Page 31 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
Cecilia shrugged one-shouldered, knowing he already had.
After dinner, her father escorted his peers into the billiard room. Anthony took off for the evening, failing to mention where he was going. Cecilia trailed after her mother, settling in the drawing room with Daphne and Edward by the fire.
Daphne was a more accomplished musician than Cecilia—which was not saying much—so it was decided that she would play for them that evening. She settled behind the pianoforte with a swish of her skirts, delighting Edward as she performed a piece from Beethoven’s 7thsymphony.
Cecilia relished the easy quiet until a knock sounded on the door. She did not bother looking up, knowing her mother had just rung the bell for tea. A smooth, deeply formal voice greeted the duchess and the rest, and a shiver ran down Cecilia’s spine. She tucked the family’s worn copy ofHamletunder a sofa cushion and shot to her feet as Raphael was invited inside.
Raphael spared a glance at Cecilia, his hat tucked beneath his arm. His jacket was of fine sartorial craftsmanship, his hair neatly oiled back. She bristled with jealousy at the thought that he had groomed himself for a rendezvous.
Edward gasped dramatically, gawking at the clock.
“Travers, good man! You will have to forgive me. I was oblivious to the passage of time before me. I shall make it up to you when we arrive at White’s.” Edward crossed the room, clapping Raphael on the shoulder. “Wait here for me while I call for a coat and carriage.”
“I have no desire to intrude, Your Grace,” Raphael said in Edward’s wake.
“Oh, dear Mr Travers! You are as welcome here as you are at Berilton Court,” the duchess assured him. She gestured for him to take the seat beside Cecilia. He complied and sat beside her awkwardly. Cecilia’s skin prickled over as she watched Raphael speak with her mother. “Has Lord Edward asked you to accompany him somewhere this eve?”
“He has.” Raphael cleared his throat. “Though it is not the sort of establishment a man should be discussing in front of such delicate company.”
He was putting on a performance, and it irked Cecilia to no end.
“We are not so delicate, Mr Travers. You have no need to shelter us from the truth,” Daphne protested, giving a flourish of the keys. She performed a bow from her stool. “My father is a patron at White’s, you know.”
“Mayhap we will run into him, my lady.”
“Not unless he has travelled to London without telling me.” She looked at Cecilia. “I suppose that would not be a first. All the better to spy on me! One can understand, of course. There is a world of trouble awaiting young ladies in London, if they are not careful to avoid it.”
Cecilia wrestled with a smile. Her friend was a minx.
“Why not perform something for Mr Travers, Daphne?” Cecilia asked. “Pianissimo.”
Daphne’s eyes shot skyward, but she resumed her playing.
A maid arrived with a tea trolley, and the duchess was quickly distracted by the caddy. Cecilia took the opportunity to scoot closer to Mr Travers, observing him from beneath her lashes.
“We have seen so little of each other today, Mr Travers.”
He smirked but quickly corrected himself. “I am no man of leisure, Lady Cecilia. I toil night and day to keep His Grace’s property in order.”
“It seems to me that you attend some parts of his property more attentively than others. Some other parts might grow jealous.” Her heart thrummed in her chest as she flirted with him, savouring their brush with danger.
“You and your parts…” Raphael shook his head, keeping one eye on the duchess. “You have not changed your mind?”
“No,” Cecilia whispered. “I doubt I could even if I wanted to.” Just like in the carriage, her hand crawled towards his of its own volition. “It seems you have, however, and I am glad. I want—”
“They have readied the horses for us, Mr Travers.”
Raphael shot up as Edward appeared at the door. “Right,” he breathed, marching toward Cecilia’s brother without looking back at her. She might have felt slighted had the room not shifted to stare at them.
Edward offered her a warning look as they left.
“Tell me again why I agreed to accompany you,” Raphael groaned, hoisting Edward’s arm over his shoulder.
The lord stumbled forward with a laugh, patting Raphael on the chest as he steadied himself. Darkly clad gentlemen were spilling from the doors of White’s, staggering down St. James’s Street towards their vehicles, cloaked by night. It had taken three hours for Lord Edward to have his fill of drink and whist—another two for Raphael to convince him to leave.
It was not the first time Raphael had joined Edward at White’s. He accepted the invitation gladly. It was impossible for him to secure entry alone. Raphael found it hard to believe that Edward had no suitable friends to bring with him, instead of his father’s steward.
He found it harder to believe that Edward enjoyed his company so much that he did not care about the glowers of nearby lords. Perhaps he was a pawn in Edward’s games, a tool with which to rile up his peers.
