Lady And The Cad Read online

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-59310-243-7

  Copyright © 2004 by Tamela Hancock Murray. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  One

  Cecil, the Earl of Sutton, watched the crowd of young lords and ladies mingling in the packed ballroom of Lady Olivia Hamilton’s London town house. He yawned. Such gatherings were always a bore. He only appeared to appease Olivia. He wished he could have spent the day fox hunting and the evening with a small group of his friends. Several were at the party, also appearing under duress. At least they could enjoy the comforts of fine food and drink while they commiserated.

  Cecil knew the crowd. They were the usual lot. Silly young girls tried to capture attention by waving their fans, hoping to land titled husbands. The young lords flirted with sweet words and strutted like proud roosters when interested. Matrons watched and guided prospective matches, sending silent signals to their charges. Older bachelors mingled, meeting their social obligations with practiced skill. All were engaged in lively conversation, some haughty, some playful, but all with a hint of contrived sophistication. The same crowd. The same drama.

  But tonight, as he stood by the fire, he eyed someone new.

  “Who is that lovely creature?” Cecil asked his friend, Lord Milton Fleming.

  Milton peered through the crush of people in the ballroom. “Do you mean that little country mouse who is presently conversing with Lady Evangeline?”

  “Country mouse?” He studied the slim blond. “I think of her more as a butterfly.”

  “Really? I still think of her as Miss Eunice Norwood, Little Country Mouse.” He looked down his nose at the lady, then raised his eyebrows, a sure sign he didn’t agree with Cecil. “Do you not see how simple her dress is when compared with the rest of the ladies’ frocks? And she does not move with the style and elegance of the sophisticated ladies of London.”

  Milton’s objections made the girl seem all the more intriguing. Cecil watched her conversing for a few seconds more. At first blush, she fit right in with the crowd. But further observation revealed that she was a touch different. Different in a charming, unaffected way.

  And true, her ball dress looked like a castoff of Olivia’s from the previous season. He squinted. Yes. Yes it was. He remembered the blue silk gown. Olivia had never been pleased with the way it hung on her figure. But the way it clung to the slim figure on the beautiful blond—a pocket Venus to be sure—left him wanting to learn more about her. Not wishing to stare, he struggled to take his glance away from her.

  He gathered his thoughts and replied, “You seem as if you want to discourage me from making her acquaintance. Surely nothing could be further from the truth?” He sent his friend a sly smile.

  Milton chuckled. “Miss Norwood is not my concern. But I thought you of all people would have been introduced to her. After all, she is Olivia’s cousin.”

  “Olivia’s cousin?” He paused, then nodded. “Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, I do recollect Olivia mentioning that her cousin would be passing through town. I just never thought she would appear on the night of the ball.”

  “Like Cinderella, eh?”

  “Still reading fairy tales at bedtime? Milton, I thought you would have moved on to better things by now,” he remarked in jest.

  “More difficult tomes, perhaps,” Milton said, “but I cannot imagine a better story than the fantasy of a poor orphaned girl meeting her Prince Charming and being swept off to the palace in a magical carriage.”

  “The fantasy that keeps many women hoping and wishing that men such as ourselves will one day do their bidding, no doubt.” Cecil chuckled.

  Milton gulped down some wine. “Without such fairy tales, we might be lonely, indeed.”

  Cecil let out a hearty laugh at his friend’s joke. “Lonely, indeed.” Cecil focused on the blond and noticed that Olivia hovered near her.

  Ah, Olivia! She was a vision in pink silk and lace embellishments. The new gown she had ordered to be sewn for the occasion suited her to exquisite perfection.

  His gaze returned to the blond. To his discomfort, Cecil realized that Olivia didn’t seem just at her peak any longer. With Miss Norwood standing beside Olivia, anyone could see that no yardage of silk or reams of intricate lace could offer a substitute for the bloom of youth.

