“All the more reason we should patronize it. I’ll be with you shortly.” In her bedroom, she changed into a morning gown, and found herself not too frustrated when Nell insisted on fussing with her hair.
“Ye have to make a good impression, milady,” Nell mumbled between her lips, where she kept pins dangling at the ready.
“Whom do I need to impress?” Cecilia demanded, as if she didn’t already know the answer.
“Yer husband, o’ course.” Nell tsked and shook her head as if her mistress were a lost cause.
When at last Cecilia stepped out onto the front portico near where the carriage waited, both Oliver and Lord Blackthorne turned toward her. Lord Blackthorne stared for a moment too long, nodding at last, while Oliver looked from one to the other and frowned before heading to the carriage and grumbling under his breath. Each of them was playing her on his own behalf, and she was caught in between.
Then she saw Oliver’s horse tied to the rear of the carriage, and when she turned to say something to her brother, he beat her to it.
“I don’t know what my plans are for this evening, so I’d best be prepared. And besides, I might not be able to stand being alone with the two of you.”
Wearing a frown, Cecilia allowed Lord Blackthorne to assist her inside. Oliver crowded in beside her, then smirked at Lord Blackthorne, who had to sit across from them. Her husband simply rested both hands on the top of his cane where it leaned on the bench between his thighs, and regarded her brother.
The coachman guided the carriage away from Appertan Hall.
“What?” Oliver demanded, folding his arms across his chest. “You insisted I accompany you into Enfield; I am coming. You cannot expect me to be pleased at getting so little sleep.”
And then he looked out the window, as if any conversation they had would bore him.
“And how are you feeling this morn, madam?” Lord Blackthorne asked.
He was studying her as if he expected to see an answer written across her face.
“I am well, my lord. You know I was not injured yesterday.”
“But it must have upset you greatly to have such a close call.”
She almost said,It is not the first,but caught herself in time. “Regardless, I will not be thinking about it again.”
Oliver glanced at Lord Blackthorne. “And are you not upset on your wife’s behalf, Blackthorne?”
“Upset? No. Concerned, yes. A terrible tragedy could have befallen your family yesterday. I believe you don’t realize how important your sister is to you, the last member of your immediate family.”
“I mean no offense, Cecilia,” Oliver said with a smirk, “but I guess you haven’t told him about our many cousins, and the fact that I could do so much good—your words—with the money I’d inherit should you leave this earth. You didn’t mention that in one of your letters?”
Cecilia took a deep breath and eyed her brother. “I don’t find your sarcasm amusing today, Oliver.”
“And I find you disrespectful,” Lord Blackthorne said.
“Then I guess you need to learn about my sense of humor,” Oliver shot back.
“That’s enough,” Cecilia insisted. Part of her was relieved that Lord Blackthorne knew where her money would be going should she die. She imagined if she stayed married, the lawyers would be pressing her to change her beneficiary, but he didn’t need to know that.
They reached Enfield, and although Cecilia tried to proceed directly to the inn, Lord Blackthorne would have none of it. She found herself paraded about the cobbled market square, then the park along New River, with her husband and brother. They were the center of attention, and the brave immediately approached for an introduction, while the shy held back and gawked. Cecilia knew everyone was curious, but she wished she’d forgone this adventure. Soon she might be having the marriage invalidated, and all along, she’d told herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care what Society thought of her. “Society” had been nebulous in her thoughts, the people in London she’d once socialized with.
But what about all these people who respected her, the people she spent her life with? Cecilia hoped they wanted the best for her, that they would understand.
Lord Blackthorne was gravely respectful to everyone he met, but she felt uncomfortable with the way he studied the townspeople’s reactions to Oliver. She noticed, too, their reserve, the almost quick dismissal of Oliver in favor of a more open pleasure on seeing her. She felt embarrassed for her brother and wished she knew if her husband could help him.
In a private dining parlor at the inn, Oliver picked at his meal, then seemed relieved when he looked past Cecilia into the corridor. “I see Rowlandson. I’ll return soon.” And then he escaped.
Lord Blackthorne shook his head once Oliver had gone. “Your brother does not like me.”
“Then you are giving up so quickly?” she asked.
“For a woman who was so reluctant to accept my help, you sound disappointed.”
