her, you must come up with a way to discourage her. And you had better not break her heart in the process. That carries a burden of guilt I would not wish on any man.”
“DEAR HEAVEN, BEATRICE, you are telling me the truth, aren’t you?” Cecilia waved away the question. “Of course you are.” Cecilia had put her face in her hands but Beatrice could still make out the words. She stayed that way awhile. Beatrice knew her sister was envisioning the misery Annie must have endured.
Cecilia had forgone a morning ride for what Beatrice decided were obvious reasons, though she wondered if Lord Destry had felt well enough to go out anyway. Beatrice could not imagine anything more uncomfortable than thumping up and down on horseback in time with a headache from too much wine or brandy or whatever he had been drinking to excess.
Beatrice waited, and finally Cecilia looked up. Tears glistened in her eyes but she managed not to give in to them.
“The poor woman. To be surrounded by servants with no one to turn to.”
Cecilia’s mood had been much improved by a good night’s sleep. Beatrice had sent Darwell on some trivial errand, telling her they wished to linger over their chocolate before dressing. As soon as they were alone Beatrice told her sister the story she had learned the night before. It did the job of changing Cecilia’s sensibility from ill-tempered to profoundly sympathetic.
“Bitsy, what a horror. It makes Darwell a veritable heroine for staying on to care for her with no rescue in sight.”
They sat in silence, sipping chocolate, until finally Cecilia asked.
“How will we act around Lord Crenshaw now that we know?”
“We cannot act any different.”
“But why not shun the man? It is no less than he deserves.”
“Because Lord Jess trusted me enough to tell me a story very few know and does, perforce, trust me to be discreet as well. I admit I am not sure I am practiced enough in society’s niceties to carry it off, but like everything else here, this will be good practice.”
“Very well, we are to tell no one and act as if nothing has changed.” Cecilia stopped stirring the chocolate and dropped the spoon on the tray.
“Can you imagine what would happen if Mrs. Wilson heard the story? She loves to be the first to spread any sort of gossip.”
Ceci gasped. “Lord Crenshaw has been paying attention to both you and Miss Wilson, Bitsy. What if he asks to court her?”
“Oh, Ceci, stop looking for trouble. It finds us easily enough.” Beatrice took a small bite of one of the breakfast rolls. It was another bit of perfection from Lady Olivia’s kitchen.
“Isn’t it amazing that something as basic as bread would respond so well to genius?” she said, distracted by the treat.
Cecilia took a bit of the roll and dipped it in the now cool chocolate, nibbled it, and nodded at Beatrice. “The chocolate is rather good this way. It helps that the roll has just a little sugar in it. Chocolate and cake are an interesting combination. I wonder if Olivia has ever considered putting the two together.” Cecilia took one more taste and her smile faded. “I just hope I am a good enough actress.”
“Nonsense, Ceci, you do not have to act. Just be the lady you always are.”
Cecilia brushed some crumbs from her night robe while she considered what her sister said.
“Treat Lord Crenshaw the same way you would treat Lord Jess, the earl, and Lord Destry.” As soon as Beatrice said the marquis’s name she wished she had not.
“Destry! I will be every bit a lady to him, even if he is a stupid man who had too much to drink.”
“Bravo for you, Ceci.” Jess was right. Her sister, who could not imagine herself a duchess, had the air naturally. “Lord Jess is arranging for the rabbit race today. It is to be held around four on the lawn that slopes to the ha-ha on the west side of the house. The sun, if it decides to come out and play, will make it a lovely spot.”
“Oh, I have the perfect dress for that. It’s the palest green, edged in flowers. Darwell took it to be pressed. I want to look so beautiful it will make Lord Destry weep.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“I DO NOT understand what talent of yours this is meant to showcase, Lord Jess.” Beatrice danced around him, more sprite than Venus. Her dress was a tribute to summer, the lightest lawn