Hearing the excitement in Agnes’s voice as she spoke animatedly with their mother and the dowager duchess was a bit of comfort, however. Nothing brought Cecily more joy than knowing that her sister was happy. Cecily really believed that she could suffer any burden, so long as her sister could live the best, happiest life possible.
However, she also knew that Agnes would suffer embarrassment as a result of her illness. It was an unfair trade for being Cecily’s sister. Thetonwould see Agnes as nothing more than the sister of a shameful invalid. Thus, Cecily vowed that she would say or do nothing more during the evening to call attention to herself. Even if it meant she seemed standoffish.
She nearly dropped her fork, but luck was with her. She managed to grip it tightly with her fingers before it even tickled against her plate or the top of the table. The conversation around her did not skip a beat, and she nearly cried with relief. But she knew that she needed to get her focus elsewhere, lest she not be so lucky next time. She tapped her meal gently with her fork and took another bite as she willed her thoughts to steady.
As she did, something she had so far missed occurred to her. She could hear the voices of everyone else, apart from the Duke. In fact, other than the toast he had given, Cecily did not think she had heard him say a single word. Was he unhappy at having a disabled guest? Did he not know how to engage with a handicapped person?
“Her Grace tells us that you spent some time away in the Far East, my Lord Duke,” the Earl said as though reading her mind. “How is it out there? I have not had the pleasure of traveling there myself, but I would love the opportunity.”
Cecily turned her head in the direction of where the Duke was sitting. She, too, was interested in his stories of the Far East. Her father had told Cecily and her sister many tales of France but never of the Far East. She reminded herself to look at the Duke and keep quiet, wearing a small, polite smile.
“It is rather different from London, to be sure,” the Duke said. Cecily focused on his voice. It was warm and rich and carried no boredom or malice. It did sound uncertain, however, as though he was nervous or uneasy speaking to his guests. “I did not venture much outside of the village of Eenia, which is where my cottage is.”
The Earl murmured with curious approval, sounding as though he was swallowing a bite of food.
“It must be very pleasant to conduct business from such a small, peaceful place,” he said.
Cecily imagined a quaint little cottage in a small, quiet village. She thought it would, indeed, be a good place to conduct business.
There was a brief silence, and Cecily guessed that the duke nodded.
“It is rare that one has business associates willing to travel to such a small place to discuss deals and ventures,” he said.
For a moment, the air was very tense and awkward, as though everyone was holding their breath. What had happened? The Duke had said nothing out of line, he was so distant. Was she reading the atmosphere wrong?
Before she could pipe up and say something to test the situation, some people entered the dining hall. It only took a moment for her to realize that the footmen had returned to serve dessert. She stifled a moan. It was beginning to feel as thought the meal would stretch out forever. But she remained silent and smiling politely as they served plates of flan.
She swallowed two bites of hers, momentarily distracted from the awkwardness by the delicious treat. But when the Duke fell silent again while the conversation carried on without him once more, Cecily was reminded of how strange things felt. She was good at reading people, but she could read nothing about him. Why would he agree to have guests for dinner if he had no real interest in interacting with them?
Just as she was reaching the decision that she could no longer pretend that she wasn’t feeling out of her mind, yet another person entered. From his woodsy scent, she determined that it was the butler.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tea will be served in the drawing room and the parlour now,” he said.
Cecily let out a breath which, thankfully, everyone was too busy pushing aside plates and rising from their seats to hear. Agnes, of course, was right by her side in an instant, but Cecily shook her head and gave her sister a toothy smile.
“I will be fine,” she said as she eased out of her own chair.
She could practically hear Agnes’s brow furrow and her head shake.
“This is not like at home,” she whispered. “You do not know where the furnishings are here. I am happy to help you, Sister. I could not bear to see you trip and get hurt.”
Cecily thought for a moment. It would be very telling if she went stumbling into everything. But it would be equally attention grabbing if she were hanging onto her sister. That was the part that always frustrated her whenever she did join her family for social gatherings outside of their own mansion.
With a sigh, she held her arm out to Agnes.
“Just please,” she begged, still whispering. “Do not lead me around like a blindfolded child. Simply walk casually with me as though we are just expressing our close bond.”
Cecily could feel Agnes sigh with relief.
“Of course, I will, Sister,” she said, linking her arm firmly through her sister’s.
Cecily kept smiling, using every bit of her remaining vision to keep her eyes forward and on the bits of her surroundings that she could see. She stepped carefully but deliberately, praying that no one was watching her as she slowly walked with her sister. Miraculously, she did not bump into anything, and she reached the parlor without incident.
She said a silent prayer of gratitude as Agnes helped her sit down beside her on what felt like a sofa. Immediately, someone approached them.
“Would you like some champagne?” a soft, meek voice asked.
Cecily smiled up at what she now realized was a footman and nodded.
