Lady Cecily and the Mysterious Mr. Gray Read online

  ‘But I do care, my dear. I care very much what might happen to you—and the strains it would put on any marriage—if you are rejected by any in society.’ He laid his hand against her cheek, regret in his eyes. ‘I also must consider the impact on the rest of the family, Cecy. In case you have forgotten, it is not only Olivia’s come out, but Nell’s, too. Rosalind has high hopes of her sister making a good match and she is already anxious about her own background tainting the family name. And there are the boys to think of as well. Dominic, I know, wishes to look high for a bride.’ He hesitated, then said, very deliberately, ‘He knows his duty to the family.’

  Resentment at that unfairness scoured her throat. ‘I have always put our family first, Leo. You know I have. What about Rosalind’s background? And Thea’s? They are hardly from the upper echelons of society.’

  ‘That is different. A wife is elevated to enjoy the status of her husband. You know that. Besides, Graystoke is but six-and-twenty. He is too young for you.’

  ‘Young?’ She had barely considered the age difference. ‘It is only four years. There are ten years between you and Rosalind.’

  ‘That is entirely different. I am a man. I am the head of the household.’

  Cecily leapt to her feet and crossed to the window. ‘That is a ridiculous argument. If Zach and I do not regard the difference in ages, what possible business can it be of anyone else’s?’

  She leant her forehead to the cool glass. Her breath misted the pane but she did not care. If the glass was smeared, let someone else worry about it. The choice she must make ripped at her and only with the strongest effort did she keep her tears at bay. What Leo had not said was as clear as what he had, but she nevertheless must ask that fateful question. With dread pooling in her stomach, she turned to face him. He was watching her. There was a gleam of sympathy in those silver eyes, but also an implacable determination. Her courage almost deserted her. Almost. But she must know for sure. Only then would she be certain that her choice was as stark as she feared.

  ‘Let us be clear, Leo. If I choose Zach, do I lose my family?’

  The look on her brother’s face was answer enough and she fled the room.

  * * *

  Zach had waited all day, hoping Cecily would come to him, but there was no sign of her. There was, however, a visitor to the Grange in the middle of the afternoon. He heard the sound of a swiftly moving vehicle and he ran up to the road to see a chaise and four turn in between the stone pillars of Leyton Grange. And he was in time to catch a glimpse of the sole occupant. The Duke. Cecily’s brother. His coming could mean only one thing and it was only by the strongest effort of will that Zach did not chase after the vehicle as the sweating horses galloped up the carriageway. He knew why the Duke had come: it had Thetford’s grubby fingermarks all over it. Rather than come here himself, and face the half-brother he despised, he had involved the Duke—no doubt to remove Cecily from Zach’s contaminating influence.

  Cecily’s response to Cheriton’s arrival would tell Zach all he needed to know. He wanted her to choose him of her own accord and so he resisted the urge to stride up to the Grange and hammer on the door and demand admittance. But he could not resist keeping watch from the cover of the nearby wood.

  He saw Kilburn arrive and depart, but he was too far away to decipher the man’s expression and to guess at what decision, if any, had been reached. Had Cecily asked Kilburn to release her? Had she been able to withstand her brother’s inevitable opposition to her marrying Zach? Or was duty so deeply ingrained in her that she would bow to her brother’s edict and conform to society’s mores rather than follow her heart?

  It was only then, his heart sinking as he watched Kilburn ride away from the Grange, that Zach started to doubt his strategy. It was important to him that Cecily’s choice was hers and hers alone and he had stayed away to avoid pressuring her. The cards had been dealt. He had placed his bet last night and today he had given her brother time and space to play his hand. But, in so doing, had he been too honourable? Cecily loved her brother dearly and he exerted enormous influence over her. Whatever persuasions the Duke employed to sway her would be reinforced by thirty years’ of shared history and the very real sense of familial duty that was instilled into any lady of high birth.

  Cecily loved him. He did not doubt it, for otherwise she would never have been prepared to give herself to him. But did she love him enough to turn her back on her family, if that stark choice was the only choice on the table?

