Chapter 16 #2
Turning his gaze to Cecily, he gave a small nod, and she understood with relief that he had been prepared for such a scene all along.
Red-faced and almost steaming, Lord Holt was very conscious of his present impotence and Cecily’s victory. Yet if he offended her, he might well find himself removed from the house in an even more humiliating fashion.
“Go and have our carriage brought around, Preston,” Lady Holt instructed, seeing more clearly that retreat was the only dignified course. “We are leaving. We will talk about this later with your solicitor.”
To Cecily’s immense relief, her uncle obeyed her grandmother’s command and stormed out of the room.
The tension eased immediately. The footmen resumed their duties, and Patrick went back to amusing Lilian with card and coin tricks, deliberately ignoring Mary as he had all morning.
“Goodbye, Grandmother,” Cecily said with a cold nod, deciding to visit the retiring room and re-pin some of her tumbling curls rather than wait with Lady Holt until her carriage was readied.
They had nothing more to say to each other, and there was no longer any point in pretending before the Duke’s family.
After leaving the large drawing room where the champagne had been served, Cecily paused in the hallway. She barely knew Greyhaven Park and couldn’t recall how to get to the retiring room.
Reflecting that she must ask Mrs. Barnes to give her a proper tour, she took the familiar path to the main hallway. At least, there was a quiet room in that direction, next to the cloakroom. In her mind, she checked off the various parts of the day she had dreaded but now had passed.
The wedding ceremony itself had passed without incident.
The Duke had been handsome and well-dressed by his valet, eliciting approving comments from Lady Jackson.
As Cecily had walked up the aisle on Lord Jackson’s arm, the Duke had actually smiled at her—a proper smile, rather than the expression of detached amusement he usually deployed.
Lord and Lady Holt had raised no objections to the marriage, despite Cecily’s fears of such disruption. How could they have? She was not a minor, and the marriage itself was entirely legal and proper.
Even Lilian had behaved herself in the church, cooperating with Mary and performing her bridesmaid duties, just as Miss Osborne had instructed her.
From what she had seen and heard, Cecily suspected this had far more to do with Patrick bribing the child with sweets and magic tricks than any serious change of heart regarding her father’s marriage.
Yes, aside from the perhaps unavoidable confrontation with her family, the day had gone smoothly. Now, it was time for the wedding night.
Cecily allowed herself to wonder how the Duke would be with her that night.
Would he be the handsome, smiling man who welcomed her to the altar?
The knowing seducer who had once persuaded her to pleasure herself for his delectation?
Or the ardent lover who stole kisses in secluded corners and drove her wild with unsatisfied desire?
She was jolted hard from her daydreams by an all-too-familiar and rough hand around her wrist as someone grabbed her and spun her around.
“Why must you meddle in things that don’t concern you, Cecily?” Lord Holt demanded, his breath heavy with whiskey. “You’ve always been as troublesome as your damned parents.”
“Mary does concern me,” Cecily retorted, despite the shock of his assault. “I am far more concerned for her than you have ever been.”
“You owe me! You both owe me for everything I spent raising you, and this is how you repay me, you wicked, ungrateful—aargh!”
Her uncle’s aggressive growl turned into a yelp of pain as another figure stepped forward and roughly twisted his other arm behind his back.
“Get your hands off my Duchess before I break them,” the Duke bit out. “Don’t doubt that I would, Holt. I’ve never liked bullies.”
Once Cecily was released, the Duke shoved the drunken man away from her and watched dispassionately as he stumbled on unsteady legs.
“You bastard!” Lord Holt hissed as he regained his balance.
“Your Grace is the accepted form of address for a duke, you will find,” the Duke commented. “I dare say my brother would be happy enough if I were a bastard, but my birth was entirely legitimate. Or were you only expressing your personal feelings?”
Though she was on the verge of tears, Cecily also wanted to laugh. The Duke’s contemptuous amusement was darkly funny despite the upsetting situation. Yet she feared that if she laughed or cried at this moment, she might not be able to stop.
Upright again and blinking stupidly, Lord Holt seemed to be reconsidering his attitude.
“Your Grace,” he began to say, “I did not mean to—”
“Get out of my house,” the Duke snapped, cutting him off. “Get out, or I will throw you out.”
Briefly, Lord Holt seemed ready to argue, but then he nodded dumbly and turned away, slinking out of the house like an injured animal.
As Cecily lowered her guard once more, a sob escaped her lips.