Chapter 37 #3
He smiled, showing teeth. ‘Most ladies would think such a noble connection something to boast of. But I see that you are not like other ladies. Your delicate modesty is quite delightful – has anyone ever told you so? I must confess, every time I see you, I find myself more and more enchanted.’ His Lordship was looking at her with what he no doubt intended to be a soulful expression, but she could only see it as false and calculating.
He reached for her unwilling hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed her fingers, one by one, and agonisingly slowly. ‘Enchanting Miss Cecilia!’ he murmured.
Suddenly, disastrously, she had had enough.
She pulled her hand out of his grasp, not without a little difficulty.
If she’d not been wearing gloves, she’d have felt a strong desire to scrub at her flesh till it felt clean, assuming it ever would.
Instead, she thought she’d throw the gloves away.
She’d never be able to wear them again without thinking of his lips on them, and shuddering.
Most of the Constantines suffered from the affliction of a hasty temper; Cecilia was better than some, but worse than others.
She could be sunny-natured enough for long stretches of time, but when pushed beyond endurance, she would inevitably snap, with unpredictable results.
And she was excessively tired of Lord Pallant and his preposterously flowery compliments.
She wouldn’t have enjoyed hearing such sickly nonsense from anyone, but when they came from a man who was keeping his housemaid as his mistress, was widely rumoured to be a rapist, and had half a dozen natural children that he refused to acknowledge or support scattered through the neighbourhood, such attentions must be revolting to her.
‘Sir,’ she said crisply, happy to feel that she was being honest to herself again at last, whatever the consequences might be, ‘a week or two ago, you approached me in the street and practically forced your acquaintance on me. Since then, I have heard most disturbing rumours about your mode of life, from sources I am bound to trust. As a result of that unwelcome intelligence, I have been behaving like a perfect fool every time I have been in your company, with the fixed intention of driving you off. I have said and done ridiculous things, and yet you have smiled and swallowed them. You have not been deterred, but have instead redoubled your attentions. I simply cannot believe that this is because you are enamoured of the person you have seen me to be, because I don’t see how anybody could be.
I am far more inclined to suspect that your sudden passion has been caused by my sudden acquisition of a fortune and a share in a property that once belonged to your family.
And tonight, wherever I turn, you dog my steps, and kiss my fingers in a quite nauseating manner.
I don’t know if you think that you are charming me – I suppose you must. But it isn’t working – quite the opposite.
Could you please leave me alone, tonight and forever, and tell your brother to leave my sister Bianca alone into the bargain?
To make matters quite plain, none of us may marry for a year, nor even become betrothed in that time, by the strict terms of Mrs Albery’s will, but in any case, I shall never marry you.
I would not take you if you were the last man left alive in England. ’
His Lordship had endured this tirade in white-faced silence.
Cecilia’s voice had not been loud, but it had been perfectly clear, and without question, he had heard every word.
The expression on his handsome face now was excessively ugly, and he stepped towards her menacingly, seemingly not entirely in control of himself. ‘Why, you insolent little b—’
‘Don’t,’ said a deep voice close behind him.
‘Pallant, I’ve no objection to you making a cod’s head of yourself in front of everyone in the county, but if you insult this lady any further, you must be aware of the consequences.
If you are wise, you will unclench your fists, step away from Miss Constantine, and refrain from uttering another word.
Ideally, you’d leave without a further syllable spoken. ’
The Major was looking particularly forbidding, his hands held loosely at his sides, as if in readiness to strike should Pallant move as much as an inch towards Cecilia.
His brother stood shoulder to shoulder with him, his aspect equally grim.
They were not alone; Miss Macintyre was behind them, along with Mrs Bartrum, Mrs Drinkwater, and the frowning vicar.
All of them were glaring at the Baron, waiting for his response. He would find no supporters here.
His Lordship drew a long breath, and his expression became a little less fixed, even slightly amused.
Perhaps he was aware that, where the Constantines were concerned, he’d burnt his boats.
There could be no coming back from this.
‘You’d challenge me to a duel over a worthless jade, would you, Bartrum? How medieval of you.’
The Major’s features did not relax, nor did his vigilance.
‘Duelling is ridiculous, and also illegal. But if you insult a young lady who has merely told you the plain truth and asked you to leave her alone just once more, I’ll be happy to meet you and put a bullet in you, wherever and whenever you choose.
That’s if you think you can persuade a second other than your brother to stand by you.
I can’t imagine where you’re going to find someone who is happy to embroil himself with a man who’s fighting an affair of “honour” only because his most marked attentions were disagreeable to a young lady, and he threated and insulted her when she told him so.
I know it’s a struggle for a man of your enormous consequence to admit, but you are squarely in the wrong.
Let’s have no pointless heroics, therefore.
You will not provoke me to a vulgar tussle here, if that’s what you’re trying to do. Go!’
Lord Pallant shot a perfectly venomous look at Cecilia, and she met it steadily.
Looking about him and seeing only unsympathetic faces, the Baron did not utter another word, only nodded tersely at nobody in particular, then turned on his heel and walked away.
Most of the people present had carried on dancing or conversing, without the least notion that anything was wrong, but Lady Synett’s penetrating tones could be heard over the music, demanding to know what precisely had happened, and what had she missed?