“Yes,” she said. “I was just woolgathering.”
She put the bite of food in her mouth, pretending to savor it so that her mother would not ask anything else of her. She sensed that her mother and sister exchanged another of their glances, but they eventually began talking again. Cecily cursed herself. Could she be any more transparent that she was not fine?
When the meal ended, Agnes helped Cecily from her seat.
“Let us go to the drawing room,” she whispered to her sister.
Cecily stifled a groan. She had not fooled her mother and sister, after all. She knew that she was going to be questioned until she told them something. Perhaps, that would not be so bad. Maybe they could help her make sense of the issue and decide what to do. However, just as the sisters settled in the drawing room, their mother appeared in the doorway, accompanied by the butler and the overwhelming scent of fresh flowers.
“Lady Agnes,” the butler said. “The Marquess of Axton has arrived.”
Cecily gasped. She took another deep breath and, beneath the floral fragrance, she could smell something like crisp cinnamon. She understood immediately what was happening. Agnes was getting her very first gentleman caller.
Agnes rose quickly from beside her sister. Cecily could feel her anxiety, and she reached up and squeezed her sister’s hand reassuringly.
“I am so proud of you,” she whispered.
“What do I do?” Agnes whispered back frantically.
Cecily patted her hand before releasing it and nudging her sister forward.
“Just be Agnes,” she said softly.
The Marquess turned out to be a polite and kind, if bland, gentleman. He was a dandy wearing one of his finest French lilac long-tailed coats, brown breeches and top-boots. His very well tied neckcloth seemed like it would choke him.
Cecily sat silently, pretending to be focused on embroidery that she knew well she could not see as she listened to the interaction between her sister and the marquess. It was clear that Agnes was being polite, but that she was not interested in the man.
Cecily could not blame her, as he was rather boring. But Agnes conducted herself with all the grace and charm of a young high society debutante. And when he left, Cecily waited for her sister to return to the seat beside her and gave her a firm embrace.
“You did beautifully,” she said.
Agnes giggled.
“I am wicked,” she said. “But I do believe that he is the most boring man I have ever met.”
Cecily laughed along with her.
“I must agree,” she said. “They won’t all be that way, though. You’ll see.”
Cecily could feel Agnes preparing to object. But Charles entered once more and another unfamiliar scent wafted to Cecily’s nose, accompanied by the smell of fresh pastries.
“The Viscount Marendale for Lady Agnes,” he said.
Cecily could hear the enthusiasm in the butler’s voice. Clearly, he was enjoying seeing Agnes get callers just as much as she was. Beside her, she heard Agnes gasp softly. Cecily believed that meant he was at least handsome, and she could not help grinning.
She went back to her embroidery, biting her lip to hide a smile. The Viscount was far more interesting, and Cecily thought he was rather charming and funny, too. Agnes seemed more interested in him than she had been in the Marquess, and Cecily silently celebrated. The Viscount even engaged Cecily in pleasantries, which Cecily felt was gentlemanly of him.
By the time he took his leave about an hour later, Cecily was bursting with excitement for her sister. The exchange between her and the Viscount seemed to have gone very well, and Agnes had accepted when the viscount asked to call on her again soon.
“I believe there is something of a connection there,” she said as soon as the gentleman was gone.
Agnes sighed, and Cecily could feel the dark cloud move back over her sister.
“He was very sweet,” she said. “And he was certainly handsome. I rather enjoyed talking to him.”
Cecily nodded.
“I gathered as much,” she said. “When will you see him again?”
