Lady Cecily And The Mysterious Mr Gray

‘Have you told your brother of your plan to marry yet?’ He had grappled with that knowledge all day and yet...why? His common sense told him it was not his business what this perfect lady chose to do with her life. That connection between them was undeniable, but it was also unrealistic. Impossible. And he was not a man to hanker after the impossible.

‘I have not told him, so I should appreciate it if you do not mention it. I am not certain I shall confide my entire plan to my brothers—I shall simply experience a sudden urge to visit my Aunt Drusilla.’

Mischief sparked in her eyes and her full lips twitched, coaxing a smile from him, and triggering a sudden craving to taste her again. He thrust that urge aside, along with the idle conjecture as to how her brothers might react were he to act on that impulse. Hung, drawn and quartered sprang to mind. His smile widened and she eyed him curiously.

‘You say that as though there is a joke in there somewhere,’ he said, by way of explanation.

‘You would have to meet my aunt to appreciate the humour. Even her sons—my cousins—avoid visiting Leyton Grange as much as possible.’

In his peripheral vision, Zach noticed the Duke lean down to murmur into his wife’s ear, before straightening and turning purposefully towards Zach and Cecily. Zach easily interpreted his thoughts: his sister had talked to the gipsy for long enough and it was time to put a stop to the conversation. He obviously took his role of head of the family seriously. It was no wonder she behaved in such a restrained manner in his presence. How well did he—or the rest of her family—know the real Cecily that existed beneath this perfect outer shell? Had they, like him, ever sensed the wealth of passion simmering deep inside?

The Duke had joined them. ‘Gray.’ He nodded a greeting.

Zach nodded in reply. ‘Duke.’

He was damned if he would continue to ‘your Grace’ the man.

‘Might I borrow my sister? My wife would like a word with her.’

What could he say? Cecily threw him a tight smile, then crossed the room to sit with the Duchess. The Duke remained.

‘I am conscious we as a family are in your debt, Gray, but you would oblige me if you avoid being alone with my sister again.’

There was no anger or threat in his words, merely an arrogant assumption that Zach would do as he was bid.

‘Alone?’

Zach cast his gaze around the salon in an exaggerated manner. The Duke’s jaw firmed.

‘Your sister is in no danger from me.’

Silver-grey eyes bore into him. Zach stood his ground, holding the man’s gaze.

‘Do not wilfully misunderstand me.’ The menace was there now. Soft and assured. ‘You must be aware of the ways of our world and how easily a lady’s reputation can be damaged. The Markhams are our hosts and I am conscious of my obligations as their guest. They vouch for you and I therefore acquit you of any criminal intent, but be aware I shall be watching you. Very closely.’

Anger roiled deep down in Zach’s gut.

He thinks it is about money. He thinks I might blackmail him. Label the gipsy a scoundrel, a thief.

It should not be a surprise. Since living as a Romany, he had encountered many such prejudices towards his kind. The injustice of painting every member of an entire people the same criminal colour—merely due to the actions of a few rogue individuals or families—still burned within him. He longed to wipe that superior look from the Duke’s face, but he must be satisfied with knowing the truth in his own heart.

‘Watch as much as you please, Duke. You will soon grow bored.’ Zach leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘I have no interest in your money.’

He had more than enough money of his own to live very comfortably if he so wished. He simply did not choose to live his life among people such as the Duke, who peered down their noses at him as though he was not quite a real man.

A muscle leapt in the Duke’s jaw and his fingers curled into a fist. Zach held his gaze until, finally, with a curt nod, the Duke stalked away.

Typical arrogant, cold-hearted nob.

His conscience then reared up, calming his anger and allowing his common sense to reassert itself. The man was Cecily’s brother and she clearly loved and respected him. As she was a product of her upbringing, so was the Duke a product of his. The kinder part of Zach understood the Duke merely sought to protect his family. After all, he too had a protective streak as wide as the sky. But the resentful part—the part he tried so hard to control, the part that would wallow in past injustices and past betrayals if he allowed it to—wanted nothing more than to make the Duke and every unfeeling aristocrat like him pay for their blind acceptance of the privilege of their birth.