  Immediately to Olivia’s right, he spied a dowager with bags under her eyes and a hooked nose. Ringlets, while appealing around a young and fair countenance, looked rather childish when framing the matron’s wrinkled and powdered face. He couldn’t imagine anyone cared how the grande dame was dressed. Cecil realized the woman had never left Eunice’s side since she had arrived. “Apparently, Cinderella brought along her fairy godmother.”

  “Really? I thought the fairy godmother was supposed to stay behind during the ball,” Milton noted. “But if that is the best she can look despite all her magic, I conjecture that a pumpkin, rather than a coach, will be awaiting our Cinderella long before midnight.”

  Cecil grinned and tried to catch a glimpse of the blond’s feet. “Shall I venture to see if our Cinderella is wearing glass slippers?”

  “Only if you believe yourself to be her Prince Charming.”

  “As long as she stays under such watchful eyes, Miss Norwood will find herself unable to find a Prince Charming of any description.”

  “I must agree. By standing so close all evening, she offers her charge no latitude whatsoever.” Milton studied Eunice. “Perhaps there is a reason, my boy. Do you think your country mouse might be the prettiest girl in her little parish?”

  Cecil decided not to offer an opinion for fear an unwise comment could be overheard and repeated to Olivia. Eunice appeared to be more than a few years younger than Lady Olivia Hamilton, his paramour of the past five years. Even if Olivia had still been in her prime, Eunice would have offered her competition for beaux.

  “I would advise you to get those thoughts out of your head now,” Milton cautioned.

  “What thoughts?” Cecil asked coyly.

  “You know what thoughts. Any notion that you might abandon Olivia for her cousin’s charms.” Milton trained his eye in Olivia’s direction and let his gaze roll over Olivia’s buxom frame.

  As he observed Milton ogling Olivia, Cecil felt no jealousy or possessiveness. The lack of emotion surprised him. “Since you fancy yourself a mind reader, perhaps you would offer to entertain us later with your talents.”

  “I shall save my hidden talents for my own ball.” Milton sipped his brandy, watching the women over the rim of his snifter. “Our hostess may be approaching thirty, but she is still a formidable rival against any of the women here.”

  “Indubitably.”

  Milton swirled his glass in circular motions. “Tell me something, Cecil. Why have you not made an honest woman out of Olivia?”

  Cecil didn’t answer right away. His long-standing relationship with Olivia was known but not acknowledged in the most formal of manners, so Milton’s question came as no surprise. Why didn’t he marry her, indeed? Olivia would make the perfect wife. She was accustomed to his ways. She never expressed
objection to his hard drinking. For years, she had overlooked his indiscretions. And as an unrepentant sinner, he liked the arrangement. He liked it very well.

  “Aren’t you afraid that someone else might make Olivia a better offer than you have?” Milton asked. “Not that you have made her much of an offer.”

  “Are you referring to yourself, my friend?” Cecil sent him an amused smile.

  “Would I betray you?” Milton protested. “No, indeed. I have plenty of choices without trespassing on a friend’s. . .opportunities.” To prove his point, he scanned the crowd until he caught the eye of one of the ladies. She returned his stare for only as long as propriety allowed, then batted her eyelashes and turned her head in another direction.

  Milton’s ability to attract the attention of any lady he chose never ceased to amaze Cecil. Then again, despite his years, Milton had maintained a trim physique and still boasted a full head of hair, albeit the color of salt and pepper. Cecil patted his growing paunch, a proud sign that he possessed a fortune that allowed him to indulge in rich food with abandon. He knew that thinning hair added years to his appearance, but he could still charm all but the most obstinate prospects.

  “You are as popular today as you were in your own prime, Milton,” he observed, knowing Milton’s weakness for flattery would cause him to overlook the thorn among his rosy sentiment. “Perhaps I am the one who should be trespassing.”

  Milton took another sip of brandy. “Speaking of lost opportunities, how is Mrs. Sutton?”

  Abigail.

