Chapter Sixteen
Stapleton House
Marylebone, Mayfair
London, England
T he townhouse owned by the Stapleton family was quite large, a fact that had escaped Cecilia’s notice when she’d come for tea, but then, she supposed an earl would need a relatively bigger space to entertain properly.
That being said, one of the reasons the dwelling was so large was to contain a ballroom, and the moment her father escorted her into the space, her jaw dropped open. No, she wasn’t a stranger to attending society functions, but the room was decorated with a caring hand and by someone with an eye to details.
Large vases filled with riots of long-stemmed flowers as well as wildflowers and other greenery rested in all four corners on pedestals that resembled Grecian columns. Other, smaller vases and urns were also filled with flowers and set in strategic places about the room. Swags made with greenery, palm fronds, and flowers had been tacked above the windows and double doors, as well as the French-paned doors that led into the rear gardens which then rolled directly into a square beyond the property. The parquet floor of the dance space gleamed, and had been polished into a high shine that reflected the flicker and glow of the candles in the crystal chandelier that hung above it. Wall sconces provided additional illumination that, coupled with the flash and glitter from the gemstones in the women’s jewelry, made the room into a magical place.
“This is beautiful,” Cecilia said in a hushed voice, as she continued to take in all the decorations. “And look how the colors in the gowns contrast so greatly with the black of the men’s evening suits.” It was perfection. “I wish I knew how to paint.”
Her father patted her gloved hand that rested on his arm. “There are other ways to remember this night, my girl.” When he glanced about the room, he grinned. “Look, there is the earl. He is leading his mother out for the opening set.” Then he put his lips near her ear. “While I admit he is quite a fine specimen, his mother doesn’t resemble the dragon you’ve described.”
“Papa!” But she snorted. “I never said that she was.” As she spoke, Cecilia watched the pair as they were joined by a handful of other couples for the first country reel of the evening. Yes, the countess was lovely in a gold satin gown paired with emerald jewelry, but the whole of her attention rested on Lewis. “He is so handsome tonight,” she whispered to her father.
Clad in the requisite dark evening clothes, he was every inch the earl tonight with his light brown hair tamed and styled with the help of a touch of pomade. A sapphire stick pin winked from the starched folds of his cravat and a matching blue spark of fire came from a gemstone on the signet ring on his right pinky finger. Though fading bruises still decorated various portions of his face, he was still the most beautiful man she’d seen of late, with the breadth of his shoulders showed to perfection by the black tailcoat and the length of his legs giving her flights of fancy.
“Ah, Ceci, I’d say you are quite tip over tail for the man,” he said in a low voice, with amusement threading through it. “It is my fondest wish that this night will bring you everything you hope it will.”
For the first time in her life, she cautiously let herself look forward to the future. “So do I.” While she followed Lewis with her gaze, the music from a string quartet filled the air, and it was a lovely start to the evening.
Eventually, her father left her side, for he had discovered that a few of his friends were in attendance, so he happily took himself off to one of the card rooms.
She wasn’t left alone for long on the sidelines, for Lewis soon came looking for her once his duties to the party guests had been fulfilled. “You are quite handsome tonight, Your Lordship,” she said in a low voice, as he joined her at the side of the room.
“Such gammon, Miss Dawson,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye as he stuck to formality. “I have seen my visage in a looking glass; the bruises aren’t exactly an enhancement.”
“Badges of honor.”
“Perhaps.” When he gave her that special grin he seemed to set aside exclusively for her, flutters chased through her lower belly. Then he offered her a gloved hand. “While I’m glad you decided to come tonight, I rather wish we were alone.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “However, for the moment, will you share this next dance with me? It’s a Viennese waltz.”
Despite her nerves that flared once more, Cecilia nodded. “I will.” The moment she slipped her fingers into his palm, and he closed his hand around hers, a shiver of awareness went down her spine. “How is your mother tonight?” As of yet, she hadn’t come into contact with the countess.
“She is happy being the center of attention, I think.” As he led her to an open space on the dance floor, he chuckled. “However, I feel she is watching me like the proverbial hawk, for she has invited several eligible women tonight, and I know she hopes there will be a spark between me and one of them.”
