Lady Cecilia Is Cordially Disinvited For Christmas Page 5

  He closed his eyes briefly and gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I see that now. My only defense is that I was working hard because I wanted to get that chapter of my life behind me as quickly as possible so I could start my next chapter with you.” He fixed his gaze on her, desperate to convey the depth of his feelings. “I hate being without you. The sooner I establish myself as a barrister, the sooner we can be together.”

  She stared at him with wide-eyed surprise, but not with disbelief, thank god. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your plans?”

  “I assumed you understood, which was foolish of me. I shouldn’t have expected you to know my thoughts or my plans when I never explained them to you. I was wrong. I made a terrible mistake. I hope you can forgive me. I promise it won’t happen again. I’d give anything for us to find a way to move on.”

  She took a step closer to him, and he could see the glint of hope in her beautiful eyes. “What is it that you want, Devin? Why did you trick me into meeting you in the library? Was it simply to apologize? Because that won’t do. I need more from you than a simple apology. Much more.”

  He moved toward her, hope filling his chest and making it hard to breathe. “Can’t you already guess why I’m here? I—”

  He stopped abruptly when his mother swept into the library, a harried look in her eyes. Her gaze landed on Cecilia, and she looked relieved until she spotted Devin. Her expression darkened momentarily, but she managed to conceal it by the time Cecilia whirled to face her.

  “Lady Cecilia,” his mother said in a tone of forced gaiety, “I was searching for you. I’ve decided to put the tree up now, and I need you to assist me in choosing the perfect spot.”

  “Of course, Lady Vincent.” Cecilia’s eyes flickered an apology toward Devin as she took a step toward the woman. “It would be my pleasure.”

  His mother wanted Cecilia’s advice? Devin didn’t believe it. It was much more likely that she wanted to keep Cecilia as far away from her son as possible.

  Lady Vincent fixed Cecilia with a steady stare. “I hate to have to scold you, but since your mother isn’t here, I feel I must stand in for her. You and Devin can’t be alone together like this. What would people think? It’s quite incautious of you. Come away with me now before anyone else sees you here.”

  His mother took Cecilia by the elbow, and she sent him a longing look as she was deftly removed from the room.

  At the doorway, Mother paused to send him a sharp glance. If eyes could shoot daggers, he’d be skewered right now.

  7

  Devin was frustrated by his mother’s interference in his life, but she was right. He and Cecilia shouldn’t be caught alone together. The rules of society might be a bit laxer here in the country, but a young woman’s reputation could still be ruined. He wanted to marry Cecilia, but he didn’t want people to assume they’d been forced into it. He’d never do that to her.

  With that in mind, Devin decided to remain in the library for a while. It was easy enough to browse through the shelves and locate his father’s new additions to the collection. He was surprised to find The Raven and Other Poems by that American, Edgar Allan Poe. He started reading it, and quickly found himself deeply engrossed. When he finally shook himself free of sad tale of “The Raven,” he found that a half hour had passed. It should be safe to return to the drawing room now. He found it difficult to shake off the feeling of loss that the poem had left him with.

  Horace was walking with his head down, fastidiously brushing at the sleeve of his dark jacket, when he ran headlong into Devin.

  “Watch your step,” Devin said.

  “There you are. I could have used your help ten minutes ago. Mother had me put up the tree now instead of waiting until this evening. She decided it would be easier to decorate it in the daylight.”

  “What happened there?” Devin asked, gesturing toward a dark spot on Horace’s sleeve.

  “Pine sap. I need to change.”

  “Hmm. I’m sorry to have missed it. Well, perhaps not the pine sap.”

  “Pine sap is better than what you have in store. Mother’s looking for you, and she’s in a mood.” Horace grinned as he headed for the staircase.

  Devin entered the drawing room and found nearly all the house guests in attendance. He immediately spotted Cecilia next to his mother decorating the tree. She turned to face him as though she already knew he was there. Her eyes seemed to light up at the sight of him, causing warmth to fill him. He’d like to speak to her, but with his mother standing next to her, it would be a bad idea.

