Page 71 of Her Lion of a Duke
“One of many reasons, but you know perfectly well that this is not about me. What are you going to do?”
Cecilia plopped down on a bench, taking deep breaths. She did not want to think about what would happen when she returned home. She only wanted to see her husband, have dinner with him, and then talk like they always did.
That could not happen, however, and the fault was entirely her own.
“I am going to tell him the truth,” she sighed. “There is nothing more that can be done now. If he understands, then that would be wonderful. If not, then I will have to accept it.”
“He will understand,” Beatrice reassured her. “He is a good man. He has to be, if you can stand the sight of him. Besides, the two of you are married, and he knows that you are a good person. If your words were taken out of context, then he will be able to see that. It is not as though you are known for being unkind.”
Both ladies paused for a moment, and then Cecilia let out a dark chuckle.
That was exactly what she was known for, but not by Leonard. He knew her better than the ton did, and he had never thought she was the cruel bluestocking that everyone else had decided she was.
Then again, he might change his mind when he learned of what she had done.
When the cake browned, the citrusy scent was impossible to ignore. Cecilia’s stomach growled; she had scarcely eaten, and she wasravenous. She wanted to wolf down the cake and then bake a second to take with her, but she managed to restrain herself.
“It is perfect,” she said softly. “Thank you, Bea.”
“You made it,” Beatrice reminded her. “I was merely there to help guide you, the way you have done for me all this time.”
They stepped out of the kitchen and snuck to the entrance hall, trying not to get caught by Lady Jennings. Beatrice led Cecilia to the door, cake in hand, and gave her an encouraging look.
“You will not take this too far, will you?” Cecilia asked, looking her up and down.
“Of course not. It will only be for a short while, so that I look more like the other ladies.”
“Very well, as long as you remain the Bea I’ve always known. I would hate to lose you.”
“You could never lose me! I am right here.”
Cecilia bit her lip, wondering if Beatrice had understood what she truly meant.
She knew that Beatrice would not leave her, but her friend could lose weight too quickly and get sick. It was not unheard of for young ladies to become sickly after losing weight, and she did not want that for her sweet friend.
“Wish me luck, then,” she said, turning to leave.
“All will be well. What matters is that you are going to tell him yourself, rather than him learning the truth from someone else. Do not worry so much, Cecilia. You have handled far worse.”
During the ride home, Cecilia wondered just what she could have possibly dealt with that was even half as awful. For all of her faults, she had never been a liar. If anything, her honesty was what caused her trouble.
She had never cared who she hurt before, as she thought she was doing the right thing, but there was no way of seeing what she had done as a good thing. She had been wicked, and she would have to pay the price, whether she liked it or not.
She had arrived home before dinner. The manor was quiet, eerily so, and darker than usual. She called out, but there was no response, so she went searching for someone to ask what was happening.
Fortunately, she found Mrs. Herrington in the dining room.
“Good evening,” Cecilia greeted. “Where is everyone?”
“His Grace told us all to go to our quarters,” Mrs. Herrington explained. “He said that once dinner is ready, there will be no need for us tonight.”
“I see.” Cecilia nodded. “It has been a very busy week, so he likely wants everyone to rest. He is thoughtful, is he not?”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Herrington replied.
“Where is he now? It is almost dinner.”
“He had an urgent matter to attend to. He will be eating alone tonight.”