And the wild part—the part that clamoured to challenge and to seduce and to take risks merely in order to show them—that was the hardest to control of the lot.

* * *

At the breakfast table the following day, Cecily eyed her brothers and her nephew with growing resentment. She understood why one or other of them had stayed close by her side throughout the previous evening—at least until Zach had left—but that did not soothe her exasperation. What was wrong with simply talking to the man? She ignored the whisper of her conscience, reminding her of their kiss. Her brothers did not know about that. They could have no valid excuse for treating her as though she were unable to exercise self-control when she had never given them any cause to doubt her.

She bit into her toast and marmalade, and chewed absent-mindedly as she considered ways in which she could see Zach again. All too soon they would all go their separate ways and, before then, she wanted—needed—to talk to him, to feel his solid support, to hear his quiet belief that she was capable of her own decisions and that it was not wrong for her to put her own needs first for once.

‘Thea?’

Thea looked up and smiled. ‘Yes, Cecily?’

She hesitated. If she asked to go with Thea to look at Star, for certain Vernon would find an excuse to accompany them, even though the men were currently planning to ride around the estate with Daniel, to advise him on agricultural matters. Mrs Markham, as usual, would spend much of her time with her husband in his bedchamber and Mr Allen, Rosalind’s grandfather, would no doubt join them after a late breakfast. He had struck up a friendship with Mr Markham and they spent much time together happily exchanging stories of the old days.

That just left Thea and Rosalind, which suited Cecily perfectly.

‘I thought I might stroll in the flower garden this morning, before it grows too hot, and I wondered if you might care to accompany me?’

Thea’s eyes lit up. ‘That will be fun.’ She turned to Leo and her freckled cheeks fired red as they often did when she spoke directly to him. ‘Do you think R-Rosalind would like to join us, yo—Leo?’

Thea was still uncomfortable being on familial terms with a real duke and the entire family found her uncharacteristic shyness around him completely endearing.

‘I am sure she will.’ Rosalind had not yet put in an appearance that morning and Leo rose to his feet. ‘I have finished here. If you will all excuse me, I shall go and ask her.’

He left the room and Cecily released her held-in breath. It was not easy to fool Leo, but at least the first part of her plan had worked. She hoped neither of her new sisters-in-law would behave quite so stuffily as the male members of her family—surely they would suspect nothing if she suggested a visit to the stables to see how Star fared?

* * *

‘I,’ said Rosalind, pausing to breathe in the scent of a blush-pink rose, ‘am under the strictest of instructions not to allow any...um...the word used, I believe, was intercourse—singularly inappropriate under the circumstances, I would suggest—between we delicate members of the fairer sex and Mr Gray.’

Cecily laughed, relief loosening the tension that had gripped her ever since the three of them had ventured out into the garden. She had watched from her bedchamber window as the four men clattered past the front of the house and down the carriageway earlier, and only then had she joined her sisters-in-law in the salon. Her fear that Rosalind would capitulate to Leo’s edict was unfounded...it appeared her sister-in-law had lost none of her spark since becoming a duchess.

Thea gasped at Rosalind’s words, looking stunned as her gaze swivelled between Rosalind and Cecily.

‘Are you shocked, Thea?’ Rosalind smiled and took her hand. ‘I did warn you before you married Vernon that it takes a strong woman to cope with a Beauchamp. It is merely a case of choosing your battles wisely, I find.’

‘You would dare to defy Leo? But he is a duke.’

‘He is a man first and foremost. And my husband.’ Rosalind strolled on, following the path Cecily had taken three nights before. Cecily hooked her arm through Thea’s and urged her on to catch up with Rosalind. ‘I support him as any obedient wife should...unless I think he is being unreasonable. And then I reserve the right to make my own decisions. And in this case—’ her hazel eyes glowed green in the sunlight as she turned her head and grinned at Cecily ‘—I find myself unconvinced by his rationale.’

They reached the square with the raised pool at its centre and there they paused.

‘And I have to say,’ continued Rosalind, ‘I am more than delighted to discover that our sister Cecily is more of a Beauchamp than I ever imagined.’

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