to rest.
Cecilia sang through the rest of the verses, leaving off the last one about debauching the lassies. Lord Darlington murmured something to Isabella when the song ended. Isabella stirred, nestled her head against her uncle’s chest, and drifted back to sleep.
Lord Darlington continued to rock quietly, but he was studying Cecilia over the top of Isabella’s downy head. “Why don’t you know any proper lullabies?”
Maybe she had once, but if anyone ever had sung lullabies to her when she was a child, Cecilia didn’t remember them. “I can’t recall them, I suppose.”
Lord Darlington didn’t appear satisfied with this reply. He opened his mouth, but Cecilia didn’t choose to share anything more, so she rose from the chair before he could speak, and hurried to the window on the other side of the room.
He didn’t speak to her again, but she felt the heat of his gaze on her back, and sought out his reflection in the glass. He was caressing Isabella’s hair, his big palm stroking gently over the girl’s head, the rocking chair squeaking beneath them.
Cecilia kept herself busy on her own side of the room, folding and then refolding Isabella’s clothing and blankets and sneaking looks at Lord Darlington’s reflection. She turned to face him again when he rose from the rocking chair, and watched as he drew the pink silk hangings aside and lay Isabella in her bed, careful not to wake her. “Sleep well, little one.”
He reached for the coverlet and tucked it snugly under Isabella’s chin, and brushed the golden-brown curls back from her forehead. Isabella didn’t wake, but she hummed contentedly in her sleep and nestled closer to her uncle’s stroking hand.
A smile—a real one—curved Lord Darlington’s lips at the girl’s unconscious affection. He waited until Isabella’s breathing became deep and even, then straightened. He looked vaguely surprised when he noticed Cecilia again, as if he’d forgotten she was there. He didn’t speak to her, but he gazed at her so long Cecilia’s heart began to pound.
She cleared her throat. “Good night, Lord Darlington.”
He blinked, then with a little shake of his head he dropped his gaze and strode to the connecting door. “Good night.”
Cecilia stared at his closed door for a while after he left, not sure what to make of him, then returned to the rocking chair to wait for Amy. She must have dozed off, because when she woke, Amy was beside her, gently shaking her shoulder. “Wake up, Cecilia. You can go off to your own bedchamber now. You look right worn out, you do, poor thing.”
Cecilia gave a great yawn, and stretched her aching arms over her head. “It has been rather a long day.” After the debacle in Lord Darlington’s bedchamber this morning, she and Mrs. Briggs had spent the day scouring every corner of the drawing room and entry hall.
“Tomorrow will be another long one.” Amy drew back a corner of the pink silk hangings Lord Darlington had drawn around Isabella’s bed, and peeked inside. “Did she give you any trouble tonight?”
“Not much, no. She’s a dear little thing.”
“You’ve got a natural way with her, that’s certain.” Amy gave her a sly grin. “Not so much with the coal scuttle, though.”
“Oh, hush.” Cecilia huffed, but her lips were twitching. She’d confessed the details of the debacle in Lord Darlington’s bedchamber this morning, and Amy, who was a hearty, high-spirited girl, had nearly laughed herself sick.
All things considered it had been a rather humiliating morning. One good thing had come of it, though. She and Amy had agreed to trade morning and evening tasks. Cecilia would take care of Isabella, and Amy would attend to Lord Darlington. They were both well pleased with the new arrangement.
Amy pulled the coverlet on her cot aside and plumped up her pillow. “It’s a shame you can’t sleep here. It would save us both a good deal of fuss.”
Cecilia hesitated. “It’s an…unusual arrangement, your sleeping here with Isabella, isn’t it? Why does Lord Darlington insist on it?”
Amy shrugged. “He rests easier if he’s near Isabella at night. She’s been in this room for a year or more, even before Lord Darlington ordered the third floor closed. The nursery is too far a distance from his own apartments for his liking.”
“Well, this room is certainly closer,” Cecilia murmured.
Much, much closer. The room was nestled between Lord Darlington’s apartments on one side, and the Marchioness of Darlington’s on the other. It had previously been a shared sitting room, but Lord Darlington had ordered