Page 67 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
“I take it from your silence that you are coming around to the idea,” Radcliff said. “Good.”
“Not good,” Cecilia snapped back. She collected herself, raising her chin defiantly. “I say nothing because I have no answer to give. You have said time and time again that it matters not what I want. Why waste my breath?”
“So be it.”
Slowly, Radcliff straightened up.
“Lady Cecilia, I am asking for your hand in marriage. As I am sure you are aware, I ask to receive this blessing with the approval and encouragement of His Grace, who would not be happier, I believe, than to see us joined in marriage.
I imagine you will not want to pronounce yourself for me immediately, and I accept that. I plan to travel to London to check on my house and will depart this afternoon. By the time I am returned, however, youwillhave an answer for me.”
Like a tidal wave she had seen coming, his question ravaged her. It was notjusta question of course, but an ultimatum. Cecilia could not deny him, he had made that much crystal clear. By asking her for her hand, he had done only one thing: reaped Cecilia of her maidenhood in the eyes of her father.
*
Raphael held his head in his hands. The time was fast approaching eleven o’clock, which meant he had been waiting two hours for his meeting with the duke to begin. He had pored over the ledgers he had brought with him three times over, and he was about to leave when the door whined open.
He shot to his feet but promptly sat back down. Edward offered a sheepish smile and nudged the door shut.
“Not happy to see me?” the lord asked. He crossed the room and sat opposite Raphael at the reading table. “I suppose you will want to know where my father is.”
“Ideally, yes,” Raphael drawled. He balanced his pencil between his thumb and forefinger before snapping it up. “Should not complain. I get paid by the hour.”
“Right you are,” Edward said through a chuckle. He sobered quickly. “I just came to check on you, really, to see how you are faring . . . to see whether you’ve thought anymore about my offer.”
If Raphael heard anymore about Lord Edward’s offer he was going to lose his mind. After last night, Raphael had dashed away all thoughts of the continent, knowing nothing could compare to the bliss of having Cecilia in his bed, more importantly in his life.
They had spoken honestly to one another, or as honestly as Raphael could manage. It had given him hope that they could carry on as they were, so long as he adhered to the rules set out by Pincher.
He looked away, feeling embarrassed at the thought. What life was that for a man, living under someone else’s thumb?
“My answer is the same as it was last night,” Raphael said at last.
“So . . . ‘I do not know’?” Edward scoffed. “Brilliant. You are about as fickle as my sister. I am not sure what more I can say to tempt you, good man. Between thepalazzo’s, and thevino’s,and thebella donna’s. . . most men would be frothing at the mouth for the chance to escape Norfolk.”
“With all due respect, anyone would think you could not wait to see the back of me,” Raphael joked. To be fair, it was only half a joke. He could not understand why Edward kept forcing the issue, unless he meant to slight his father by swiping the steward from under his nose.
“That is not it, Travers. Egad, that is reallynotit.” Edward sat back and looked off thoughtfully. “I like you, Travers. I think you are a decent fellow. I find myself wanting what is best for you.”
“Have I done anything to deserve that?”
“Pah! You wish.” Edward chuckled darkly.
“The truth is that I cannot stand most people, not in England nor anywhere else. When I meet someone that I can tolerate, I do not take their friendship for granted. I’ve no care for whether you find your place here or in Italy, but I should like to help you in any way I can. Speaking of which . . .” Edward leaned forward. “There is something we must discuss.”
Raphael barely had the time to digest Edward’s sentiment, let alone agonizeover his foreboding final sentence, as the doorknob turned and the door opened anew. Raphael did not bother standing up but he should have, as the duke entered. He was swiftly followed by the Earl of Radcliff.
“Your Grace,” Raphael said, nodding. “Here I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”
“Nothing like that, I assure you. Still, I apologise for the delay. Pressing matters! Very pressing!” The duke turned to his son. “What are you doing here?”
“It warms my heart to know you are always so glad to see me, Father.” Edward scooted his chair back. “Travers, why do we not have that chat elsewhere?”
“Dismiss that,” the duke cut in. “Lord Radcliff and I have need of you.”
Radcliff perched himself at the end of the long table, his hands tucked between his legs. The duke stepped around him and settled behind Raphael, giving his shoulders a squeeze.
“You remember I mentioned properties in Radcliff?” he said quietly. “Now is the time for action, good fellow.”