  He left the cover of the trees and strode purposefully across the lawn and up to the front door. The butler, as behoved any servant worth his position, started to shut the door in Zach’s face as soon as he saw him upon the doorstep. Zach stepped forward and placed his foot in the diminishing gap.

  ‘I have come to speak to Lady Cecily Beauchamp. Be so good as to inform her that Mr Zachary Graystoke is here.’

  The butler thrust his face into the gap. ‘Get you gone, gipsy. We don’t welcome your sort here.’

  It took less than a second to make up his mind. He must get past the man, and do it quickly before he could summon reinforcements. Zach put his shoulder to the door and barged through. The butler was no match for him; Zach strode past him into the panelled hall.

  ‘Where is she?’

  The butler’s face was mottled with rage. ‘Simpkins! Acton! To me! Now!’

  The last was a roar that echoed up the huge, open stairwell, bouncing between the walls and the high, ornately plastered ceiling and a nearby door flew open, revealing the figure of the Duke of Cheriton. Zach met his glare with a steely look of his own. He cared nothing for the man’s rank. Any respect for the aristocracy had long ago been ripped from him, after his experiences at his half-brother’s hands.

  ‘Where is Cecily?’ He shook off the butler’s restraining hand and strode towards the Duke.

  One dark brow rose and the Duke stood aside, indicating with a sweep of his arm that Zach should enter the room, as he said, ‘There is no need for you to concern yourself, Parker. You may safely leave this with me.’

  Cecily was by the fireplace, her face pale, hands clasped before her. The door clicked shut behind Zach as he went to her, searching her expression as he neared her. He delved deep into the mossy depths of her eyes and he read desolation within. And he knew.

  ‘Follow your heart.’ He touched her clasped hands, felt them tremble. ‘You will not be happy with Kilburn. Take courage and do as you wish to do, not what you are expected to do.’

  Her lids lowered. ‘I do not wish to prolong this, Mr Graystoke.’ Her voice was level. Devoid of feeling. The only indication of repressed emotion was the rapid rise and fall of her bosom. ‘I have valued our friendship and I am relieved you are now recovered from your illness, but I regret I must end our association forthwith.’

  ‘I will give up the travelling life. I have told you. We can settle at Edgecombe. I have enough income for us to live comfortably...to provide for our children. We do not need the rest of society.’ He snatched her hands, gathered them to his chest. ‘Cecily, I lo—’

  ‘Graystoke!’ The Duke came between them, easing Cecily back before facing Zach. ‘My sister has given you her decision. She wished to do so in person and I—reluctantly—agreed. But I expect you to respect that decision and her feelings. I will not stand by and listen to you attempt to coerce her into changing her mind.’

  Zach advanced, chest to chest with the Duke.

  ‘Her decision or yours?’ He held the Duke’s gaze. ‘Have you even considered what your sister really wants and how she feels, or are you just concerned with what others might say, or think? Isn’t her happiness important to you?’

  ‘Her happiness is my only consideration. Do you really believe she will happy buried on some minor estate with you, estranged from her family and friends, from the whole of society?’

  ‘Stop it!’ Cecily grabbed her brother’s arm and tugged him away. ‘Do not make this harder than it already is. Zach...’ The lo
ok she sent him—brimful of regret—made his knees buckle and only by sheer force of will did he lock them straight. She turned to her brother. ‘Leo. Please. Allow us to talk in privacy.’

  The Duke’s brow lowered but, to Zach’s surprise, he nodded and went to stand by the window.

  ‘Zach.’

  Her look, the love shining from her eyes, melted his heart. But the regret was still present. And heartache. Then his throat thickened as he recognised her resolve. As much as he wanted this to be entirely the fault of her brother, it was her decision to choose her family over him.

  ‘I hoped...’ Her voice was low—too quiet to reach her brother, whose narrow-eyed gaze never wavered. ‘I did hope, when I knew your past, that we might find a way, but I think I always knew it was hopeless. We would both have to give up so much—too much.

