Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Cecily made her apologies as soon as she was able, mentioning a minor headache and the need for her to take a moment in the ladies’ retiring room.
As soon as she had crossed the floor of the ballroom, she made a beeline outside. She raced down the terrace steps and into the garden. Her hands were fisted in tight balls as she struggled to keep from screaming.
You fool, when will you ever learn not to believe them?
Yet again her parents had betrayed her trust. Not only did they have no intention of letting her choose her life partner, they were going to make sure she was miserable. She was going to be punished once again for having the temerity to be born.
To her relief, the house grounds were sparsely populated, the host of the gathering having had the misfortune to schedule the party on the same night as the debut of a new opera at Drury Lane.
But no sooner had Cecily sat down on a bench in a private corner of the garden and made ready to have a thoroughly good cry, when the sight of a black evening suit filled her field of vision.
The stranger took a seat next to her. She turned her head away, praying, whoever he was, that he would go away.
A gloved hand reached out and settled lightly on her forearm. “I saw you just now with Lord Horsham. My mother tells me that you may shortly be married to him; is that true?” he asked.
She nodded. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Until that moment, she had hoped that her parents may have had some thought to her future happiness but having now met the man they intended as her husband, she knew they did not. A loving parent would never sacrifice their daughter to such a life.
“Unless a miracle occurs, then yes,” she replied.
“I’m sorry, Lady Cecily. I cannot begin to even think how unhappy you must feel right now. It at least explains why you threw yourself into the arms of deep inebriation the other night.”
The stranger’s words were like a hard slap to the face. Using her evening shawl, she wiped her tears away and turned to him. “I beg your pardon. Who the devil are you?”
In the torch-lit garden, her gaze locked on a pair of dark brown eyes. Eyes which immediately drew her in.
“Ah, so you don’t remember me taking you home on Tuesday? I expect then that you don’t recall me tripping over you while you were on your knees casting up your accounts in the garden beds. You were very drunk,” he replied.
Oh. At least that solves the mystery of how I got home in one piece.
He released his hand and got to his feet, bowing low to her. “Thomas Rosemount, at your service, Lady Cecily. Forgive me if my words have offended you. They were not meant to be unkind. I shall withdraw if I am intruding on your privacy.”
He had half-turned away, ready to leave, when she summoned up the courage to stop him. At that moment, she needed a friend, even if she barely knew more than his name.
“Please don’t go,” she said.
She patted the seat of the bench next to her, and to her relief, he resumed his place. The mere presence of him beside her gave her a degree of the comfort she desperately needed.
“I am grateful to you for coming to my aid. I have only snippets of memory of the other night. It is of some relief, though deeply embarrassing, to have someone to complete the picture. But to set the record straight, I didn’t get drunk because my parents are trying to marry me off to an ancient relic.
I went to the party on an empty stomach and didn’t hold back on the champagne, mores the pity.
I could do with a few glasses of it right now,” she said.
“You are not partaking of champagne tonight?” he replied.
“No. My mother will only permit me orgeat, which is worse than drinking cheap gin, in my opinion.” She moved to sit and face him. There was a warmth about his voice and manner that demanded more of her attention.
The sight that met her gaze caused a spark in her mind to ignite. The ruffled brown hair on his head matched his eyes to perfection. When he offered her a tentative smile, she felt hot tears threaten once more.
Thomas Rosemount was lovely. With his crooked nose and squared chin, he could not be described as handsome, but she sensed that he held a stronger power than mere looks could convey. His full lips were meant for kissing a woman senseless. She felt a flash of heated lust course through her body.
That was most unexpected. Pull yourself together, Cecily. The man is trying to be nice to you, not seduce you.
She cleared her throat. “So, Thomas Rosemount, you have me at the disadvantage. You appear to know more about me than I do you. Pray tell, what is your story?”
“My story? I am afraid it is a dull one. My father is Viscount Rosemount. We breed horses at our estate, Rosemount Abbey in Northamptonshire, and I manage the stud book. I have a younger brother, Freddie, who is at university. And that is about the sum of it,” he replied.
If he had thought she would find his story boring, Cecily was determined to set Thomas straight. “Your family owns the Rosemount Abbey stables? That is magnificent.”
The bloodlines from Viscount Rosemount’s stables were legendary among those who knew and appreciated horses.
Cecily’s father owned several Rosemount-bred horses, but she was not allowed near any of them.
She suspected that if it came to a choice between his daughter and his prized horses, her father would choose the latter.
“You are a horse fancier? I don’t tend to meet too many women who are. The ones who ride on Rotten Row in Hyde Park each morning seem more interested in their attire than their mounts,” replied Thomas.
She nodded, genuinely interested in the topic of conversation.
“I lived with my grandmother in Ireland for a number of years. She imported four of your horses to her estate and I used to exercise them over the low fields of Glengad. It is only since I returned to England that I have not been able to ride. My father forbids it. I would love to ride in Hyde Park in the mornings.”
His brow furrowed at her reply, and she sensed they may share a kindred spirit.
“And yet he allows you to attend parties on your own and relies on strange men to see you safely home? That seems an odd dichotomy of sensible parenting.”
She couldn’t fault his logic. Though society would demand that she should defend her father, Cecily had long ago decided that society and its expectations of her could all go hang. “Well, there is that . . .”
Her father suddenly appeared in the doorway, and with a loud huff made his way over to where she and Thomas were seated. “I thought you said you were going to the ladies’ retiring room. This looks more like the garden to me. And who is this?”
Thomas rose and offered his hand. “Thomas Rosemount at your service, Lord Norris.”
Lord Norris took Thomas’s hand and shook it briefly. “Rosemount. Fine horses. Tell your father I shall place an order before the summer is out.”
Thomas glanced back at Cecily, before replying, “That would be for a late next-year delivery at the earliest I am afraid, Lord Norris. We have a long wait-list at present, and my father is not releasing any yearlings until after the current group of pregnant mares have given birth.”
While she appreciated Thomas’s attempt to stand up to her father, Cecily saw the expression of anger which crossed her father’s face and knew it was time she took her leave.
“It was lovely to have met you, Lord Rosemount. Perhaps someday I shall see you on the track at Rotten Row, and you will let me ride one of your horses,” she said.
“It would be my pleasure. Good night, Lady Cecily.”
Cecily and her father left Thomas behind in the garden, but as Cecily stepped back into the ballroom, her father leaned in close.
“You may wish to reconsider spending time with men in the garden at functions until after you are married. The marquis would not take kindly to knowing where you were just now, and I will not have you jeopardize my plans. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Father, crystal clear.”
While she would do as he had instructed and avoid encounters with men in gardens, Cecily was pleased that he had not mentioned anything about her being forbidden to meet them in public parks.
With that in mind she couldn’t wait to leave the party and get to bed early.