inside, nestled on black satin, were emerald and diamond combs, delicate and dazzling.
“Andrew,” she whispered. “They’re beautiful.”
“I saw them and knew they belonged on you in that dress.”
She rose on tiptoe to kiss him, but he didn’t meet her halfway. Her lips caught his jaw—fleeting, unsatisfying, and far from what she’d hoped.
“You’re worried,” she murmured.
“How can I not be when we’re acting as though nothing happened?” Andrew strode to the fire, staring into it, his expression closed.
“You’re having second thoughts?”
He gave a humorless smile. “More like third and fourth.”
She approached slowly. “You promised to take me. No matter what crisis arose.”
He turned, his arms folded. “I meant a property crisis, Cici. Not life and death. A crowded ballroom is perfect cover for someone with intent to harm.”
“I want to quiet the whispers—about us, about the scandal, about everything,” she insisted. “This is the season’s first ball. What better way to show unity than attending one of the most anticipated events—together?’
“Quashing whispers from people who don’t matter isn’t a reason to go.”
“As much as you hate to admit it, standing in society matters,” she pressed. “It’s about more than just us. It’s the Sommerville name; your mother and sister are affected too. Besides, you’ll be there to protect me.”
His jaw tightened. “Like I protected you at the modiste’s?”
