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  “Can’t.”

  “Why not? After all, I had the nerve to dismiss someone so eligible as Edgewater.”

  “You’re too tender-hearted. Before you know it, you’d be feeling so sorry for any man you jilted you’d likely become engaged to him again out of pity. And then you wouldn’t be branded a jilt. Only fickle.”

  Cecily stopped, a frown creasing her brow, and Alex looked back at her, inquiringly. “Do you think me fickle, sir?”

  “No,” he answered seriously, aware that she was no longer flirting or teasing. “I think you chose the wrong man, and realized it in time.” Thank God. “Why, in God’s name, did you choose him in the first place?”

  “I don’t know.” Cecily’s brow knotted again. “I suppose I was flattered—he is very handsome, you know, and quite good ton. And he seemed to feel the same way I do, about helping the poor.”

  “Does he?” Alex said, casually, letting Azrael stop and graze, as Dancer was doing. That was interesting. It accorded with what he had learned of the man, that his politics tended towards the radical, though he tried to disguise such leanings.

  “Yes. But, it’s funny.” Her frown deepened. “The more I came to know him, the less handsome he looked to me. And I don’t think he really cares about the poor at all. I don’t think he cares about anybody. He seems to look down on everybody. I don’t think he likes himself very much.”

  “Indeed? I’d have said the opposite.”

  “No, because, you see, why else would he need to feel himself so above others? I knew someone like that, once, the vicar’s daughter in Marlow. She thought everyone was beneath her. Papa explained that the only way she could feel good about herself was to make other people look bad.”

  “I never thought of that,” Alex said, after a moment. If that were true, it, too, accorded with his findings, a man seeking power to make himself feel important. It also could mean that Cecily was in even more danger than he’d thought. “He’ll see the broken engagement as an insult, Cecily.”

  The sound of him using her name startled her enough so that she didn’t take in what he had said right away. “You were serious, then?” she said. “You think he might try to get back at me?”

  “I think it’s possible. Which is why you shouldn’t ride alone anymore.”

  “But I’ve always been perfectly safe!”

  “Until now.” His eyes, meeting hers, were serious. “Remember the other night.”

  Cecily glanced away. “I’ve been trying not to,” she whispered, and a silence fell between them.

  “Trust me on this, Cecily,” he said, after a few moments. “Riding alone isn’t safe under normal circumstances. If you must ride, at least take a groom with you. Or let me know.”

  Cecily’s eyes were as serious as his. “That sounds, sir, as if you are suggesting an assignation.”

  “I mean no insult, ma’am.”

  “Oh, no. I’ve just always wondered what it would be like to have an assignation with a rake.”

  Alex put back his head and laughed, and Cecily watched him with real pleasure. It struck her then that he had changed since she had first met him—had it only been a month ago? The world-weary air had dropped away, and with it some of the pain she had glimpsed in his eyes. The man he had been then wouldn’t have laughed like this. He looked younger, freer, happier, and she wondered, with even more pleasure, if she’d had something to do with the change.

  Alex’s eyes were brimming with mirth. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about you, Cecily, my girl—”

  “I’m not your girl.” Am I?

  “—but I’m glad I met you.”

  “Are you?” Gone was all flirtatiousness; in its place was a soft appeal that Alex found altogether too inviting.

  “Yes. Who else do I know who has a dancing horse?”

  Cecily made a face. “Oh, so it’s the novelty you like.”

  Partly it was, he admitted. Mostly, though, it was something else. “Don’t ever change.” All laughter was gone from him. “Don’t let them change you into a bored society matron.”

  “I won’t,” she said, startled.

  “You’re very special,” he said, gruffly, and turned Azrael away. “Come. It’s getting late. I’ll see you home.”

  “All right.” Cecily fell into step beside him, her mind whirling with the implications and the complications of this encounter. “I hope Papa doesn’t find out, though.”

  “I’ve a feeling your father won’t mind. Come.” He gestured towards her, and they rode away together, towards home.