  Devin spotted a young man on the other side of the room with a sketchpad propped against one knee. Out of curiosity, he maneuvered behind the man to peer over his shoulder. The pad was filled with remarkably accurate sketches of all the guests as they went about their preparations for Christmas.

  The young man noted Devin’s presence and tilted his sketchpad so he could take a closer look.

  “Those are excellent.”

  “Thank you. This is a perfect opportunity for me to capture everyone unaware. I get some of my best moments this way.”

  “Do you see that young woman trimming the tree? The one next to Lady Vincent?”

  “Of course.” The young man flipped his sketchpad back one page, and Devin saw a number of drawings of Cecilia. “She has an expressive face.”

  “Do you think you could draw a small portrait of her? I’d like one that’s approximately an inch high. One of myself as well.”

  “Of course. I’d be delighted.” He turned to a fresh page and immediately started sketching, so Devin left him to his task.

  Cecilia moved to pick up one of the ornaments, and Devin noticed that his mother picked up one as well. He watched for a moment, noticing that his mother kept pace with Cecilia as she placed the decorations. Children scurried around them, hanging decorations as well, but they didn’t disturb the oddly coordinated movements as Cecilia and Lady Vincent trimmed the tree. It would seem that his mother was keeping a watchful eye on her charge, but Devin didn’t think her reasons were as altruistic as she’d like everyone to believe.

  Cecilia glanced over at him, miming that her hands were handcuffed together. She pretended to try to break free. When she ultimately failed, she simulated crying.

  Devin glanced around, but the only other person who appeared to be watching her was the artist. The man looked positively engrossed as his pencil flew across his page.

  Lady Vincent stepped toward the table that held a profusion of tree decorations. Cecilia mimed that the invisible tether affixed to her wrist jerked her along as well. Cecilia’s entire body seemed to be dragged along by his mother.

  Devin quickly covered his mouth and pretended his bark of laughter was a cough.

  His mother whirled to face him.

  He schooled his features to hide the grin that threatened to burst through.

  “Devin, there you are.” His mother stepped forward to greet him. When Cecilia would have followed, Lady Vincent patted her hand and gestured toward the tree for her to continue before hurrying to greet Devin.

  Cecilia raised a single eyebrow as she watched her go.

  “Mr. Glassford was promised a game of whist with your father, but he’s otherwise occupied. Can you take his place?”

  “Of course. I’m always at your disposal.” He glanced at Cecilia and shrugged. She returned a commiserating smile.

  A moment later, his mother introduced him to Mr. Glassford. “I hope you don’t mind if I abandon you,” she said. “I want to finish trimming the tree before dinner.”

  “Of course, Lady Vincent. Don’t let me keep you,” Mr. Glassford said as he turned to Devin. “Come. We’ve already claimed a table.” He guided Devin toward a card table where Lady Judith Glassford and Miss Glassford were already seated. A moment later, Devin found himself sitting directly across from Miss Glassford. Fortunately, he also had an unimpeded view of Cecilia.

  Cecilia’s gaze fixed on Miss Glassford’s back for a moment, and th
en she scowled and turned her back on him.

  Damn.

  “Miss Glassford,” Devin said, forcing himself into the role of host. “How pleasant to see you again. I hope you’re enjoying your visit.”

  She blushed faintly. “Absolutely. I couldn’t be happier.”

  Although his mother had returned to Cecilia’s side, she inched toward Devin’s party. She became quite still as she craned her neck as though trying to eavesdrop. When she scowled in frustration, he realized they must be too far away for her to be successful.

  Wasn’t that just too bad?

  “Don’t you want to help decorate the tree?” Devin asked, loudly enough for his mother to hear.

  “Pine sap,” Lady Judith intoned rather portentously.

  “And pine needles,” Miss Glassford said in her whispery voice, rubbing her hands as though feeling the prick of them through her gloves. “Tree trimming is quite detrimental to my gloves. I don’t understand why bringing live trees into one’s home has become such a commonplace custom— and so quickly.”

