Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“Are you going to be my aunt?” Adeline asked.
Deborah coughed on her tea and set her cup down with a loud clank.
“Why would you ask that?” Deborah asked.
Adeline shrugged.
“You are not here to be my nanny or governess. You would have told me that right away as all the others had,” Adeline explained, then chortled, “You also would have tried to order me right back to bed. Not that I would have listened.”
Deborah raised an amused brow at the little girl’s bluntness.
“How old are you, Adeline?” Deborah asked.
“Ten,” she answered dismissively, picking apart the scone she’d taken from the pantry as the tea was brewing. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” Deborah answered.
“Mm. My mother was thirty-two when she died. You are much younger than her.”
Deborah paused, not sure how to respond.
“What are you doing here if you are not going to be my aunt or my governess?” Adeline asked next.
Deborah drew in a breath, again, not sure how to respond.
“At present I am just taking the night,” she answered at last.
“Taking the night to what?” Adeline countered.
Deborah let out a weak laugh.
“I suppose even I am not sure. I am supposed to be sleeping, but that has not worked out for either of us. And I am also supposed to be making a decision. Which I have not done yet either.”
“What is it you have to decide?” Adeline asked.
Deborah was silent for a long moment, her concentration broken. She had not seen them in the hall, but now that they were seated at the small work table in the kitchens, Deborah noticed that there were pale purple and blue bruises on her arms, as if someone had grabbed her.
Her stomach twisted in discomfort. Cedric was a vulgar mushroom, she knew, but was he so awful as to hurt the girl?
“Deborah,” Adeline said, and flicked a crumb of scone at her.
Deborah tsked her tongue in a scolding manner as she brushed the crumb from her nightgown.
“I must decide on our futures,” she replied.
Adeline made a face.
“Our futures?” She asked, “But you do not even know me.”
“No,” Deborah mused, “But I am beginning to wonder if I should.”
Adeline continued to look at her oddly.
“You are very strange,” she stated.
“Hm. Perhaps,” Deborah replied, then quickly added, “Now it is my turn to ask the questions.”
“But you did not really even answer mine!” Adeline retorted with a frown.
“Why do you not like your uncle?” Deborah asked, ignoring Adeline’s complaint and focusing once more on her bruises.
“He is nothing like my parents. Even if he is my mother’s brother,” Adeline answered, her tone bitter.
“I never even met him before she died. He just showed up at her funeral, told me he was to watch over me from now on, and brought me here. I barely see him. Barely talk to him. Not that I want to, mind you. He will not play with me like my parents used to. He just keeps hiring more nannies and governesses, who have all been awful.”
Then a satisfied look took over Adeline’s face as she crossed her arms.
“I ran them all off, though,” she stated proudly. “If they cannot be nice to me, I will certainly not be nice to them.”
“And your uncle? Is he nice when you do see him?” Deborah pushed, wanting to know if those bruises were from him.
“He’s not anything,” Adeline replied with a shrug. “I am not even sure he notices me.”
Deborah tried, through carefully phrased questions that were not exactly direct, to discover who had given Adeline those marks for the next hour.
Yet not one of them brought her any closer to discovering the creator of them.
She did, however, discover that Adeline, while obviously a little wild child, was also very lonely, and that this feeling was no doubt the cause of her disruptive behavior.
She also discovered that she was the first woman, aside from the various governesses and nannies, that Cedric had ever brought to the house in the year since Adeline moved in, which she found quite odd, given his reputation.
Though she supposed that was what brothels were for.
At one point, with their tea long since drunk, Adeline announced that she was bored with Deborah’s questions and was going to go back to her room.
Deborah bid her goodnight, but Adeline just sighed carelessly, so much like her uncle, and left.
For a long while, Deborah stayed in the kitchens alone, pondering what she was going to do.
“I have made a decision,” Deborah announced.
Cedric looked up from his newspaper as he sat at the breakfast table, a dark brow perked.
“Good morning to you as well, Miss Hunt,” Cedric replied. “I trust your night was pleasant enough?”
“Hardly,” she retorted dryly. In fact, she had not slept a single moment, even after she finally found her way back to her room.
Without waiting for an invitation, Deborah went to the chair to Cedric’s right. He smirked as he watched her, and a moment later, a maid appeared with a cup of tea.
“May I get you anything to break your fast, Miss?” the maid asked politely.
Deborah turned to her with a smile. “Two poached three-minute eggs would be lovely, thank you. And some buttered toast if you please.”
“Of course, Miss, my pleasure,” the maid replied, and quickly left.
“Well, it is nice to know you can still be kind. Even if it is not toward me,” Cedric mused.
She leveled an icy look at him and snickered.
“I give kindness where kindness is due,” she replied coldly.
Cedric chortled as he closed his newspaper and turned his body toward her in his chair.
“So, you have made a decision?” He asked. “Are you paying me or wedding me?”
His tone was so casual, as if the question was not at all what decided her future. It caused her annoyance to flare, and Deborah drew in a deep breath through her nostrils to stop the snapping retort she had in mind.
“I will accept your proposal,” she said once she calmed down, “But aside from your offer last night. I have two other conditions.”
“A lady who can haggle, how fascinating,” Cedric replied, his deep voice mocking.
This time Deborah chose to ignore it, figuring she would need to build up such a tolerance if he was going to accept her conditions.