  Their voices had faded when a man stepped from behind a tree, leading a nervous bay gelding. So, Edgewater thought, mounting and riding away. His plans to take Lady Cecily by surprise during her early morning ride had gone awry. Which was probably just as well. When he had seen Cecily streak by him, head bent low over the head of her mount, he had realized that he could never catch her. He had never liked riding, and consequently he didn’t ride well. It was one more thing he could hold against her, one more thing he would have to deal with, that a mere woman could be superior to him in anything. And deal with her, he would. He had to, else she would be too much of a danger to him.

  Thoughtful, he rode on, ignoring the bone-jarring gait of his mount, chosen for appearance rather than his ride or his stamina. How he was going to get to her was another matter. Like most other young ladies, she rarely left her house unaccompanied, except for these rides. He’d learned about them some time ago, after bribing a footman. Much good it had done him, though, now that St. Clair had appeared by Cecily’s side.

  Edgewater’s face hardened, and he grasped the reins tighter, so that his mount shied. There was his real nemesis. If not for St. Clair, Cecily would not have left the ball the other evening, and they would still be engaged. Someday, Edgewater vowed, St. Clair would pay for that. There was something else about the man, too, something Edgewater couldn’t identify, but which troubled him. He appeared in too many places at opportune times, the Radcliffes’ garden the other evening, for example, or the park this morning. It couldn’t be because of Lady Cecily’s charms, he thought, sneering a bit; those were nonexistent. No, St. Clair was up to something else, and he would have to find out just what. Nothing was going to stop him now.

  Chapter Twelve

  “The Duchess of Marlow. Lady Cecily Randall, Lady Diana Randall,” the footman intoned, and the people gathered in the drawing room looked around. The news that Lady Cecily’s engagement to the Marquess of Edgewater had been broken had been announced only that morning, and the room was abuzz with speculation. Cecily was well-liked, but there was no question that she occasionally got up to mad starts. Waltzing with St. Clair at Almack’s, for example. No young woman wishing to guard her reputation would do such a thing. It made one wonder just what else she might do, and how a man like Edgewater might react. He was, after all, a catch. What made peoples’ tongues wag even more was that he was present tonight.

  “My dears.” Smiling broadly, the Countess of Chatleigh crossed the room, her hands outstretched. “Your Grace. How very good of you to come.”

  “Thank you, Lady Chatleigh,” the duchess said graciously. “Such a crowd as you have here tonight! It is a sad crush.”

  “Yes, quite sad,” the countess said, her face straight. “Chatleigh and I planned to hold only a small do, to announce that we’d returned to town, but I’m afraid that once Aunt Helmsley heard of it things—well, changed.” She shrugged, but a smile played about her lips.

  “Dear Lady Helmsley. I must have a word with her. Is she here?”

  “Yes, your Grace, on the sofa over there. Cecily, you look lovely! And Lady Diana, your gown is beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Melissa.” Cecily briefly pressed her cheek against Melissa’s. Though married, and with an infant daughter, Lady Chatleigh was only a year older than Cecily. The two had become fast friends last year, during Cecily’s first season. “It’s so good to see you again! I have so much to tell you.”
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  “I can imagine.” Melissa took Cecily’s arm and strolled with her into the room, alive with conversation and movement and color. “My dear, I must warn you that Edgewater is here.”

  “Here? Tonight?” Cecily stopped short, unable to hide her dismay, though she was aware of people watching her.

  “Here? Where?” Diana demanded.

  “I fear so. We had invited him before all this happened, else we wouldn’t have. I am sorry.”

  “Well, I’m not. I don’t understand it at all, Lady Chatleigh, do you?” Diana’s eyes were very blue and very guileless. “I mean, he’s so handsome!”

  “I explained it to you, Diana,” Cecily murmured. “We decided we didn’t suit.”

  “Well, he didn’t look as if he thought so yesterday, after leaving Papa.”

  Cecily’s smile was strained. “People are watching us, Di.”

  “And it’s none of their concern, of course, though I fear you’ll be asked a lot of questions tonight,” Melissa said. “Lady Helmsley wishes to speak with you.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Don’t worry.” Melissa smiled. “I believe she wishes to congratulate you.”

