ascended straight from the netherworlds, and that was before she added the haunted castle into the equation.
But as angry and humiliated as Cecilia was, she wouldn’t say that. Indeed, if she could judge by the temper now kindling in his eyes and the wash of red creeping up his neck, she’d already said quite enough.
“Lordly,” he repeated flatly.
“Elegant, I mean. Lords wear fashionable embroidered silk waistcoats, and their behavior is so gentlemanlike.” Cecilia couldn’t resist putting an emphasis on that last word.
“So, your measure of a gentleman is an embroidered silk waistcoat? That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, it is rather ridiculous, isn’t it?” Cecilia touched her fingers to the ribbons of her hat to make certain he took her meaning, then offered him a polite curtsy. “Thank you for taking the time to see me today, Lord Darlington. Goodbye.”
She turned on her heel and marched toward the door, but she hadn’t taken more than a few steps before Lord Darlington stopped her. “Wait, Miss Gilchrist.”
Now she’d said her piece, Cecilia’s limbs were twitching with the urge to flee this place, but there was an unexpected note of grudging admiration in his voice that made her pause and turn to face him. “Yes, my lord?”
He nodded toward the chair she’d just left. “Sit down, please.”
Cecilia didn’t want to sit down. She’d already decided it was one thing to peek at Lord Darlington from behind the safety of a thicket of shrubs in Hyde Park, and quite another to be trapped alone with him in a dimly lit study inside a haunted castle.
The first was vastly preferable to the second.
Even from a distance she’d noticed he was a large gentleman, but now, with only a desk between them, Cecilia could see Lord Darlington was as close to rivaling Daniel Brixton in height and sheer, muscular bulk as any man she’d ever seen.
The wisest course was for her to seize the excuse he’d given her to leave Darlington Castle and abandon him to his fate, but she’d made a promise to Lady Clifford, and she found she couldn’t give it up for lost quite yet. So, she sat, her hands folded in her lap, and waited.
Lord Darlington was scowling, as if he already regretted calling her back. “If there’s something you wish to say to me, you may do so now.”
Cecilia blinked. “You mean about silk waistcoats, and you not looking like a marquess?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “No, Miss Gilchrist. You said earlier you weren’t lying to me. If you care to explain what you mean, I’ll listen to you.”
“That’s, ah…very good of you, Lord Darlington.” What a pity she’d been so busy denying his accusations she hadn’t thought of any convincing lies.
But the next thing she knew her traitorous lips opened, and a half dozen lies spewed forth. “I didn’t lie to you before, my lord. My cloak is a gift from Lady Dunton’s daughter. She made a present of it to me when I left Stoneleigh.”
“A present,” Lord Darlington repeated.
“Yes, my lord.” That much at least was true. The cloak had been a gift. From Lady Clifford, not Lady Dunton’s daughter, but it was as close as she could get to the truth. Georgiana always warned her to stay as faithful to the truth as possible when telling an enormous lie, and the lies one was compelled to tell should be simple ones, and thus easier to remember.
“How generous of Lady Dunton’s daughter.” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “I suppose the blue ribbons were a gift, as well?”
“No, my lord. I have a great-aunt who lives in London. She sent me the ribbons.”
Alas, one lie seemed to be her limit, because this second one didn’t leave her lips quite as smoothly as the first one had. He noticed it, and his gaze sharpened on her face. Much to her dismay, Lord Darlington appeared to be the sort of man who noticed everything.
“Your aunt’s name, Miss Gilchrist?”
Cecilia nearly groaned aloud. Oh, why had she mentioned a great aunt? She might have just said she’d purchased the bonnet in London, but she’d had to throw a great aunt into it, and complicate things. If Georgiana were here, she’d be appalled.
“She’s, ah…Mrs. Bell, my lord.” There, let the blasted man do a search through the hundred or so Mrs. Bells living in London.
“Her direction?” Lord Darlington snatched up the quill from his desk, dipped it, and hovered it over a scrap of paper.
Cecilia’s satisfaction faded. “Lambeth Road, my