Page 29 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
“Promise me that you will think about it.”
He liked this commanding side of Cecilia. Liked it so much he felt his body tense and quirk. “YouknowI will think about it.” He seized her chin between his thumb and forefinger, angling her head up. “That was your intent.”
She merely smiled.
The dark silhouette of Mr Travers faded from view. Cecilia turned from the carriage window, steadying her breath as Clemens drove for Lantham House.
She hadkissedRaphael, and he had kissed her back. Trapped in the carriage, it had been impossible to deny her longing for him. She fluttered her fingers over the places his mouth had been, then wiped away any remnant of his kiss.
Adjusting her bonnet and straightening out her freshly laundered wool pelisse, she prepared herself for her return home, knowing her first order of business would be to corner Mr Travers again as soon as possible, consequences be damned.
She alighted the carriage in the snow. Clemens brought in the boxes for her mother, and she rushed past the butler up the stairs to find Daphne. She was not in her room, nor in any of the rooms upstairs. Crestfallen, Cecilia marched back down the staircase, stopping halfway when she heard a familiar voice call her name.
“I do not think I have ever seen you run so fast,” Edward said, his hands on his hips. “Shot right past me as you came in. So much forhello.”
“Edward?” she gasped, blinking. The carpeted stairs crunched underfoot as she made her way down to him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying in Norfolk. Has something happened? Is it Papa?”
“Father is as he has always been. Deceptively healthy.” Edward pressed a kiss to her forehead, regarding her curiously. “See for yourself.”
He gestured for the main drawing room, and Cecilia peered inside. Her mother was sitting on the chaise-longue by the fire, speaking with her lady’s maid. Her father was looming before the window, still sporting his travelling coat. The duke sensed her and turned.
“She returns!” Her father waved her inside. “Egad, where have you been?”
“Where, indeed?” Edward echoed sardonically.
“My love, come and sit with me,” the duchess said. Cecilia sunk into the chaise-longue beside her, dazed. “I have missed you more than I can say. Have you been well-behaved for your brother?”
Cecilia laughed nervously. “Why have you come to London? Why haveallof you come?”
Edward slumped into the sofa opposite her. “Say you are not glad to see us and I will ride back up the way I came. It would save me the trouble of suffering Anthony.”
The duchess clucked and patted Cecilia’s knee. “Your father has decided to host his Valentine’s Day ball in London instead of at Berilton. Is that not exciting?”
“Exciting!” Cecilia repeated with mock enthusiasm, still digesting her family’s untimely apparition. “But it is been held at Berilton Court for years, and Valentine’s Day is only a week away. Are you quite certain you can prepare everything on time?”
Her father’s countenance was half-draped in snowy light. “Anthony has been making arrangements in my stead. Begrudgingly. Hosting the ball in London saves us travelling back to Norwich and down again for the season. That is to say nothing of the improved guest list.”
“Does that mean you are staying for good?” Cecilia asked, masking her horror.
“Well, there is no point in delaying the London Season further.” Her mother grabbed her by the shoulders to hug her. “We have three matches to make—”
Edward gave a burst of laughter. “Three wills to break, you mean.”
Her mother ignored him. “How romantic would it be to secure them on Valentine’s Day?”
Cecilia squirmed out of her mother’s hold, needing to divest herself of her coat. She said as much and travelled to the entrance hall, seeking the butler. She was hardly a seasoned actress. There were only so many smiles she could force before her family caught wind of her misdoings. Her mother’s mention of matches made guilty bile rise in her throat.
She started as an icy draught wrapped around her ankles. The front door closed with a bang, commanding her attention. Anthony and Daphne were standing with the butler, having just come inside. Behind them was Mr Travers. The shoulders of his jacket were flecked with fresh snow.
Cecilia blushed furiously, but neither of them spoke a word.
“Are you leaving?” Anthony asked, scowling. He threw his coat at one of the footmen. “You are dressed for an outing.”
“Would that I could leave,” Cecilia mumbled. Her fingers hovered above her buttons. “Father and mother are returned. As I am. Yes, recently returned from my outing.” She pressed her lips together. “Alone.”
“I know they are back.” Antony trudged towards her, shaking his head. “Dreadful, is it not?”
“Where were you?”
