Page 13 of A Wild English Rose
She would have to hope that Thomas would keep to his form and not have a full understanding of the intricacies of what constituted a day gown, as opposed to an evening gown. She could just picture her mother softly tut-tutting at such a social faux pas.
She answered the knock at her bedroom door and found Thomas standing in the hallway. Her heart sank. He was dressed in full formal dinner attire.
His gaze fell to her gown and he smiled. “Lady Cecily, you look wonderful.”
Cecily took his offered hand and returned his smile, silently saying a prayer of thanks to his parents for having raised their son so well. If he had noticed anything amiss with her manner of dress, it was clear he was not going to make mention of it.
Thoughts of her own evening attire faded to the back of her mind as her gaze roamed over Thomas’s black tailcoat and trousers. They were an achievement in both fabric and tailoring. His silver waistcoat was highlighted with pearl and silver buttons, an understated but excellent complement to his pure white linen shirt and skillfully tied cravat.
Gone was the simple country squire; in his place stood an example of elegant male perfection.
She felt her heart skip a beat.
“I thought since there is just the two of us that we could dine in one of the smaller rooms tonight. That is of course if you are comfortable with a more intimate setting. If not, I shall instruct the staff to set out places at either end of the main dining table,” he said.
For a moment, Cecily was rendered speechless, her mind still taking in the surprise of the well turned out Thomas Rosemount.
She finally managed a brief nod. “Good.”
In an upstairs sitting room, a small table had been set for the two of them. The bottle of champagne gifted to them by the owner of the George Hotel sat in the middle of the table, with two full champagne glasses to one side.
Thomas nodded toward the bottle. “I thought we could share our wedding champagne tonight. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
He handed a nervous Cecily her glass. She took a tentative sip, conscious that this may be the only opportunity that she would ever get to enjoy a wedding toast.
He lifted his glass and saluted her. “To happiness and love, Cecily. May you find them both in abundance.”
A lump formed in her throat at his words. She doubted happiness would ever find her, let alone love. With no future left with her family, she would settle for security and a roof over her head.
“And to you, Thomas. I am glad I met you. As we say in Ireland,slàinte!” she replied.
Wherever her future lay, she would be forever grateful to have had such a friend as him to help put her foot on the first stepping stone to a new life.
Chapter Thirteen
Thomas did not sleep well that night. After spending the afternoon showing the estate grounds to Cecily, and the private supper they had shared, he knew his heart was in trouble.
He lay in bed until the early hour before dawn, staring up at the ceiling. She was a breath of fresh air in his life. Someone who had stepped into his quiet existence and swept away all the cobwebs which had been gathering.
When he finally rose, having managed an hour or so of sleep at best, he headed down to the stables. Somewhere over a bottle of Burgundy late the previous evening, he had offered to take her riding this morning, with the added promise of a visit to the local village of Thorney. Not surprisingly, Cecily had immediately accepted.
As he arrived at the stables, riding gloves in hand, he sensed trouble. Cecily was standing, hands on hips, arguing with the stable master.
“I am not riding sidesaddle. You need to change the saddle, and while you are at it, give me a better horse. I am not riding that one,” she said.
Thomas hastened to her side. “Good morning. What seems to be the problem?”
She turned to him and huffed. “I don’t ride sidesaddle, and you know that I am more capable a rider than warrants a middle-aged mare. Would you please speak to your man?”
The stable master met Thomas’s gaze. His country attire belied his near genius understanding of horses. But Thomas knew the stable master well enough to be certain that a hot-headed noble woman was beyond his skills to negotiate with.
“Put a standard saddle on Black Ace and bring him out here,” ordered Thomas.
The stable master looked from Thomas to Cecily, then frowned. Thomas pointed toward the stable.
“And make it quick. Lady Cecily and I have a few places to visit this morning.”
“Thank you,” she said.
