Page 71 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
Raphael had forgotten all about the bloody bag. “That was plan, I think. I love your sister, Lord Edward, but right now, I am just no good. I thought to stay the night at Norwich after the meeting with the solicitors, put some space between us. She should not see me like this.”
“It would be somewhat of a shock, of course. You would return in the morn?”
“I would return when it felt right.”
“And if it never felt right to return?”
Raphael answered nothing. With nothing more to be said, he returned to his ablutions. Edward made some passing comment about excusing him from work that afternoon, stating that the earl was travelling to London anyway and his father would have “tuckered himself out from all the excitement.”
“When all is said and done, this will all seem inconsequential,” Edward said at the door. “Chin up until then, Travers. Chin up and be happy.”
*
“I’ve just had a revelation,” Daphne exclaimed.
Cecilia peered over her canvas, grateful to be looking at something else. Having abandoned embroidery entirely, the girls had convinced their mother to let them take up a new craft, but Cecilia’s brushwork was leaving something to be desired. She wielded her paintbrush like a knife; the canvas was Radcliff’s face. Grinning, she encouraged Daphne to enlighten her.
“We are terrible at sewing, averagely talented at singing, most likely hopeless painters . . .” Daphne set her brush down, wiping her hands on her apron. “But do you know what we are good at? Being bad at things!”
“I am not sure that is the victory you think it is.” Cecilia followed suit and abandoned her painting. It was a lost cause anyway. “We are not terrible at all things. We are rather good gossipers.”
“Hm, right you are, Cece. With that in mind . . .” Daphne paused to dig into her pocket. “Would you like to read my Valentine’s Day cards?”
Cecilia agreed, despite the fact that Valentine’s was almost two weeks ago. It was for the best anyway.They were quickly losing the light. An unsettling blanket of clouds was approaching from the east.
They girls settled on the bench beneath the window in the art room, admiring the penmanship of some notes, comparing rhymes and illustrations. Whatever cards Cecilia had received she had discarded.
“I like the squiggly flowers on this one,” Ceceilia said. “I think it shows innovation, a creative mind.”
“I wish you had not said that. I am rather convinced Lord Herlon’s son penned that one, and I cannot stand him. His breath smells.” Daphne ripped it down the middle and handed Cecilia the rest.
Some of the cards were eerily similar, seemingly written by the same person. These cards were nicer than the others, less sickly in tone, more finely crafted. Cecilia checked the backs and fronts for initials, but they were blank.
“Who composed these, do you think? The poems are quite lovely.”
“Erm.” Daphne blew a raspberry. “It does not matter.”
Cecilia poked her in the ribs. “Are you hiding something from me? Lady Daphne Griffon! I do believe you have an admirer. Tell me, who is it?”
“Never you mind.” Daphne snatched the cards back.
“He is someone who has made his intentions clear, but who manages to delight and disappoint me from one day to the next. He can send me all the cards he likes, I will not fall for his tricks. And he’s shockingly normal, which is just boring.”
Cecilia tried to press her more, but Daphne knew how to quiet her. “Should we not be discussing your love life instead of mine?”
“You are no fun when things are not going your way.” Cecilia threw her hands in the air. “There is nothing to say regardless.”
“You are practically betrothed, Cecilia. I thought we established that Radcliff was a terrible cad who was not worthy of you. What changed?” She gasped. “What about Mr Travers?”
“Nothing has changed because nothing has happened. Lord Radcliff asked for my hand and I felt powerless to say anything at all. He is determined we will wed, and I am determined we will not, yet at every turn he undermines me. I must find a way to convince papa that Radcliff is not the one for me.”
And if I can achieve that by convincing him that Mr Traversisthe one for me, all the better.
Before she could say as much to Daphne, someone came stomping up the stairs. Appearing like a flash of lightning, Edward stopped in the archway and pointed at Cecilia.
“Would it kill you to stay in one place? I have been looking all over. The art room? Theartroom?!” He stopped to catch his breath, leaning against the arch. Cecilia did not fail to notice the specks of blood on the cuffs of his shirt. “You and I need to talk. Mr Travers is leaving, and we both know why.”
Cecilia was not sure what surprised her more: the mention of Mr Travers or the look of knowing in Edward’s eye. Either way, she was about ready to ask for a vinaigrette.
