Page 53 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
Cecilia drew back when Daphne scowled. “And? What is it?” she asked.
“Heavens above, it happened.” Daphne gasped and slapped Cecilia on the shoulder. “I can see it in your eyes! You have not come to visit me but confess your sin. Cecilia, I cannot believe you!”
“My sin?” Cecilia glanced around them. She had no interest in lying to Daphne, having come for advice, but she did not want to involve all Hapthorn in her melodrama if she could avoid it. She dropped her voice to a whisper.
“Whatever you think to spy in my eyes must be discussed indoors.Please, Daphne,” she begged. “Not here.”
“Goodness, it must be true then.”
Daphne’s glower slowly softened, and her face lightened with a knowing grin. “All right! You’ve no need to twist me around your little finger with those sad, sinful eyes of yours. I will have them sort some tea for us.” She threaded her arm through Cecilia’s and guided her to the entrance. “As far away from mother as possible.”
*
“Why do you not sit down and tell me what happened?”
Cecilia glanced around the drawing room, trying to find some bravery in the timeworn wallpaper and crown moulding.She squinted at a baroque piece over the fireplace, where a man and a woman seemed to be fighting or making love, she could not decide. The marquess was a renowned philistine, so these must have belonged to Daphne’s mother, who certainly had a flair for the dramatic.
Glancing back at Daphne, she nodded toward the door. Her friend shut it as soon as the maids left with the tea caddy and heaved a great impatient sigh.
“I feel I have not the first idea where to begin,” Cecilia murmured. She lowered herself onto the settee and the velvet cushions kicked up dust.
“You could begin by saying aloud what we both know to be true.” Daphne stared at Cecilia wide-eyed, almost sardonically. She picked up her delicate albeit chipped teacup and moved to the window, her back turned to the dimly lit drawing room. “For fact I should be glad to hear you say it.”
“I am pleased to know that my misfortune brings you so much joy.”
“Not joy, Cecilia,” Daphne admonished. “Entertainment, and a great deal of worry.” She sipped audibly. “You lay with your father’s steward . . .”
“I lay with my father’s steward,” Cecilia repeated like a child in the schoolroom, “and it was perhaps the silliest thing I’ve ever done, though I enjoyed it more than I can put into words. It happened so quickly while feeling like a thing a year in the making. Now I am ravaged with more guilt than I feel I have room for in my stores.”
“Of course I foresaw this coming, but to hear it with my own ears is something else altogether.” Daphne hummed in contemplation. “What a bother this all is! He did not force himself on you, then?”
“Goodness, no! Everything was consensual. Raphael would never behave so cruelly. He is not like that.”
“Raphael, is it?” Daphne’s slippers clicked against the hardwood as she circled around the settee. She wedged herself between Cecilia and the coffee table and picked up Cecilia’s teacup, motioning for Cecilia to take it. “Drink your brew, as my father says, and have a shortbread. Heaven forfend you starve yourself on account of this!”
“Have I ruined myself?” Cecilia asked weakly. The teacup clattered against the saucer as she took it. The scents of black tea, bergamot, and lemon wafted into her face.
“That would depend on who you ask. I shall not lie to you, we could make the case for you having ruined your purity. That sort of thing does not exactlygrow back,from what I gather.”
Cecilia thumbed the rose-patterned saucer and set it back down. She wrung her trembling hands in her lap, assailed by the same thoughts that had kept her up all night. She did not regret what had happened with Mr Travers.
She could not have chosen a more decent man with whom to share the most intimate part of herself. But the consequences of her actions were not as easy to swallow. Her guilt was all-consuming, without beginning nor end.
“I more so meant my character, Daphne. I have no qualms about accepting what happened between Raphael and me. To my mind, my maidenhead was mine to give as I pleased, despite what theTonand Good Book profess. I find the whole concept of purity ludicrous.”
“That makes two of us.”
“But what does this say about my discipline? What does it say about my loyalty?”
“Your loyalty to whom? To your family?” Daphne scoffed and sat on the coffee table. She leaned forward and took Cecilia’s hands. “Oh, Cecilia. My question is this: why should they ever find out?”
Cecilia’s hands felt too warm and restless inside Daphne’s, but she was grateful for the gesture. She focused on them a moment too long, deliberating Daphne’s suggestion. “I had not thought of telling them.”
“I thought as much, but from the way you were speaking . . . If Mr Travers is as gentlemanly as you say, it seems to me that he will not reveal the truth of yourtendresseeither. Not to mention the small fact of his being employed by your father.
We both know that the duke is a gentle man who would never bring himself to harm him, want to strangle him though he might, but even his tolerance has limits. And I fear this will do it. To my mind, Mr Travers shall want to stay in his good graces and do nothing to risk his position regardless. Bury the secret and be done with it, I say.”
Nodding, Cecilia tried to find it in herself to agree. There was more to consider than their secret, however, much more. “If I do that, would I not bury all hope for us with it?”