  Cecil swallowed. “Tending to the manor house quite well, thank you very much.” Although Cecil was loathe to admit it, losing Abigail to his brother had come as quite a blow. But in his heart, Cecil knew that Abigail was better off without him. “I hope to return to my country estate for a hunting trip soon. Care to join me?”

  “Perhaps. Maybe in the next month or so. I have too much business left here in London to depart at the moment.” Milton spotted a plump but pretty young woman in the crowd and nodded. “Too much business.”

  “Still the rogue, I see.”

  Milton sent him a sly smile. “And you, the cad.”

  Cecil felt a light tap on his shoulder. “Oh, there you are, Cecil,” Olivia said.

  “Yes, my dear. Delightful of you to finally greet me.”

  “There, there. You know my duties as hostess preclude me from spending as much time with you this evening as I would like.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You need to play the part of host instead of conversing with Milton all night.”

  Cecil was too comfortable talking easily with Milton and watching the ball from his perch. He was in no mood to obey. “In due time,” he promised.

  “I have two guests: my cousin and our aunt,” Olivia continued as though she hadn’t whispered an aside to Cecil. “I would have introduced you sooner, but she arrived just as the ball commenced.” She stepped aside to reveal Eunice and her ever-present chaperone.

  Studying her through the formal introductions, Cecil observed that Eunice looked even more ravishing up close than she did from a distance, a refreshing discovery. Women he admired from afar often proved, upon rigorous inspection, to possess flawed complexions, crooked teeth, or some further blemish. Not so with Miss Norwood.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Sutton,” Eunice said in proper turn.

  So as not to appear too bold, Cecil suppressed a delighted smile. On some occasions, women who appeared perfect marred their pristine images once they spoke to reveal heavily accented or grating voices. But Eunice’s voice proved to be soft and refined. Everything about her was perfect. Just perfect.

  He brushed his lips against the back of her wrist. “I assure you, Miss Norwood, the pleasure is entirely my own.”

  Milton moved closer to the threesome, forcing Olivia to introduce him as well. “Enchantée, Miss Norwood.” He swept his lips across the back of her hand. To Cecil’s pleasure, he noticed that Eunice seemed unaffected by Milton’s suave gesture.

  “To what auspicious event might we attribute the pleasure of your presence on this evening?” Milton asked Eunice.

  Cecil clenched his teeth together behind closed lips. Whenever Milton’s speech became so flowery toward a woman, he had set his mind to capturing the creature to use for his pleasure. Should history repeat itself, Milton would let her go when he tired of her, leaving the poor thing brokenhearted. An unexpected spasm struck the pit of his abdomen. Funny, he hadn’t felt such emotion in a long time. Could it be—jealousy?

  “I only stopped by to enjoy the ball this evening, Sir Milton,” Eunice said, her voice as pleasant as a tuneful flute.

  “Please. Let us dispense with such formalities. I beg of you to address me as your servant, Milton.”

  “Lord Milton,” Olivia answered in Eunice’s stead, “my cousin is on her way to the country estate she recently inherited. As much as I wish she could delay, I am afraid she will not be in the city long enough to become well acquainted with anyone.”

  Suddenly, Cecil began to piece together the bits of information to form a whole image. “Norwood. If I may be so bold, Miss Norwood, is Lady Olivia referring to the Norwood estate in Oxfordshire?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then I am pleased to inform you that we shall be neighbors.” Cecil paused for an instant. “I was distressed when Sir Richard passed away. He and my father enjoyed many a hunting expedition over the years. Please accept my condolences.”

  “Thank you. My uncle and I were not close.”

  “He was not an easy man to know, Miss Norwood,” Cecil conceded. “All of us in the parish will be pleased to learn we are gaining such a lovely new neighbor.”

  “The earl only visits the estate for the occasional hunting trip,” Milton was quick to add. “He resides here in London the majority of the year.”

  “Yes,” Olivia agreed. She shot Cecil a warning look.

