She stiffened, “It was not to me.”
“I’ve apologized countless times.”
“The ton called meClub Foot Ceciliafor months,” she hissed.
“Do you want me to write my apology in the sky?” Cassian asked.
“Yes,” she said firmly while dipping out another curtsy and moving off. “And fetch me a hunk of cheese from the moon to go with my supper, too.”
As she walked away, she felt his hot gaze shiver over the back of her neck, his gaze as piercing as a scalpel. Bereft, she went to join Emma and Rosie at the sidelines and sank to a chair with a huff. She was on the verge of crying.
She dimly reacted when Rosie gestured for a footman to come to them and startled when he handed her a glass of champagne. “Your Grace,” he bowed.
Thatcut even deeper.
“I’m not a duchess,” she snapped.
“My apologies, my lady,” the footman bowed lower.
Emma piped up again. “What do you think about my suggestion, to send His Grace the note to meet you?”
Rubbing her eyes, Cecilia nodded, “We can do that. At this point, I do not see what else can go wrong.”
CHAPTER 2
“Cecilia, sweetheart…” Rosie dropped her voice, “You might want to leave off the sherry. You are looking quite piqued, and people are watching.”
The disparaging glances, raised brows, and secret smirks behind the champagne flutes and snickers behind fans were like pointed arrows, ready to fly.
They were not going to make their mark as she deflected them with stony composure. Years of experience had taught her that her best defense in such situations was to look past them as if they were nothing and smile. Nothing could get under one’s skin if one did not let it.
All through supper and the dancing afterward, she’d kept a brave face, never letting her smile slip even in the face of subtle—and not so subtle— snubs.
“Nonsense, I am fine,” she waved her friend away.
“He’s dancing with Molly Attenborough again,” Cecilia noted dully.
“Ah, yes, the American dollar princess with new industrial money,” Rosie bit. “She just arrived from Virginia and has taken all her flirtyAmerican mannerismswith her.”
“And monopolized the attention of all the lords around us,” Emma grumbled. “Who knew building railroads and dealing in steelworks was such a profitable industry?”
That is it!
Calling a footman to her side, Cecilia asked, “Can you ask her ladyship to assist me with a card and a pen? I have an urgent message to send to someone.”
The man bowed, “At once, my lady.”
With both Rosie and Emma soon twirling on the dance floor, she was all alone. Quickly, but carefully, she wrote out the note on the tray, then stood—and staggered a little.
“Maybe Rosie was right about the sherry,” she mumbled as she skirted the floor.
Sighting Gabriel in a trio of lords, she gestured vaguely in his direction, “Please give this note to His Grace when the set breaks.”
Heading to the stairs, she held on to make sure she did not slip, then headed upstairs. From there, it did not take her long to get to the display room she knew the Dowager Countess had under construction and found a chair to wait.
“I need to tell him…” she whispered. While blinking at the doubling walnut cases away from her sight, she mumbled the words she wanted to tell Gabriel the moment he walked through the door.
“Why are we not married yet!” She practiced, then huffed. “That sounds like a shrew or a fishwife. No, I need to be calmer—” Dropping her tone, she tried for calm. “Dear Gabriel, please may I inquire as to why we are not yet married?”