“First and foremost, I want to repeat what I said in the carriage last night- you will not touch me. Even if we are married, I am not going to consummate with you.”
“How very disappointing,” Cedric sighed boredly, “But not at all unexpected. Fine. I have plenty of willing women just waiting for me to call on them.”
Though Deborah was starting to grow familiar with his devil-may-care attitude, she was still startled by the open confession he just made about not being faithful.
It does not matter. It is not as if this is a real marriage. Why should I care where he finds his pleasures?
“Fine,” she replied, trying to sound as bored as he did.
“And your second condition?” Cedric asked, resting his chin in his palm as he looked at her with open boredom.
“I had a certain goal that I was trying to achieve last night,” Deborah explained. “You ruined it. When the time comes, I want your help to achieve that goal.”
Interest sparked in Cedric’s dark eyes.
“What sort of goal?” He asked.
Deborah debated whether to trust him with the truth or not as the maid reappeared with her eggs and toast. She took her time deliberating as she cracked her first egg open with her spoon and spread the lightly cooked egg atop her toast. It was only after she finished her first bite that she made the decision to be honest.
“I want revenge,” she stated, then licked a bit of crumb from her bottom lip.
She did not miss the way Cedric’s gaze shifted immediately from her eyes to her lips.
“Revenge for what?” Cedric asked, his eyes still fixed on her lips.
“You said last night that I would not have wished to be purchased by the man in the gray mask if I had known who he was. But that was precisely what I wanted. I know that man was Sylvester Fairbourne, the Earl of Whitford and the sole responsible for ruining my sister.”
Cedric’s gaze shifted back up to her eyes, and if she did not know any better, she would have thought he was impressed.
“What a fascinating twist of events,” Cedric mused, leaning toward her. “Pray, tell me more.”
“No,” Deborah quickly replied, drawing the proverbial line in the sand, and was instantly annoyed again when Cedric had the nerve to pout his lips.
“How am I supposed to help you if I do not know precisely what I am to be helping you with?” Cedric asked.
“You will know when I want you to know,” she replied coolly, and she was answered with a roll of his eyes and a sigh of disappointment. Still, a moment later, Cedric agreed.
“Very well,” he sighed, “If for any reason, because I am now so very intrigued about how this is all going to unfold.”
He slapped the table, making her jump as a grin spread across his face.
“Consider your conditions met, my darling bride-to-be. " However, I would like to make one caveat to your first condition.”
Deborah bristled.
“I thought you were not interested in forcing women?” She asked.
“I am not,” he agreed, a devilish glint taking over his dark eyes; he leaned in close.
Once more, Deborah caught his intoxicating scent of juniper and evergreen and held her breath as her heart fluttered.
“However,” he said, his voice dropping to a seductive tone as his eyes raked down her face, over her throat, and toward her bosom, “If you beg for my touch, I fear I may very well have to break that promise.”
Deborah forced out a groan of disgust, even as butterflies erupted in her stomach.
“There is nothing for you to fear, as that will never happen,” she willed herself to say.
Cedric raised a brow as that devilish grin of his remained in place. Slowly, he got out of his chair, his hands slipping into his pockets as he leaned in hip against the edge of the table by Deborah’s left arm, and leaned in; his warm breath tickling her ear and making her heart pound wildly.
“I have heard such words before many times in my life,” he whispered, “Yet no woman has ever kept her word.”
He grazed the tip of his nose against her ear, so very lightly that she barely felt it. Yet even so, the touch had her nerves jolting alive and sparking.
“You are so naive,” he cooed, “So very innocent. I would wager you have no idea what you are denying yourself.”
She hated his words, but the tone in his voice was soft, intimate, as if he were whispering to a lover. It had Deborah’s mind snapping with rage as her body vibrated with desire- a most frustrating combination, and one she’d never before experienced.
“No matter,” Cedric sighed, dropping that seductive tone and reaching for his usual coyness, “You are safe. I have no interest in such innocence. I prefer my partners to have much more…” his eyes raked down her as he smirked, “Experience,” he finished.
“Still,” he added, raising a warning finger as he pushed himself away from the table and walked back to his chair, “I would not attempt to provoke me. I am a man willing to try anything once.”
His taunting tones and vulgar words extinguished any desire she’d once had a moment ago, and she sneered at him as she battled the urge to slap his face and demand he apologize.
“Finish your breakfast,” he ordered condescendingly as he flicked his newspaper open again, “We will leave for London in an hour. You may visit with your family while I work on obtaining a special license. If all goes well, we will by married by midweek.”
“And what of your niece, Adeline?” Deborah asked, barely dampening the rage in her voice.
Cedric looked over his newspaper at her.
“So, you two have met?” He asked.
She gave a stiff nod.
“Last night. She should not be left alone so much.”
Cedric shrugged as he lowered his head to his newspaper again.
“She is used to it,” he replied. “Besides. The servants are here is she should need anything. And when we return as a married couple, you can spend all the time you wish with her. In fact, I expect it. Now, are you going to finish your eggs on your own, or am I going to have to feed them to you? Honest warning, I would not mind that so much.”
An image flashed in Deborah’s mind. One where she picked up her untouched egg and crushed it into his hair, smearing its runny contents until his entire head and face were covered with it. She smirked, liking the thought tremendously, and finished her breakfast.