Page 35 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock
Lady Norfolk's residence was in Cavendish Square, and the lady was known to hold the most elegant ball of the season. She was a notorious matchmaker, second only to Lady Cairs, something he’d just now thought of to his chagrin.
There was nothing for it. Cecil would ensure he didn’t get too involved with Lady Louisa so that when they went their separate ways, she would not be injured. Lady Charlotte and Lady Edith were her friends and were married to his friends. He couldn’t have everyone angry with him.
Cecil was astonished Leopold saw him as a marriage prospect. Word must have circulated that he wasn’t as impoverished as he’d let on to convince the RA he was open to their overtures. Reopening the house in Town would lend more credibility to that idea. Did he care what Leopold thought? He would need to if he wanted to gain access to Louisa’s clock.
He felt for the pocket watch his brother had gifted him. He carried it near his heart in any jacket he wore.
Cecil’s father had died when he was seven years old. Wycliffe was sixteen and left Oxford to run the estates while their brother David was still in leading strings. For the next twenty years, Cecil had seen his eldest brother as a surrogate father. He had worshipped Wycliffe and thought he could do anything.
David had been more sheltered, being the youngest and the person their mother clung to after her husband’s death. Although his parents’ marriage wasn’t a love match, his mother had grieved her dead husband, wearing widow’s weeds for several years.
Cecil had once mentioned their mother's grief to Wycliffe.
“Our parents were married for several years. I imagine they were used to each other in a way. Like a comfortable pair of shoes.”
Was that what marriage was? Becoming used to each other and rubbing along well enough? David had married and produced an heir, effectively securing the continuation of the Wycliffe line. Cecil felt no great inclination to marry or have a family. His life was muddled enough, seeking his brother’s killer.
His mother wrote him once a fortnight from the estate in Yorkshire. After his brother’s death, Cecil closed the house in London and retreated to the north of England for a month to grieve. He’d also found an excellent land steward he trusted as the prior one was elderly and wished to retire to a comfortable cottage on the estate.
Once his responsibilities as the new viscount were taken care of, he’d returned to Town and started investigating the RA. When the Home Office showed no interest in what they deemed a fictional organization, Cecil promptly resigned from his position.
Satisfied with his appearance, Cecil exited his bedchamber.
“Don’t wait up for me,” Cecil told his butler when he entered the entry hall. “I might be rather late.”
He didn’t expect to be at the ball very long but planned to stop at one of the clubs for a decent meal. Perhaps it was time he thought about hiring an actual cook.
* * * * *
Louisa entered the ballroom, anticipation causing her breath to quicken. Lord Wycliffe would attend the event, and they would spar. And dance. She wasn’t sure which activity she was looking forward to the most.
“Oh, my lady,” her maid had gushed earlier that evening, “You look beautiful.”
Even her mother had praised her. “Louisa, you are breathtaking.”
To Louisa’s astonishment, there had been no backhanded compliment attached to the statement. Edith and Nathaniel’s carriage arrived promptly at eight o’clock, and she was whisked away to Cavendish Square.
“Edith has told me of the plan you hatched with Cecil,” Nathaniel said when she entered the coach. “Please be careful, Louisa.”
Careful. With her clock or her heart? She was startled to realize her thoughts had strayed to imagining she could develop feelings for the viscount.
As soon as their party greeted their hostess at the ball, the squat baron approached Louisa for a dance. Lord Wycliffe had yet to arrive, so she agreed.
Louisa nodded while Lord Danner gasped out sentences during their set. A few minutes later, her attention was caught by the sight of the viscount standing beside Nathaniel at the edge of the dance floor. Lord Wycliffe was elegant in his evening wear, his slightly long hair lending a rakish air to his appearance.
Lord Danner deposited Louisa next to Nathaniel and then inquired about refreshments.
“Perhaps later,” she replied quickly, catching Lord Wycliffe’s gaze.
The viscount bowed. “Would you do me the honor, Lady Louisa?”
“It would be a pleasure, Lord Wycliffe.”
She put her hand on his jacket sleeve, and he led her to the floor. The feel of muscle under her fingertips was a stark contrast to the baron’s rather fleshy physique.
“Your baron is dancing attendance again this season, I see,” Lord Wycliffe said lightly.
She shrugged, glancing up at him. “I had hoped he might be discouraged from pursuing me after the many times I’ve turned down his proposals.”