  Cecily glanced at her sidewise. “You never did like Edgewater, did you?”

  “Not very much, no.”

  “Why not?”

  Melissa shook her head. “It’s past history. But I’d watch out for him, Cecily. He can be vindictive.”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She had no desire for a confrontation with Edgewater, not here, not anywhere.

  “Oh, but there is someone here I think you should meet,” the countess chattered, leading Cecily into the room. Cecily glanced down at her, radiant in emerald green satin that brought out the fire in her coppery curls. Lady Chatleigh was not only beautiful, but a kind and generous person. And happily married. Cecily envied her that. “He’s a school friend of Chatleigh’s, and he’s been on the Continent the past few years. He stayed at the Hall with us last year and I found him quite charming. And,” she added, thoughtfully, “more lonely than he cares to admit.”

  Cecily smiled. “Melissa, please! I’ve just broken my engagement. Surely you’re not matchmaking already.”

  “Of course not, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. But I do think you’ll like each other. Stay right there and I’ll find him.” She threaded her way through the crowd, leaving Cecily to stare after her, bemused.

  “I don’t understand it, Cece,” Diana hissed in her ear. “Why did you break your engagement?”

  “I didn’t love him, Di.”

  “I know you didn’t, but you said—”

  “I know. I said we’d suit. I was wrong. Isn’t it better for us to find out now?”

  “But he’s so handsome and charming—”

  “If you feel that way, why don’t you marry him?”

  “Really, Cece.” Diana pouted. “There’s no need for you to snap at me so.”

  “That woman terrifies me,” the duchess said, returning to them and plying her fan vigorously. “She always asks me questions I can’t answer and then smiles! So warm in here, don’t you think? She’s a dragon, but she has such power, it doesn’t do to ignore her. Where is Lady Chatleigh?”

  “Gone to find someone she wants me to meet,” Cecily said.

  “Edgewater is here, Mama,” Diana put in.

  “Yes, so I’ve been told. I do hope you won’t cause a scene, Cecily.”

  “I—!” Cecily began, and then broke off, her eyes widening a bit at the sight of the man on Lady Chatleigh’s arm, coming towards them.

  “Oh, gracious, she isn’t really going to present him to you, is she?” the duchess exclaimed.

  “Mama, remember what Papa said.”

  “Yes, I know Marlow said we must receive him after the other night, but really, Cecily, this is the outside of enough! St. Clair.” The duchess held out two fingers, her smile polite. “How very nice to see you again.”

  “Your Grace.” Alex bowed over her hand, only the look in his eyes telling Cecily what he really thought of this meeting. “A pleasure to see you again, ma’am. May I say how very well you look tonight?” he said, with his most charming smile.

  “Why, thank you, sir.” Flustered, the duchess put her hand to her hair, as if to check that her feathered headdress was straight, and Cecily, her eyes briefly meeting Alex’s, bit back a smile.

  “I see you do know each other already,” Melissa said brightly. “I’ll just leave you then, shall I? I fear I must see to the refreshments.”

  Her going left an awkward silence. Alex sent an inquiring glance towards Cecily, who simply smiled. She wasn’t about to tell him what she suspected the countess of. Matchmaking, indeed! Her eyes were thoughtful, though, as she looked at him, so handsome in black evening coat and pantaloons it made her heart ache. He could have any woman he desired. Why would he be interested in her?

  “I see someone I must speak to,” the duchess said, her voice, for her, unusually firm. “If you will excuse us, sir—”

  “Let me escort you, ma’am. Three such beautiful ladies should not be left alone.”

  “Gracious!” The duchess stared at him. “Thank you, that is very kind of you.” Placing her fingers on his arm, she let him bring her over to some acquaintances, her daughters following. Cecily had to bite back another smile, at the look on her mother’s face. Even she, apparently, was not immune to St. Clair’s charm.