  ‘I would lose the family I love and the society of my friends. I do prefer country living, but if, by choosing you, I am never able to see my family, to go to Town, or to socialise with my friends, I suspect that I would soon hanker after the very thing that is barred to me.’ A smile flickered. ‘We always desire that which we cannot have. Is that not true?’

  ‘Your brother has influence. If he were to accept us, then enough others would follow his lead.’

  Her lips firmed briefly before parting on a sigh. ‘It is not that straightforward, although that is true. He has responsibilities and he must make his decision on what is best for everyone. He has the rest of the family to consider. A daughter and a stepdaughter both in their first Season and a son and heir who wishes to make an advantageous match.

  ‘But, Zach—’ she laid her hand against his cheek ‘—what of the sacrifice you would have to make? You would have to give up the life you have chosen to live for the past ten years.’

  He opened his mouth to reassure her, but stayed silent in response to a touch to his arm.

  ‘Please. Allow me to finish. I have thought this through. Very carefully.’

  She emitted a little laugh that turned into a choked-off sob and he fought the urge to take her in his arms; to comfort her.

  ‘I have thought of nothing else since last night,’ she whispered. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. ‘I thought about you—the man I met at Stourwell Court. The man I fell in love with—your love of nature, your instinctive understanding and your natural wisdom. I know you had little choice but to embrace the Romany life at first. You were young and you and your mother had nowhere else to go. But—your mother has gone and this past year, since your twenty-fifth birthday, you have continued the Romany way of life even though you could have returned to take your rightful place in society. You chose not to return.

  ‘I thought, too, about any children we might have. Without my family’s support, we would remain for ever at Edgecombe, condemned to living a half-life. Neither belonging nor fully accepted in my world or yours. Look at your experience. You said yourself you are tolerated by your mother’s people—not fully welcomed, other than by her immediate family. I cannot see a contented future for us.

  ‘I do not want you to be forced into changing your life. I fear you would grow to resent me. And I would grow to resent you for taking me from my family. My choice is clear—become estranged from everyone I love or to lose the man I love.

  ‘I am sorry, but I choose to stay with what is familiar. I am not brave enough to take that leap into an unknown future.’

  ‘You have made this decision with your head. What of your heart?’

  She smiled sadly. ‘I have to make my decision based on fact. We do not live in the pages of a romance novel. This is real life and love does not always transcend practicalities. And if saying that makes me sound boring and sensible, then so be it. Maybe that is the person I am, the person I was brought up to be.’

  Her logic was unarguable. But he did not want to hear logic. He wanted passion. He sensed the tight control she had over her emotions. If only her brother was not in the room, watching their every move, he would...

  Would what? Take her in your arms and seduce her into submission? You would pressure her to submit to your will, yet you afford the beasts and the birds the choice to remain with you or to leave?

  He bowed his head as his heart broke.

  ‘I respect your decision.’ He owed her that.

  He captured her gaze, losing himself one last time in those green depths, desperately trying to convey his love without words. Her face softened, those perfect lips parting as though to receive his kiss. He blinked fast, to stem the tears that gathered.

  ‘Goodbye, sweet dove.’

  He held her hand, raising it to his mouth, and caught a restless movement out of the corner of his eye. Well, to hell with the damned Duke. He pressed his lips to her silken skin, breathing deep of her evocative apple-blossom scent. Never again would he be able to smell that flower in the air without remembering his perfect lady. A tear trickled free and landed on her skin. He wiped it with his thumb and straightened, releasing her hand. He turned and strode for the door. The Duke, as he had guessed he would, followed him outside.

  ‘It is for the best, Graystoke.’

  There was even a gleam of sympathy in the man’s eyes. Every fibre of Zach’s being hardened. His hand clenched into a fist and he yearned to plant it in the Duke’s hypocritical face. But he fought that urge. It would resolve nothing and would only cause more pain to Cecily. He had learned long ago it was senseless to rail against the prejudices of society—anger and confrontation would never change people’s minds, but only confirm their preconceptions.

