Page 27 of Her Lion of a Duke
“Yes, of course. I simply—I wish to ask their cook if I might bake something here.”
The ladies chuckled at her. It was the perfect excuse, and one they would not argue with. They never said no to her cakes.
She did not, however, go down to the kitchens. Instead, she went to Cecilia’s rooms, pausing at the door.
It was an invasion of her friend’s privacy, but Beatrice had to know the truth, and she knew that Cecilia would not tell it to her of her own accord.
Steeling herself, she pushed the door open.
It was a beautiful room, luxurious and decorated in blue. It was clear that the room had been decorated long before Cecilia arrived, making it simply good luck that it was something she liked.
Beatrice only admired it for a moment before remembering why she was there. She went to the desk, sifting through papers until she found what she was looking for.
“It is in such times that one has to ask why ladies are considered the fairer sex.
It is ladies who are insidious, who can destroy the lives of others with a mere rumor. Ladies, you will find, are the ones we should fear, not we gentlemen. They must be beautiful, intelligent, and perfect, always aware of what is happening around them. It is why I—perhaps controversially—believe that ladies should be allowed to vote.
I am not only speaking about noblewomen either. I believe that all who live in this country, rich or poor, man or woman, should be granted a say in what happens in our society. It is a radical way of thinking, but you do not read my work for my lack of opinions.
One might say it is due to a lack of education that those who cannot vote should never be able to, but that is plainly and sincerely wrong. Everyone knows what is happening, and it is the poor and the women who feel the country’s status more than anyone.
I would also argue that?—”
“What are you doing?”
Beatrice dropped the pamphlet and whirled around to see Cecilia staring at her.
“Beatrice, if you wished to see my room, you merely had to ask. Why are you looking through my things?”
“Why do you have this pamphlet?” Beatrice asked back sharply. “Felix Gray, again? Why do you keep these?”
“That is none of your business, Beatrice. I have told you that I have nothing to do with the man.”
“Perhaps, but you keep far too many things of his for me to believe you. You know that I know, Cecilia. I have heard you at your angriest, and there is no mistaking the two voices.”
“That does not—you do not?—”
For once, Cecilia seemed at a loss for words. She had no witty reply, nothing to make Beatrice believe her.
She had been caught.
She walked over to the desk and took the pamphlet, locking it away in a drawer.
“I will not accept your accusation,” she said quietly. “If I admire a gentleman, and perhaps even model my behavior after him at times, then that is for me to decide. There is nothing more to it.”
“Then I will believe you, but you should know that if you are Felix Gray, then I would rather know for certain instead of merely assuming. Granted, I would not know whether to applaud or strangle you, but I would at least know.”
Cecilia fell silent for a moment, and Beatrice wondered if she would at least be given an honest answer.
Suddenly, her friend cleared her throat, not looking her in the eye. “If it were me, you would know for certain by now. Come, we should rejoin the others.”
Beatrice wished that she were more like her friend. She wished that she had a voice. She wished that she were capable of saying exactly what she thought without a care for what came of it.
She wanted to take her friend’s wrist and sit her down, not leaving the room until she knew the truth, but that was simply not who she was. It was easier to let the matter lie and assume that Cecilia had a secret life she did not want to share, but was able to control.
Of all the people who had to keep such a secret, Cecilia was the most capable.
They both tried to pretend that nothing had happened, but Beatrice knew that the others could sense the tension between them. Cecilia looked in her direction, but it was different this time.