  “People love them simply because Queen Victoria does. Prince Albert brought the tradition with him from Germany.”

  “We aren’t Germans. I don’t understand why everyone else in England needs to have a tree.” Miss Glassford’s bottom lip swelled in a soft pout.

  “That’s why we’re enjoying the day with a simple game of whist rather than frittering away our time with all these needless preparations,” Mr. Glassford said, dealing out the cards. “I must say, being here is pleasant enough, but all this tiresome attention to trees and branches is distracting.”

  Devin stared at the man in bemusement. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say in reply.

  Devin’s mother no longer seemed as focused on Cecilia. Instead, all of her attention was fixed on Devin and their card game.

  Although Mr. Glassford and his wife played whist as though they’d done so for years, Miss Glassford proved to be a barely adequate player. She was much more interested in talking than in winning. That might have been pleasant enough if not for the fact that Devin didn’t find her topics to be particularly engaging. Marriage proposals and parties reigned supreme, and she didn’t need his participation in order to keep talking. That was fortunate, since it left him free to observe Cecilia.

  A little tow-haired girl who appeared to be around five years old tugged on Cecilia’s dress, so she leaned down to speak to her. A moment later, Cecilia hoisted the child onto her hip and helped her hang one of the red cornucopias on an upper bough. The girl grinned and hugged Cecilia before wiggling to be let down. Cecilia deftly deposited her on the floor, and she scrambled off to join a boy who appeared to be her brother. If Devin wasn’t mistaken, that little girl and her brother were the Marchcomb twins.

  “Phoebe, darling, I almost forgot to mention that I received a letter from your grandfather, Lord Terron,” Lady Judith said as she took the last trick in the round. “His health is much improved.”

  “I’m so pleased to hear that,” Miss Glassford said.

  Lady Judith glanced at Devin. “Are you acquainted with my father?”

  “Lord Terron? No, we haven’t met.” Devin watched as Lady Judith counted her points. He and Miss Glassford were now behind zero to four. One more point and they’d lose.

  “I’m not surprised. He prefers to remain on his estate in northern England. He rarely makes it to London. Since I’m his only child, I try to visit him at least twice a year. He has no other family and can get quite lonely.” She dealt the cards.

  Now Devin understood why she’d mentioned her father. She’d hoped to pique his interest regarding Miss Glassford’s situation as one of the earl’s heirs. He had to give the woman credit for mentioning it with a modicum of skill. He’d certainly met less subtle mothers. “You must be relieved to know he’s doing well.”

  Miss Glassford played one of her cards, taking the hand Devin had already won. She didn’t even seem aware of the fact that she’d just taken her partner’s trick. “I was disappointed to learn I won’t be sitting with you at dinner tonight now that Lord Babbage and his daughters have arrived. I’d been under the impression that they weren’t coming this year.” She led the round with a card in a suit that had already been trumped by her mother. Devin was forced to follow suit, and Lady Judith Glassford played trump once again, taking the trick. Five to one. They’d lost.

  “Let’s play again,” Mr. Glassford said as he gathered the cards and began shuffling them.

  “I believe there was some confusion on our end. Lord Babbage and his daughters are here, but Lady Babbage is unwell. I’m glad the rest of the family were able to attend,” Devin said. He watched as Cecilia reached up to place an ornament high on the tree. She turned to smile at the same little girl tugging on her dress again. The girl held up another ornament she wanted to hang. “I’ve spent every Christmas with Lady Cecilia for years. I would have been quite disappointed if she hadn’t been here.”

  Miss Glassford’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. I hadn’t realized you were so well acquainted.”

  “I’ve known her since we were children,” Devin explained. His gaze flickered past Miss Glassford’s shoulder to watch Cecilia as she lifted the little Marchcomb twin again. The girl placed a second cornucopia next to the first one and gave a delighted grin.

  He smiled indulgently. Cecilia would make a marvelous mother.

  A moment later, he glanced back to Miss Glassford in time to see the look of dawning comprehension sweep over her face.

