Page 19 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
The carriage rumbled down the drive, and soon out of Norwich.
Lady Daphne was a voracious speaker. They had been travelling for about an hour when she finally decided to come up for air. The silence did not last long, and she quickly returned to regaling Cecilia with tales of her last trip to London. The maid, whom Raphael had learned was called Jane, had brought a book to occupy herself. Raphael cursed himself for having left his own distractions in his trunk.
Of course, nothing could compare to thedistractionsitting across from him. Lady Cecilia was being civil but quiet, staring out of the window as the roads hastened past in a blur of blue sky, thin clouds, and freshly tilled fields. She pressed her fingers over her mouth, covering the mole beneath her lips. Raphael wondered whether she had done so on purpose to punish him.
“Mr Travers,” Daphne called, twirling a lock of ginger hair around her finger, “you’re from London, are you not?”
“That is right, my lady.”
“Were you born in London or in Spain?”
Cecilia did not stir, but her eyes flashed open.
Raphael tried to hide his amusement. “In London, outside of Five Fields. My mother was Spanish but my father was a British navy man.”
“You must be intimately familiar with the city, I imagine. Perhaps you could show Lady Cecilia and me your favourite spots.”
“I am sure Mr Travers has more important business to attend to than chaperoning us around London,” Cecilia admonished before turning back to her sightseeing.
“What has brought the two of you to London anyway?”
Daphne cupped her face in her hands. “Visiting the duchess’s modiste! I will assume you have heard of the Valentine’s Day ball that the duke throws every year. Well, the duchess has offered her modiste’s services to us for the occasion.”
“On the condition we bring a gown back for her,” Cecilia added.
“We will be staying with Lord Anthony in the house in Mayfair.”
Cecilia looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Where will you be staying?”
“Wherever I can find lodgings.”
“Oh, that is so sad!” Daphne exclaimed, rolling her head back against the bench. She closed her eyes. A prelude to quiet. “I am sure there are rooms enough for you in Lantham House.”
Raphael parted his lips to protest, but Daphne began lightly snoring. Cecilia turned around at last and rose her hand to tap her on the shoulder and wake her.
“I am begging you, do not,” Raphael whispered.
Slowly, Cecilia lowered her hand.
“My lady,” he amended, and Cecilia let her hand fall in her lap.
A few minutes were passed in silence, and Raphael almost felt himself drifting off as well. He got the sense he was being watched, and he creaked open an eye. Sure enough, Cecilia was staring at him.
“Whatever it is, my lady, it can wait until after my nap.”
“My father places a great deal of trust in you.”
“All right, you have my attention.” He straightened up and glanced at Jane, who was sleeping as soundly as Daphne. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Why do you mention it?”
“Because I do notwant you to think that I forced myself upon you. It really was upon Papa’s urging that Daphne and I agreed to travel to London with you. He swore he would tell you himself, but it must have slipped his mind.”
“What does that have to do with trust?”
“Everything. The reason he was so eager for us make the trip now was because he was confident that you would do an excellent job at making sure we did not find ourselves in any sorts of hobbles while we were away. He does not have that sort of reassurance when we are here alone, or, heaven forfend, with Anthony.”
She licked her lips, and it almost killed him. “I only thought you should know.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
