“Time that I do not have, Your Grace!” she hissed back at him, feeling the turmoil in her gut grow to unbelievable heights. “My father wished me married by the end of the Season, and in only one day, you have scared off every man.”
“A handful, perhaps,” his grace protested, ringing his gloved hands together. Cecelia couldn’t help noticing the thickness of those hands, muscular and well-defined..
He had been a soldier, and beyond that, he had always been working with his hands, refusing to listen to his father when he insisted that there were servants for just about any task he might have in mind.
Cecelia had watched him many a time working with those hands, learning to carve wood, teaching himself how to tie knots, skinning animals after hunting. And now, she was placed in those hands, forced to bend at the will of a man who clearly did not wish to see her married at all if this was his reaction to her accusations.
“Eight, Your Grace, there were eight gentlemen in my drawing room, and not one remained for more than five minutes with you in the room,” Cecelia said, remembering how they had scattered like frightened rabbits when he revealed their various misdemeanours.
“Cecelia, his grace is doing his duty by your father,” her mother insisted, putting down her own cutlery as if she had lost her appetite. “If he had been here himself, I am certain he would have done the very same.”
“Father would have at least allowed me an entire conversation with a man,” Cecelia protested, turning her angry gaze on her mother. “He would have sat quietly and listened to all they had to say, and then he might have told me afterwards what his thoughts were on the matter, but heneverwould have openly snubbed a man for all to see.”
“Forgive me, My Lady, if I was hoping to save us all a little time by frightening off the riff raff,” his grace said, and his words made her look at him again. His expression was entirely unreadable as he added, “You have said it yourself that you have little time to find a husband. I was merely ensuring you did not waste any of it on the wrong suitors.”
“Don’t!” Cecelia snapped at him. She grabbed her serviette from her lap and slammed it down on the table. “Do not act as if anything you did was for me.
It was all for you, all for your constant need to prove your power over other people. Well, you did it, Your Grace. You are the mighty duke, and nobody can stand against you. Are you happy? You have entirely sabotaged my marriage prospects, and it only took you the matter of one afternoon.”
His grace baulked at that.
“That was most assuredly not my intention, Lady Cecelia,” he said. He leaned forward, his hand upon the table almost as if he meant to reach for her.
“You may have everyone else fooled, Your Grace,” Cecelia insisted, “but I can see your self-importance from a mile away. Though I do not understand why you would wish to see me suffer so.”
Their gazes met, and for a second, everyone else in the room seemed to disappear.
There was nothing but Cecelia’s anger and the hurt in the duke’s eyes; nothing but the sound of her rapid breathing. And seeing the way he pursed his lips, his expression suggested he was trying to come up with something to say.
“Cecelia, enough,” her mother put in, causing her to blink, and when she opened her eyes again, the duke had taken his gaze from her. Something akin to disappointment flared in Cecelia’s gut. She had rather hoped to let all of this anger out upon him. “You ought to be thanking his grace for safeguarding you so diligently.”
“I need no thanks, My Lady,” his grace told her, and Cecelia scoffed. Every nobleman in the country loved to hear his praises sung, and his grace was no different.
Before Cecelia could suggest so, her mother added, “Besides, there will be many more opportunities for you to meet the right gentleman. There is Lady Ashmore’s garden party coming up, and I have invitations to more than one luncheon and several balls. There are bound to be more invitations arriving by the day.”
Cecelia’s insides twisted in knots at that. Though she was prepared for such things, she still couldn’t say she was entirely pleased to have to attend every single society event to find herself a husband. A part of her had almost hoped that the debut ball would be enough.
It was a stupid thing to hope. After all, she wasn’t about to go and marry the first man who set his cap towards her just because he had, but at least the ball had given her prospects, prospects that were entirely gone now, thanks to the duke.
The look in her mother’s eye warned her not to bring up the subject again, and so instead, she forced herself to think of something else.
“Regarding Lady Ashmore’s garden party, I think it would be a good idea if Lady Mary were to attend with me,” she said, and her sister’s response was quite immediate.
The choking sound from Mary was enough to make Cecelia chuckle, her anger ebbing somewhat as she turned her attention to her sister.
“I beg your pardon?” Mary exclaimed, looking at her with wide eyes that suggested just how frightened she was by the prospect. “I don’t think I am ready for any such thing.”
“It isn’t a ball,” Cecelia insisted. “It is only a garden party, and there are many families invited. It would be good for you to make some connections, especially if you hope to debut next Season.”
“No, no,” Mary shook her head. “I could never.”
“Well, I would happily attend,” Catherine put in, and she picked up the small ribbon of flowers that had been decorating her serviette before she had placed it upon her knee. Fashioning it into a corsage upon her wrist, she looked at them all and said, “I would happily go in Mary’s place if she is too frightened.”
“I am not frightened!” Mary protested, glowering back at her sister.
His grace did not look in the least bit uncomfortable as the two ladies sitting on either side of him started their bickering. In fact, he looked quite at ease, if not a little amused.
“You are. Whenever someone mentions your debut, you shut up like a clam!”
