Page 4 of Her Duke at Midnight
Adam said the words loudly and firmly, not so much to answer Bennett, but to remind himself.
“No romantic entanglements whatsoever.”
CHAPTER2
Cecily Wainwright,countess to the late Earl of Bissenden, swept a hand across the warm, soft fur of the latest stray she’d taken in. Bess responded by stretching her white paws and settling more firmly into her lap. The feline had been found by their London townhouse’s back door. The kitchen staff had soon alerted her, knowing of her tendency to take in creatures in need.
Many of the animals she’d taken in—including a dog with an injured paw and another cat who’d taken shelter from a storm in their back garden—she’d rehabilitated and found homes for with friends. But this cat had become her companion and comfort during the last few weeks in a way that made Cecily wish to keep her, no matter what future lay ahead.
And that was the difficulty. For the first time in her life, Cecily was not sure what came next. From girlhood, she’d been prepared for society, trained in etiquette, all of it leading to her all-important first Season. And she’d succeeded as her parents had hoped. She’d received a proposal from the Earl of Bissenden just a little over a month into her first Season.
Her life had never been the same from that moment. She’d learned the first hard lesson of her life. Following the rules didn’t ensure contentment, didn’t protect a lady from her husband’s dark moods, didn’t guarantee that her path in life was set and would not alter drastically.
But she’d made it through those experiences and the loss of her husband, and now freedom was just within her reach.
A knock at her sitting room door startled Cecily, but Bess barely twitched a whisker.
“Come in.”
Nora, the parlor maid, entered and approached, a silver tray in her hands. “From his lordship,” she said.
Cecily took the folded note gingerly. Her brother-in-law favored formality, even in his style of communication. The note was nothing more than a request that she come down to his study and speak to him. A request the maid could have conveyed with words just as easily.
“Thank you.” Cecily nodded.
The maid glanced at her empty teacup. “Anything else, my lady? Shall I bring up fresh tea?”
“No, but later I’ll appreciate it greatly.” Cecily offered the girl a smile, and another thought teased at her mind. “Will you look after her while I’m on my trip?”
Nora’s eyes immediately lit on Bess. She’d been the one to find her at the kitchen door and possessed as tender a heart for animals as Cecily did.
“Of course, my lady.”
“Perhaps keep her in the kitchen or belowstairs while I’m away.” Cecily flicked her gaze toward her sitting room door. “Out of the way of his lordship, in any case.”
“I understand,” Nora said quietly.
“Thank you.” Cecily nodded, and the maid departed.
The new Earl of Bissenden had not taken kindly to Bess or any of the other animals Cecily had taken in.
“You’ll come with me,” she assured Bess as she picked up the sleepy cat and settled her onto the rug before the fire. “Whenever I finally leave this house for good, you’ll come too.”
Cecily stood and glimpsed herself in the mirror above the mantel, patting her hair, though not a single dark strand was truly out of place.
She took a breath to steel herself, as she did before any encounter with her brother-in-law, and made her way downstairs.
Outside his study door, she squared her shoulders and summoned another deep breath, letting it out slowly as she stepped inside.
The scents of old books and cigar smoke assailed her the minute she crossed the all-too-familiar threshold, and her heart insisted on a ridiculous flutter. The room held too many memories.
You’re safe, she reminded herself.He’s gone.Indeed, two days prior had marked the official end of her year of mourning.
The study had once been her late husband’s favorite room in their London town house. He’d sequestered himself in it so often that she’d come to resent its book-lined walls and elegant mahogany furnishings in the early days of their marriage. Later, it had been the room he’d summon her to in order to berate or belittle her. It had taken Cecily years to realize that Archibald Wainwright was a man haunted by his own demons, and when they weighed heavily on him, he lashed out at whoever was near.
But it was his brother’s study now—his brother’s home more so than hers.
“Ah yes, Cecily. I did indeed wish to speak to you.” The current Earl of Bissenden glanced at her, then lowered his head and lifted a finger, very much as her governess used to do when she’d been a too-talkative child and interrupted a lesson. “One moment, if you please,” he added and then continued to examine the document on his blotter.
