Chapter Eight
Several days later, on Christmas Eve, as Cecelia sat listless on the settee and watched her mother enter and exit the drawing room, her face first looking enraged and then stupefied, Cecelia wondered just how much worse she could feel.
“Two marriage proposals,” her mother wailed. “One from a duke and one from a laird of a Highland clan, and you have rejected them both! I don’t imagine we will have anything to eat tomorrow for a Christmastide feast,” her mother said shrilly. “We have no funds left to buy any food! We are nearly beggars!”
Cecelia rose on shaky legs with a heart that had been shattered and went to her room, where she had hidden money she had made some months ago by selling her few pieces of jewelry. She gathered the money, marched downstairs with it, and plunked it on the table before her mother. “This will give us some time. I will secure a job as a seamstress, a cook, or perhaps a maid within a sennight. I vow it.”
Her mother’s answer was the loudest wail Cecelia had ever heard from her. It was so loud that Cecelia nearly missed the knock at the door. As they had been forced to let the butler go the day before, Cecelia made her way to the entrance, and when she opened it, she blinked at the sight of Cooper. Her first thought was that something had happened to Elizabeth.
“What’s the matter?” she cried, no longer caring that her mother would learn of her friendship with Elizabeth. Cecelia would be friends with whomever she chose from this moment forward.
Cooper held out what appeared to be an invitation. Frowning, Cecelia took it, opened it, and read it.
Dearest Cecelia,
I would so love if you and your mother might join me for a Christmastide feast tomorrow, if you think you can convince your mother to darken my door.
All the best,
Elizabeth
Cecelia folded the paper and glanced over her shoulder at her mother, who had come up behind her and clearly had read the note over Cecelia’s shoulder.
“Certainly not,” her mother snapped.
Cecelia ignored her, and it felt heavenly. “Tell Elizabeth that I shall be there,” she told Cooper.
The butler grinned. “I’ll convey the good news,” he said, then turned to go.
Cecelia closed the door and faced her mother. “Iamgoing.”
“I’ll not go with you,” her mother said, giving Cecelia a wounded look that made her lose her last bit of control.
“Mama, I am the heartbroken one! The wounded one. I am sorry I failed you! I’m sorry for my fault in Papa’s death! But I cannot marry Blackmore. I don’t love him! And I cannot marry Lord MacLeod, as he clearly does not truly love me!”
“Oh, Cecelia!” her mother cried, a horrified look coming over her face. “You are not at all to blame for your father’s death, and I—” She had to pause because, to Cecelia’s amazement, she choked up. “I simply wanted to spare you the hardships I endured by being poor. I’ve failed you!” her mother lamented and burst into tears.
A trace of amusement filled Cecelia as she moved to soothe her mother. Leave it to Mother to need mollifying when Cecelia was the injured party. Yet, somehow, hovering over her mother, quieting her tears, and whispering words of reassurance made Cecelia feel stronger, as if they would, indeed, survive whatever came to them.
After a bit, her mother suddenly stopped crying, and she wiped her face and squared her shoulders as a look of fierce determination spread across her face. Cecelia didn’t know what to make of the transformation, nor what to think when her mother gripped her by the shoulder and stared into her eyes. “Cecelia, I may have failed you before now, but I will not fail you any longer.”
“Mother—”
“No,” her mother interrupted, “you must allow me to speak. What I say might make you cross with me all over again, but I must say it. Come sit with me,” she commanded, yet her voice was gentle. Once they were settled on the settee, her mother shocked her by sliding an arm around Cecelia’s shoulder and stroking her hair. “Darling, I believe you have been too harsh with Lord MacLeod.”
Cecelia stiffened. She was sure her mother was now Liam’s biggest advocate because she knew he was well-off.
Her mother looked suddenly sad as she squeezed Cecelia’s shoulder. “I see the look on your face,” she whispered in a shamed tone, “and I can understand it. If I were you, I would also believe I was only saying this because I now know he can take care of you. I’m not going to lie—it greatly pleases me to know that he has the means to ensure you will never have to know a day of hunger or fear you may not have a roof over your head, but what pleases me more than this is that I truly believe he loves you.”
“But he lied to me,” Cecelia replied. “He didn’t know me well enough to be certain that I would not marry him simply for his money.”
Her mother frowned at her. “Of course he didn’t know of your wonderful character, Cecelia. He had to learn it first. And, after all,” Mother said in a chiding tone, “you said yourself that you made it clear to him from the beginning that you needed to make a marriage of convenience. Put yourself in his place. What if you were the heiress and he was a man without funds who told you from the start that he needed to wed a lady of means? What would you do? Would you immediately have put your faith in a man you had only just met but had an instant liking for, or would you decide to see if a true affection grew and then tell him the truth of it?”
She bit her lip, thinking, but it only took a moment to know what was in her heart. She would have done exactly as Liam had! She swallowed the despair in her throat. “What have I done?” she moaned. “I’ve ruined everything, I’m certain.”
“Shh. Don’t give up hope so easily,” her mother cooed. “Oh! I know!” she cried. “It is not yet too late to go call on his sister, and when we do, hopefully, he will be there and the two of you can talk!”
Cecelia’s heart leaped with hope even as her stomach knotted with fear of rejection. She scrambled to her feet, refusing to allow the fear to stop her from trying to smooth things over with Liam.
