It was certainly the duke's handwriting on the front, her name written in graceful black ink.
She ran her fingers over it, wondering what kind of expression he might have had when writing it.
“Go on,” Catherine urged her with a hand upon her knee. “Open it.”
With no letter opener, Cecelia was careful to break the wax seal on the back of the envelope before she pulled the letter forth.
When she unfolded the paper, she saw very little written inside.
Dear Lady Cecelia Flannery,
Make ready for the ball this evening. I shall chaperone you as honourably as I am able.
Sincerely
His Grace
The Duke of Cumberland
Lord George Ellsworth
Cecelia blinked several times, unable to believe what she had just read. She read it over and over until the words made even less sense.
“Well? What is it?” her mother demanded, and when she glanced up, all three of them were staring at her expectantly.
Cecelia's heart pounded. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable to find the words.
Catherine was the one to snatch the letter from her hand.
It seemed that when she read it, she found no trouble as Cecelia did, for she announced, “He is to be her chaperone at the debut ball this evening!”
“My goodness!” their mother exclaimed. “Well, Cecelia, you must hurry. You must make haste to be ready. There is little time!”
Cecelia cringed, perching forward on her seat. “Mother, please, calm yourself. You are unwell. I should not be leaving you in such a state.”
“Me? I am as healthy as a horse, dear,” her mother insisted, straightening up in the bed. She grabbed Mary's hand beforeCecelia could make any further protests and instructed, “Go with her. Help her to prepare.”
“Mother, I cannot—”
Her mother turned on her with such a serious look that it made the words wilt on her tongue.
“You can and youwill,” she insisted firmly, “this is the moment we have all been waiting for, and it was your father's very last wish.”
“That was before, Mother,” Cecelia protested even as Mary jumped off the bed and came to pluck her from the chair. “Father would never wish me to leave you whilst you are ill.”
“I have Catherine and Mary for company,” her mother pointed out. “And it is your responsibility to take care of us all.”
The weight of responsibility her mother had just placed on her shoulders was almost too much to bear.
“Go,” her mother insisted, waving her out of the room even as Mary urged her towards the door.
Cecelia could not bring herself to argue with her mother any further, but she and Mary were only halfway down the hall when she dug her heels in and twisted her hand free of Mary's.
“I … I don't think I can do this,” she stammered, her eyes tight shut. “Why did he change his mind?”
Her mind was spinning, her heart pounding. She was almost certain she might vomit.
Everything had changed so terribly fast. And why? She had no idea why.
