Page 39 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
“Tell the story again,” Daphne pleaded. “Oh, please, Cecilia! Please!”
Cecilia looked up from her book. Daphne was staring at her from the floor with wide kitten eyes, her hands tucked under her chin like a woeful poppet.
“How are you not tired of hearing it? I have recounted the,” she stopped to check the doorway to the solar was clear, “kissfour times since yesterday.”
“I will never tire of the tale. It has everything one could want! An unsuspecting damsel, a cunning hero, a monster dressed like an owl, and a gorgeous confidante named Daphne.” She gesticulated wildly with each element she introduced.
“Does your fictional confidante also share a dress with her nemesis?”
Daphne dropped her arms, and they slapped against her sides. “Why would you say something so cruel when we were having so much fun?” She snatched the cushion from beneath Cecilia’s head and hugged it. “If you think about it, you have me to thank for your great love affair.”
“I am eager to know why you believe that to be true.”
“Am I not the one who forced your paths to cross by asking you to get to know Mr Travers better? I think I am. I think,” she paused for emphasis, “you owe me one.”
“One what?” Cecilia asked. She stopped reading and whipped her head around. “Onelover? I do not think so. You are as selective as they come, and I am hardly a provisioner of fine gentlemen. Unless you have a mind to take Radcliff off my hands.”
Daphne grimaced in disgust. “I was not thinking of Radcliff.”
Cecilia recognised familiar footfalls in the corridor. She tapped Daphne on the shoulder and the girls straightened up. They neatly placed their teacups on the trolley and stacked Daphne’s sheet music into piles. Cecilia dusted off her morning gown for crumbs, cringing as they fell between the locks in her mother’s sheepskin rug.
As expected, her father appeared in the doorway with Edward. He raised a hand to quiet his son and outstretched his arms to hug Cecilia. Her first instinct was to run, but she allowed herself to be embraced by him.
Embraced? Squeezed within an inch of my life?
“Good morning to you as well,” she wheezed, wriggling free. “Has the success of your ball put you in this good mood?”
“Success?” The duke glanced at Edward and grinned. “Success, indeed! She knows it! Egad, my darling daughter. There has never been a prouder father than I.”
It almost felt like a trick, but Cecilia decided to play along. She greeted Edward as he stalked into the room, inspecting their trolley for leftover sweetmeats. He picked up the uneaten half of Daphne’s éclair, not bothering to acknowledge her presence.
“How did you enjoy the ball last night, brother?” Cecilia asked coyly. “You were in and out of Lantham House like a whippet.”
Edward smiled sarcastically, wielding his éclair like a pointer. “The merrymaking was too much for me, and I retired early. Regardless, one must assume I enjoyed myself well enough. Wouldyouhave considered me decent company, sister?”
“The best company,” Cecilia lilted, recalling Raphael.
“What a shame you were not able to secure a valentine for yourself, Lord Edward,” Daphne muttered, turning from them to look out the window.
Edward’s face flushed, but Cecilia could not fathom why.
“You missed something special,” her father declared abruptly. He was mulling over the day before’s issue ofThe British Press. “Our Cecilia danced four times with Lord Radcliff. Numerous were those who called them ‘a match made in heaven.’”
“We danced twice, Papa.”
“It may as well have been four. He may as well have asked for your hand then and there. A proposal is imminent. I can feel it in my bones. He is absolutely, utterly, irrevocably smitten.”
“One more adverb and I might believe you, Father,” Edward joked. He slumped onto the chaise-longue Cecilia had been occupying. “I am keen to hear what Cece has to say about him.”
“My opinion of Radcliff is unchanged,” she declared, handing Edward a serviette for his sticky fingers. “We danced twice because I had no choice! Oh, but let us not discuss this. Mama promised I would have time to make up my mind. I see no reason to rush things until we are returned to the country, at the least.”
“That may be sooner than you think,” Edward said.
Cecilia crossed her arms. “What are you on about now?”
“Your mother and I have decided to venture back up to Norfolk for the time being. Anthony has become terribly attached to the family seat in Parliament, and I see no reason to disturb him.” Her father barely lifted his eyes from his newspaper, but he gave an unconvincing cough. “Besides, this London air does nothing for my poor lungs.”
“What of the season?” Cecilia cried. “What of Mama’s desperate quest to find matches for myself and Edward?”