  “True enough, but my country estate never remains vacant and is always prepared for a sudden house party. My brother, Tedric, and his wife, Abigail, reside there throughout the year.”

  “Yes. I am aware of your generous arrangement with your brother’s family. For you see, Abigail is one of my closest friends from school.”

  “You and Mrs. Sutton are friends?” Cecil asked.

  “Yes, although distance has kept us from seeing each other often. Happily, that will soon change.” She smiled. “And am I right in thinking that you must be Cecilia’s namesake?”

  “I do boast of the honor.”

  Eunice smiled. “She was such a beautiful infant when I last saw Abigail.”

  “And she is a lovely little girl, though rambunctious now that she walks quite well,” he said. “Well, this is a glad coincidence. I am sure we shall be seeing one another often.” Cecil caught a storm brewing in Olivia’s eyes. “Although, as Milton and Miss Hamilton pointed out, I am seldom at the estate.”

  “Oh, I see Lord George has just arrived,” Olivia told her cousin through tight lips. She swept her gaze toward the men. “If you will excuse us.”

  They nodded their assent before Olivia and her guests melted into the crowd.

  ❧

  Olivia and Aunt May chatted merrily with Lord George, a development that pleased Eunice since nothing about him piqued her interest. Instead, she could smile on cue and try to make sense of the social scene she was encountering in London. For the first time, Eunice wished she had been a bit closer to her distant cousin Olivia. Perhaps if she had been, her present situation wouldn’t seem so bewildering.

  She watched her cousin chatting with one lord and sending a bold look toward another. Her actions reminded Eunice why her aunt had shielded her from London society until the present.

  Eunice remembered Olivia’s halfhearted romantic interest, Cecil. So Cecil was Abigail’s brother-in-law, the cad she had often mentioned in her letters. Funny, Cecil didn’t appear nearly as physically repulsive as Abigail’s descriptions maintained. Certainly he was no longe
r quite young, but his imposing height gave him a presence and air of confidence that few other men she knew possessed. His blue eyes sparkled when he spoke to her. And his charm! No wonder her cousin Olivia found him attractive.

  Eunice wondered about her future husband. What man would her heavenly Father send? A vicar, perhaps, or a landed gentleman willing to lead a quiet life of solitude, revolving around the children Eunice hoped to bear one day. A gentlewoman with but few means, Eunice suspected her inheritance of a country estate, funded by a modest fortune to maintain herself and the home’s dignity, would send more potential suitors her way.

  Like Milton, perhaps? She shuddered. Milton was full of flowery language, but the words pouring from his smooth tongue left her feeling slimy.

  On the other hand, she doubted any serious suitor would be like Cecil. He was wealthy in material possessions, but if Olivia’s reports were true, he had little patience for spiritual matters. Then again, Olivia did little to encourage Cecil toward a relationship with the Lord. No, her lively and popular cousin preferred to enjoy the company of a prominent titled gentleman outside the confines of marriage.

  “I like to come and go as I please and not have to answer to anyone,” Olivia had explained once. Not that Eunice was entirely without sympathy or understanding. Olivia had been responsible for the care of her mother and sister when they were ailing. Released from her daily duties only by their deaths after many long years, the lure of freedom for Olivia was great. Now that she had the liberty and the means to host lively balls, complete with a five-piece orchestra and the best food from Gunther’s, she was in her element. Still, Eunice wished her cousin could find solace in God rather than in fashionable social gatherings and silly flirtations.

  Eunice watched Cecil rise from his perch and lift his glass to a woman she hadn’t met. If Olivia was bothered by the gesture, she hid her feelings well behind a smiling mask. Cecil had spent most of the evening stepping through the obligatory dances, eating, or standing by the fire and visiting with those who stopped by—and it seemed as if everyone at the party made time to see Cecil, even though he was not an official host. From the corner of her eye, Eunice had been noticing that Cecil’s mood seemed elevated whenever a pretty woman batted her eyes at him. How could Olivia excuse such behavior?