  She fell completely silent.

  After a couple of hands of play, her parents attempted to fill the conversational silence, but her unease was obvious.

  Lady Judith glanced at her daughter’s distressed expression, and her jaw tensed.

  Devin’s mother turned away from trimming the tree to watch them yet again. As she took in their tableau, her expression morphed from expectancy and joy to one of startled disillusionment.

  What had she expected? He’d realized from the beginning that she’d manipulated him into spending time with Miss Glassford and her family. Apparently, she’d also filled Miss Glassford’s head with some balderdash about Devin being desperately in need of a wife.

  The right sort of wife.

  Mr. Glassford took the last trick, winning the game. “Care for another round?” he asked.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Miss Glassford said, “I find myself tired from the day’s activities. I’d like to retire to my room.” She stood, and Devin and her father rose as well.

  “Thank you for the pleasant game of whist,” Devin said.

  She gave him a curt nod and then hurried from the room as quickly as a guilty man who’d just been granted an verdict of innocence.

  Devin clenched his jaw. His mother’s meddling had to stop. Too many people were getting hurt.

  8

  A flutter of movement caught Cecilia’s attention as Miss Glassford hurried toward the door with quick, purposeful steps.

  The woman even walked more elegantly than she did. How could she compete with that?

  She didn’t like seeing Devin spending time with her. It was jealousy, pure and simple. The fact that this nasty emotion could take root told her that things were not yet resolved between her and Devin. If they were, she wouldn’t feel this way.

  Did she still harbor doubts about him? About his lack of correspondence? She wasn’t sure. His explanation rang true, but it still showed a callousness. A lack of ability to see things from her point of view. Was this an indicator of things to come? A bellwether telling her that they’d have a relationship more like the tides— one that would ebb and flow based on how wrapped up he became in his work?

  She accepted Devin’s explanation about why he hadn’t written. It made sense— even though his reasoning had been flawed. Still, she hesitated. She needed more from him. Expected more. She refused to endure being treated so callously— as though she were nothing more than a paper cone holding a street vendor’s roas
ted chestnuts— something easily discarded and then forgotten.

  She needed more time to think about this, but she suspected she might not have the luxury. If she didn’t make a decision about Devin soon, it might be made for her. Especially if Lady Vincent had her way.

  “Lady Judith, would you like to join us?” Lady Vincent asked. “We’re nearly finished trimming the tree.”

  “No thank you. I’m certain you’re managing everything admirably. I couldn’t possibly improve on such perfection.” Lady Judith Glassford tucked her hands behind her skirts.

  “How do you find your new home? Are you settling in well?” Lady Vincent asked.

  “We’re making some improvements. Mr. Glassford decided to add a new wing because he prefers indoor washrooms.”

  “Oh, my. Your home will be quite lavish. I’m sure it will be the talk of the county.”

  “Mr. Glassford was quite insistent. I’m more interested in updating the stables. You know how I love to ride. I’ve nearly convinced Mr. Glassford we need to erect an entirely new building. The current one is wholly inadequate.”

  Cecilia picked up one of the last ornaments from the table and placed it as high as she could reach. Nearby, one of the younger men perched on a ladder as he hung glittering ornaments on the uppermost branches. She couldn’t bear to watch him. What if he toppled to the floor or knocked over the tree?

  A little boy came barreling toward them, and images of toppled trees, falling ladders, and broken necks flashed through Cecilia’s mind. She recognized the child as being the little girl’s twin brother.

  A look of panic contorted his face. “No! They’re all gone, and I didn’t get to put one on the tree!” he wailed.

  “What’s all this?” Lady Vincent snapped.

  At her words, the child grabbed hold of Lady Vincent’s skirt and started tugging at it. “I want to trim the tree too!”

  “You should have thought of that sooner.” Lady Vincent grabbed hold of his wrists and pulled him off her dress. When she caught sight of his grubby hands, she let out a gasp. “What is that? Chocolate?” She examined the fabric and let out a groan. “You dirty little boy. You’ve ruined my silk gown!”