Worry prompted Cecilia to frown. “Has there been?”
He met her gaze with his, and his grin was both disarming and need-inspiring. “There is only one woman in this room for whom my blood burns.” Before she could reply, he put his lips to the shell of her ear. “Didn’t our time together last night show you the truth of my words?”
“Oh!” Heat sneaked into her cheeks, and then there was no time to say anything further, for the first notes of the waltz erupted into the air, and Lewis set them into motion.
Although she enjoyed the exercise that dancing provided, it was quite annoying to begin the set in Lewis’ partnership but then transfer to another partner as the steps progressed. Each time they were apart, she followed him with her gaze, never truly remembering what her new partner said to her. And when she came back into his vicinity, so much happiness bubbled through her chest that she didn’t know how to conduct herself.
“Would that I stood on the sidelines,” he whispered, with an enigmatic grin.
“Why is that?” She could hardly breathe with him so close.
“You are quite graceful when you perform the steps of this waltz. I wish that I had the freedom to watch you, for at the end, your partner would need to bring you back to me.”
Once more, the steps shifted and she was shuttled to a different partner, who she barely gave a smile to. Every second she was away from the earl seemed like an eternity, and when she was obliged to come back into his orbit, a shuddering sigh left her throat.
“If I didn’t know better, Your Lordship, you are quite the romantic.”
His chuckle sent eddies of awareness sailing over her skin. “Let us just say I remain hopeful.” That grin of his grew wider. “I adore that shade of blue on you. It makes you seem quite mysterious and magical. Your eyes alone tonight would summon men to your side.”
What a lovely thing to say. She lost another piece of her heart to him in that moment. It was time to make a bit of a confession to him. “There is only one man I wish to snare tonight.”
Before he could offer a comment, the waltz came to an end. Then he offered her his arm, and as she laid her hand on his sleeve, he escorted her back to the side of the room.
“Thank you for sharing that waltz with me, Your Lordship.”
He nodded. “If the musicians weren’t having a bit of a break just now, I would claim the next set with you as well.” Then he winked and her heart skipped a beat. “It would certainly send a message throughout the assemblage, wouldn’t it?”
“A pity, that.” She glanced about the room, and when her gaze collided with that of Lord Wexley’s, Cecilia lifted a hand in greeting. He acknowledged her but frowned. Was he not enjoying himself tonight? “Perhaps we should take in a bit of air in the rear garden?” And perhaps he might try to steal a kiss.
The earl’s expression fell. “While that would be lovely, I’m afraid I need to step away from the ball for a few hours.”
“What? Why?”
He shook his head. “Duncan has promised to look after you and keep you entertained in my absence.”
That made absolutely no sense. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t tell you.” And his gaze shifted to where Lord Wexley stood checking the time on his pocket watch.
Warning bells immediately clanged inside her head. Was this the horrible thing she’d been waiting for? “Tell me the truth. Do you have a mistress?”
“No. No!” He shook his head, and once more held her gaze with his. “This has nothing to do with a mistress or any other woman.”
As people milled through the crowded ballroom and the sound of talking and laughter floated about her, Cecilia frowned at him as her chest grew tight. “Is this your way of saying you don’t wish to be with me any longer, but that you’re too much a coward to tell me?” Panic lodged a ball of tears in her throat. Had she been so wrong about him, then?
“Oh, Lia, of course not.” With a hand on hers, he led her farther near the wall and out of foot traffic. “In fact, I rather think I care for you far too much.”
When she peered into his face, nothing except the stark truth was reflected there. “How so?” If that was true, she wanted to hear it. Perhaps it would explain his bizarre announcement.
“I…” The earl blew out a breath. Then he nodded. “Truth be told, I’m leaving the ball with Alexander to enter into a bare-knuckle boxing match over the border of Hertfordshire County in Hertsmere. In fact, I’ll be going against one of the men who accosted you at your father’s shipping outfit.”
Fear twisted down her spine in icy tendrils. “Who?”
“Mr. Derrickson.”