  ‘I disagree. I love your sister. She loves me.’

  ‘And we all know that is not enough. Understand me well, Graystoke. I have my sister’s best interests at heart. She is the daughter of a duke. I cannot stand by and see her throw her social standing away on a whim. You hardly know one another. You will soon forget.’

  What does he know of love? What does he know of heartache?

  ‘She knows me better than she knows Kilburn.’

  ‘They will have time to become better acquainted in London before they are formally betrothed.’

  Bitterness scoured Zach’s throat. Any man could conceal his true nature during courtship. The thought of Cecily with that bastard sent waves of helpless fury crashing through him.

  ‘Stay away from my sister if you know what’s good for you, Graystoke. You really do not want to get on the wrong side of me.’

  ‘You cannot intimidate me, Cheriton. My father—’

  ‘Your father lived to regret his mésalliance with your mother, according to Thetford.’

  ‘And that, your Grace, is a damned lie. They were happy together.’

  One dark brow arched and again Zach battled the urge to punch the smug superiority from the man’s face.

  ‘You’ve lost, Graystoke. Take your failure like a man and leave my sister to continue with the life she was born and raised to enjoy.’

  He clenched his jaw so hard it ached, but he realised there was nothing to be gained in prolonging the inevitable.

  ‘The possession of a title does not make Kilburn a decent man, Cheriton. He has a rotten core and your sister deserves better.’ He held the Duke’s gaze as he silently debated with himself. ‘He’s cruel, Cheriton. I have a brand burnt into my arse to prove it. Even you will have no power to protect her once they are man and wife.’

  He twisted on his heel and strode away.

  * * *

  His camp was packed up in record time, rage driving him on, the busyness stopping him from dwelling on his pain. He was on the road within the hour. He turned Titan’s head to the west and rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves steadied his racing heart and soothed the turmoil battering his soul but he could no longer hold his thoughts at bay. And through the heartache crept a growing realisation and, finally, full acceptance.

  He steered Titan in a half-circle and sent him to the east. To Hertfordshire.

  Cecily had been right. She could not ask him to sacrifice
the life he had chosen. But he could make that sacrifice nevertheless. He must choose henceforth to embrace the gadje world. He must take his place in society and face up to the inevitable challenges if he was to have any chance of winning the hand of the woman he loved.

  His Lady Perfect.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Beauchamp House, Grosvenor Square, London

  ‘Will you not tell me what is wrong, Olivia?’

  The dark circles beneath her niece’s eyes and her uncommon listlessness troubled Cecily. Something was undoubtedly wrong, but all her efforts to uncover the reason behind Olivia’s low mood had failed. When she was out and about she hid her melancholy very well and was her usual vivacious self, but at home there was no disguising her gloom. Cecily empathised, for was her behaviour not similar? And she suspected the cause might also be similar—Olivia’s unhappiness bore all the hallmarks of a broken heart. At least the worry over Olivia helped to consign Cecily’s own misery to the back of her mind.

  ‘It is—’

  Olivia fell silent as the parlour door opened and Grantham entered. Cecily had rarely seen their stiff and exceedingly proper butler look so flummoxed.

  ‘Yes, Grantham?’

  She tried not to reveal her exasperation at the timing of his interruption. So many minor irritations these days seemed to try her temper in a way unheard of in the past and she had caught more than one member of the family casting her a puzzled look when she overreacted.

  ‘A gentleman is demanding to speak with you, my lady.’

  ‘A gentleman? At this hour?’

  It was only ten o’clock. No gentleman—or lady, come to that—would pay a social visit so early in the day.

  ‘I suggested he might leave his card, but he is most insistent. He refuses to leave until I have given you his name.’

  ‘Well? Who is it, Grantham?’

  ‘Mr Zachary Graystoke.’

  The air whooshed from Cecily’s lungs and, even though she was seated, she felt herself sway. The moment she had both longed for and dreaded. What did he hope to achieve by prolonging the agony and the heartbreak for them both?