it out, and he was more than happy to watch her put Mrs. Honeywell in her place. “Very well, Cecilia. If you wish it.”
He nodded toward the pianoforte, and took his seat again.
Cecilia made her way toward the instrument, her head high. Mrs. Honeywell smirked as she took her seat on the bench. “What simple little ditty will you play for us, Cecilia? Sonata Facile, perhaps?”
A few of the haughtier members of the company tittered behind their hands at this, but most of them were either glaring at Mrs. Honeywell or casting pitying glances at Cecilia.
Cecilia’s back stiffened. Gideon half rose from his chair again, but before he could intervene a second time, her fingers began to move over the keys. A moment later her pure, clear voice took up the melody.
Here’s a health to the King and a lasting peace
To faction an end, to wealth increase.
Come, let us drink it while we have breath,
For there’s no drinking after death.
A gasp rose up from the company, but Gideon’s lips curved in a smile.
Cecilia had chosen to sing an old English drinking song. Not just any song, either, but a notoriously bawdy one. By choosing a song so thoroughly out of Miss Honeywell’s repertoire, Cecilia had ensured there could be no comparison between them.
Her enthusiasm grew as she progressed through the song, her fingers flying over the keys as she sang with gusto, neatly depriving Mrs. Honeywell of the chance to humiliate her.
Let Bacchus’ health round briskly move,
For Bacchus is a friend to Love;
And they that would this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie!
When the last ringing notes sounded in the silent drawing room, Cecilia rose from the bench, turned to face a quivering, purple-faced Mrs. Honeywell, and offered her a solemn curtsy.
“Brava, Cecilia!” Haslemere burst into enthusiastic applause, a delighted smile on his lips. “Well done! Your voice is every bit as lovely as Lord Darlington said. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Honeywell?”
Mrs. Honeywell didn’t appear to agree. She was glaring at Cecilia as if she’d like to wring her neck, but for once, she held her tongue.
“Thank you, my lord.” Cecilia offered another curtsy to Haslemere, her lips curved in a grin that made Gideon’s heart thump wildly in his chest.
Finally, she turned to him, her dark eyes wary. “Lord Darlington.”
She looked as if she were expecting him to dismiss her then and there, and toss her out the door of his castle into the freezing night. He gave her a slight smile, his eyes holding hers, but he said only, “Thank you, Cecilia. You are excused.”
Chapter Fourteen
Cecilia took care to keep her head high as she left the drawing room, but as soon as she was out of sight of Lord Darlington’s guests she fled down the hallway. By the time she reached the staircase, her knees were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure she could climb the stairs.
She slapped a hand over her mouth, her other hand tightening on the stair railing as she choked back a sudden flood of saliva. Dear God, she was going to be sick. She was going to be sick all over Lord Darlington’s spotless flagstone floors, not a dozen steps away from the drawing room door.
After the scene she’d just made, Lord Darlington’s guests might decide they’d had quite enough entertainment for one night, and choose to take their leave. She couldn’t bear for any of them to see her in such a state, or worse, for him to see her. No, she’d rather take a tumble down the stairs than face him right now.
Cecilia gripped the railing and dragged herself up one stair after the next, her hand still pressed against her mouth. When she reached the first landing, she risked a glance behind her, then sagged against the wall with relief.
No one had followed her, thank goodness.
Of all the songs she might have chosen to sing, why had she chosen “Down Among the Dead”? She hadn’t the vaguest idea how it had even entered her head, but once it had, the smug look on Mrs. Honeywell’s face had lured it past her lips before she even realized what she was doing. The next thing she knew, she was seated at the pianoforte, singing about celestial joys and the pleasures of the soul and Bacchus being the friend to love, and, and…
Her head fell weakly against the wall behind her, her cheeks bursting into sudden flames as she recalled the last stanza, which she’d sang with particular fervor.
May