“What?” If her outcry was a touch louder than she’d intended, she couldn’t help it. “Are you a nodcock? He is quite the boxer in his own right, is always bragging about bouts that he’s won and the purses he’s taken. As if that would ever impress me while he was hurting me.” She shook her head while tears sprang into her eyes. “You are going to be killed out there.”
A frown took possession of his mouth, and all she wanted to do was kiss it away. “You don’t think I can best him.” It wasn’t a question, and it had put his dander up.
“No, that’s not it at all.” She pressed her lips together as words flew through her mind. “In fact, I know you can win against him, but at what cost? Your shoulder is weak and your knee isn’t stable.” How did she make him understand that he had nothing to prove to anyone? Daring much, Cecilia laid a palm against his cheek even though they were in public. She held his gaze, searched it, perhaps in an effort to memorize every dear feature of his face. “I am not strong enough to lose you, Lewis.” It was the best she could do as a confession, since they weren’t alone.
For long moments, the earl remained silent. Then he slowly shook his head but kept hold of her free hand. “I must. For your honor, to make certain Mr. Derrickson will no longer bother you. To show him that he has no claim to you.”
“While I appreciate that, I can take care of myself.” She didn’t want him to do this foolish thing and perhaps gain irreparable harm to himself.
“Yes, you can, but you shouldn’t have to.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “Let me shoulder some of the burden.”
Though her heart squeezed, she shook her head. “Why can’t we do this together?”
“Bouts are illegal for men. It would be certain scandal for a woman. And I… I care too much for you to let that happen. I don’t want the gossips to get hold of you if I can help it.” He paused and a muscle in his cheek ticced. “There are things I would say to you after this bout is over…”
“Oh!” Did that mean he would ask for her hand? Though that was exciting enough, fear for his safety tamped down her reaction. “But I—”
“Please, Lia, I must go if I’m to make the bout in time and not forfeit the entry fee or my reputation as a boxer. Especially not to that bounder.” He nodded at his middle brother, who was making his way across the dance floor toward them.
“Fine.” She swallowed heavily but still wished to take refuge in tears. “Please be careful.”
“I will. I promise.” Then he released her hand.
“And Lewis?”
“Hmm?”
“I do believe in you, and I’m proud of you,” she managed in a choked whisper. “Keep him on your right side, wrap your knee with cloth beneath your breeches to render it more stable, and you should be all right, and do remember that he sometimes favors his left wrist. I believe he broke it some time back when a shipping container slammed into it.”
“Thank you.” With a nod and a wealth of emotions in his eyes, he left the ballroom with Lord Wexley keeping pace beside him.
Why did it feel as if her whole world had abandoned her as he disappeared from sight. Before she could decide what to do with herself or at the very least wrangle her emotions under control, the countess joined her and immediately took her aside.
“Why are you upset, Miss Dawson?” she said, in lieu of a greeting.
It simply wouldn’t do to show another vulgar display of rudeness in front of this woman, especially in light of what Lewis would undertake soon. “I shouldn’t say.” In fact, she owed the countess an apology, but it sat wrong in her belly to take the high road when she’d done nothing wrong.
The countess laid a gloved hand on Cecilia’s arm. Concern shadowed her eyes. “Did my son upset you? Did he end his courtship?”
Is that what she wanted to know? If so, why did she appear distressed about it? Tamping down hard on her annoyance, Cecilia shook her head. “It’s not my secret to tell.” She dashed at the escaped tears on her cheeks and wished the floor would open and swallow her whole.
Before their conversation could continue, Lewis’ youngest brother joined them. She met Lord Frampton’s gaze, where the same concern brewed that she struggled with.
He cleared his throat. “I believe Miss Dawson is annoyed and angry because Lewis is going to fight in a bout in about ninety minutes’ time with a beast of a man.”
“What?” The countess seemed far too flabbergasted for her reaction not to be genuine. “Why? He’s not sufficiently recovered from his last fight.” She huffed. “In fact, he’s just not whole and should stop such nonsense anyway.”
Some of Cecilia’s control broke. “The earl is whole enough,” she protested as she glared at the countess—her potential mother-in-law. “Yes, I was upset when he told me what he planned, and yes, he’s doing it on some misguided sense of defending my honor, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t or can’t. It was his decision.”
