Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Cecily stood to one side of the dance floor and silently fumed. Her mother had insisted on her wearing a pale cream gown, with a matching ribbon in her hair. She looked pure and innocent. Her mind, however, was full of the most unladylike thoughts.
“You look lovely, my darling. I think the marquis will be enchanted,” said Lady Norris.
Cecily sipped her sickly sweet orgeat, all the while wishing it was something stronger. “You don’t think he will see past the ruse of a young chaste miss, do you? I am not exactly just out of the school room, and my reputation does proceed me.”
Her mother stiffened. “We shall do what we can. And you will play your part. Here comes your father and the marquis now.”
When she caught sight of the man her father intended for her husband, Cecily froze. Having lived much of her life outside of London, and the past eight years in Ireland, she didn’t know many of the members of the English nobility.
“You cannot be serious. How old is he?” she whispered.
Lady Norris did not reply. Instead, she stepped forward and greeted the marquis as if he was an old friend. “Lord Horsham, what a delight to see you. I was just saying to my husband only this morning that it has been an age since we last had you to dine at our home.”
Cecily gritted her teeth. He was an old friend— with the emphasis on old. The slight stoop of his shoulders and the thinning white hair on his head indicated a man with many years on her own father.
No. No. No.
The look her father shot in her direction was full of warning. She could just imagine what he was thinking. If she put a foot wrong, she would quickly find herself looking for a position as a governess.
She sucked in a deep breath and dropped into a deep curtsey. “Lord Horsham.”
Thomas Rosemount handed his mother a glass of wine and came to stand by her side.
His parents were in London for three weeks, and he felt obliged to squire his mother out to a few social events before he returned to the family estate in Northamptonshire.
His father was in town purely for the horse sales at Tattersalls and was not one for balls or parties.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
She took the glass but did not turn to look at him. His looked to where his mother’s gaze was fixed. Across the other side of the room, a middle-aged couple were greeting an older gentleman. Alongside them was a young woman, who dipped into a curtsey as she was presented to the older man.
“Not particularly. I cannot abide such things,” Thomas’s mother replied.
“What do you mean?”
She waved a finger in the direction of the gathering. “Lord and Lady Norris trying to marry their daughter off to that old codger. The Marquis of Horsham has been in the market for a wife all summer, and it looks like he has finally found one. Poor girl.”
The young woman rose from her curtsey and accepted Lord Horsham’s hand. Any thought that his mother may have been mistaken in her assessment of the situation was swept aside as the marquis leaned forward and placed a kiss on the young woman’s cheek.
Lady Rosemount shuddered. “He cannot be a day younger than seventy.”
Something clicked into place in Thomas’s brain. “Did you say Lord and Lady Norris?”
“Yes, the poor dear is their youngest daughter, Cecily. They shipped her off to her grandmother in Ireland when she was seventeen. Now it looks as if they are intending to be shot of her completely. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
Watching as the encounter played out before them, Thomas had a sudden inkling as to why Lady Cecily Norris had given the champagne more than a little nudge at the party two nights earlier.
A spirited young woman such as her would be condemned to a cold and lonely life with the marquis.
The Marquis of Horsham had a particular reputation with women that was not spoken of in mixed company.
You poor girl.