  It was some time before Cecily was able to have a word with Alex, and during that time, her amusement grew, as she watched him with others. He had apparently been accepted, scandalous reputation or no, and to see him talking with bejeweled dowagers or painfully shy debutantes was enlightening. He knew quite well how to handle women; he was the epitome of the man about town, and yet every now and then he glanced at her, his expression wry, as if he realized quite well what was happening and was as amused by it as she.

  “You have become quite respectable, sir,” Cecily said, sipping the punch that he brought her, sometime later. “I heard even Lady Helmsley spoke well of you.”

  “‘And with every word, a reputation dies,’” he quoted, making her laugh. “You look well tonight, Cecily. I didn’t have the chance to tell you before.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Cecily’s tone was light, but she was pleased; her gown of rose satin with its blond lace overdress was new, and somewhat more sophisticated than she usually wore. In it she felt adult, and very attractive. “The countess is quite beautiful, is she not?”

  “Indeed. And very married, as well.”

  “So she is not one of your flirts?”

  “My flirts? But, madam, as you just pointed out, I’ve become respectable.” His eyes twinkled. “Even the Duchess of Marlow speaks to me now.”

  “Yes, Papa told her to,” she murmured, taking a sip of her punch. “I suspect people are talking about us, sir.”

  “Let them.” He scanned the milling crowd. “Edgewater is here. Have you seen him?”

  “No, thank heavens. I suppose I shall have to face him someday, but I’d rather it not be here. There’s been enough talk.”

  “Better before a group of people than alone.”

  Cecily shot him a glance. He really did believe Edgewater might try to hurt her, though the more she thought about it, the less she credited it. Certainly he had scared her the other evening, but he was a gentleman, was he not? And he seemed too languid, too civilized, to attempt anything so savage as revenge. “I’ll be glad to put it all behind me.”

  “Indeed.” Alex nodded absently. He wished it were all behind them, too, wished that the plot were known, the conspirators arrested, so that he could be free. Free to do what? At the moment, he wasn’t certain he knew.

  Other acquaintances came up, speaking to him and drawing him away, so that he lost sight of Cecily. Anxiety clawed at him, and he pushed it away. She would be safe enough in this mob. He could relax his vigilance.

  “There he is,” Diana said suddenly, and Cecily, seated
beside her on a satin-striped sofa and talking to Anthony Carstairs, looked up. Across the room, through the crowd, she saw the man she least wished to see. Edgewater.

  She froze. His eyes were fastened on her, and the look in them chilled her. They were cold, implacable, inimical. Alex’s words of warning came back to her, and she thanked God there were enough people about to protect her.

  “Don’t you see him?” Diana said, impatiently.

  “Yes. I see him.”

  “He is so handsome.”

  “Something of a peacock, wouldn’t you say?” Mr. Carstairs said. Lately he’d taken to emulating Alex as his ideal.

  “Oh, no.” Diana sighed. “He is a man. Oh, look, he’s coming our way!”

  “Oh, no.” Cecily began to rise, and her sister’s hand clamped on her arm.

  “You can’t go,” she hissed. “It will cause a scene, and you know what Mama said!”

  Where was her mother? Cecily glanced around frantically as Edgewater continued to bear down on her. And where, oh where, was St. Clair?

  “Good evening, Lady Cecily. Lady Diana, Carstairs.” Edgewater’s voice was smooth and urbane.

  Cecily forced herself to look up. “Good evening, sir.” Not by any gesture would she show how much he frightened her.

  “You are looking as lovely as usual, Lady Diana. And, Lady Cecily. Your hair is coming down. Also as usual.”

  Cecily’s hand flew to her hair, and she forced it down. “How ungallant of you, sir.”

  “Is it? But then, you must know I have only your good in mind. Though I wonder now why I bothered to propose to you, when your sister is so much more attractive.”

  “You are insulting, sir!” she exclaimed, rising, not caring who noticed. He had touched on a sore spot, and though she cared naught for him, it hurt. “I will not stay here and listen—”

  “Ah, but you wouldn’t wish to cause a scene, would you, my dear?” His voice was silken, but his hand caught her arm in an iron grip. “People are staring at us now.”