For the space of a few heartbeats, both the countess and her youngest son stared at her. Finally, the countess nodded. “You don’t think he should fight, either?”
“Of course not! I can defend myself, but he didn’t listen to me because he’s honorable.”
A frown creased the countess’ brow. “Then why is he going out at all? What did you promise him if he would win?”
Heated annoyance rose in her chest. “Nothing. There were no promises, and I asked him to leave it be, but he’s quite stubborn.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I have been bothered by the man he’ll fight, but Lewis wishes to teach him a lesson despite my doubts. I can cold-cock that bastard he’s fighting the same as he can. He tutored me well enough, and I did manage to land him on his arse once during lessons. So why he thinks he needs to do this as some point of honor is beyond me.” As silence reigned, she realized she’d made all of that an audible outburst in response to a countess, and she gasped. “Good heavens. I am so sorry.”
Lord Frampton gazed at her with admiration in his eyes. “Hear hear, Miss Dawson. Good show. Perhaps you are exactly what my bullheaded brother needs to keep him in line.”
Heat slapped at her cheeks. “I don’t think—”
Laughter from the countess interrupted her. She offered a disarming smile. “I am inclined to agree with Duncan. You must care for Lewis deeply if you’re upset he’s going to this fight.”
“Oh, I…” What was there to say after that last outburst? “I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“It is quite all right, dear.” In a shocking turn of events, the countess took Cecilia’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “I love him too.” Then a faint blush stained her cheeks. “I should probably offer you an apology for what I said to you at tea the other day. Now that I see how much you care for my son, I can admit I was wrong about you.”
Cecilia’s lower jaw fell open. “I appreciate that but—”
Lord Frampton chuckled. “You ladies can sort yourselves later. We should go after him and in the very least, make certain he knows he’s supported.”
“After who?” her father asked, as he approached their group.
Good heavens. Can this evening get any worse?
“My son, Lewis,” the countess said. She then introduced herself. “I am the Countess of Lethbridge, and I have just been told my son intends to fight a brute of a man in an illegal bout tonight.”
“Lovely to meet you, Your Ladyship.” Her father’s eyes sparkled. “I am Captain Dawson, Cecilia’s father.”
“A pleasure, Captain.” The countess bestowed a smile on him.
“Well then, now that the pleasantries are out of the way…” He nodded. “I agree that we should all go after the earl, and once he’s won the fight, we should collectively give him a dressing down and hope he’ll give up this insanity if he wishes for a future.”
The whole situation was becoming a farce. “This is getting out of hand,” Cecilia murmured. “I’m going myself.”
“No.” Lord Frampton shook his head. “All of us will go or no one will.” He met the eyes of each of them. “Lewis will need every bit of support he can have during the fight, and who better than the people who love him the most?”
Her father cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Your Ladyship, you shouldn’t leave your own ball.”
The countess laughed, and the tinkling sound blended with the other sounds buzzing through the ballroom. “Dear Captain Dawson, I am a widow and the mother of three grown sons.” She grinned. “I have been through crazier things than this, and by rights, I can do what I want. The ball will either carry on without me or it won’t. Either way, it’s not the end of the world, but I refuse to let this night be the potential end to my firstborn son. He still has much to offer the world.”
“As you can see, my mother is quite stubborn in her own right.” Lord Frampton’s grin was wide. “For myself, I’m going to see Lewis get his clock cleaned.” At the protests from both Cecilia and his own mother, he put up a hand. “Mostly, but he is my brother, so if he doesn’t win the bout, I’ll go after his opponent personally. No one kicks the arse of a Stapleton.”
“How has this grown out of hand?” she asked her father in a soft voice.
“When you have a collection of strong personalities, this is what happens.” He merely chuckled. “I’m accompanying you there because someone must, and I believe the night won’t simply end with a boxing match.” He winked at her. “Shall we get on with it, then?”
None of that calmed the fear coiling coldly inside her belly. “I hope he comes out of this fight more intact than not.” Because if he did, she would give him a proper dressing down for frightening her so badly. Did he not know how much she cared for him?
At least now she’d admitted it to herself. That was a huge step for her.