His soft chuckle filled the air. “MayIsay, I’m very pleased you didn’t know?”
Cicely grinned. “Yes, you may. I’m glad you are the first man to kiss me.”
He took her lips again, this time with more urgency. She opened to him, reveling in the heat. His hand moved slowly down her back, causing her breasts to press against his hard, muscular chest. She could stay here, with him, forever.
He groaned, then lifted his head. “We should tell your parents. They’ll be wondering what your answer was.”
“That is why you were so long in arriving in the drawing room!”
“Yes.” A sheepish grin appeared on his face. “I am only surprised your father agreed to entertain my suit so soon.”
“I told him how I felt.” Cicely touched her lips to his. “As for wondering, I think they already know.” She paused for a moment, considering how to approach the problem of his friend. “Andrew, before we go in, I need to discuss something with you.”
A wrinkle appeared on his forehead. “What is it?”
“Eugénie.”
His brows shot up.“Eugénie?”
What could have caused that reaction? “The friend who was at the warehouse with me.”
“Oh, Good Lord. Are you going to tell me she is Mrs. Wivenly’s daughter?”
Cicely nodded. “Yes, but how did you know?”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “I knew this was going to catch him out.”
“What is it?” How had Andrew known who Eugénie was before now?
“I think we should sit.” He took out his handkerchief and cleared the flower petals from the bench, then waited until she sat before taking his place next to her. “Now then. Tell me about the lady.”
“Eugénie Villaret de Joyeuse is, as you know, Mrs. Wivenly’s daughter from her first marriage. She and her step-father were very close. Eugénie called him herbeau-papa, not so much because it’s the word for step-father in French, but because he was so good to her. She never believed the manager, Mr. Howden, when he said the company was losing money, but her mother forbade her from interfering.” Cicely glanced at Andrew but could tell nothing from his expression. It was as if a mask had settled over his face. “So Eugénie and I decided to look at the books. We hadn’t been there long when you and Mr. Munford came in.”
A tick formed in Andrew’s jaw, and a deep frown appeared on his countenance. “Go on.”
Cicely prayed he wasn’t angry with her or Eugénie. “When we got to my bedchamber, she looked so strange that I asked her what had happened. She told me Mr. Munford had kissed her, and I think more besides. She was very affected. You see, she’d never been kissed before and kept touching her lips. I promised I’d help keep her away from him.” Cicely paused. “I know he’s your friend, but I don’t think he’s a very nice man.”
“He has many good qualities, but”—Andrew’s lips formed a thin line—“there are times when he fails to consider the consequences.” He rubbed his temples as if he was getting a headache. “His name is not Munford. It is William, Viscount Wivenly.”
“Wivenly!”This changed everything, and Cicely didn’t know if it was for the better or not. “I don’t understand. Why did he lie about who he was?”
“He wanted to learn what was going on here before he announced his presence. Now that he has, he’s dismissed Howden and will find a new manager who can be trusted. Other problems have cropped up as well.”
“What will Lord Wivenly do about Eugénie?”
Andrew raised her hands to his lips. “Don’t worry.” Andrew’s voice was a low rumble. “You can leave your friend’s problems to me. It is past time Viscount Wivenly was taught a lesson.”
Cicely breathed a sigh of relief. “I knew I could count on you.”
“You may always depend upon me.” Andrew stood, drawing her with him, wrapping his arms around her. “For the present, we have a wedding to plan. I do not wish to wait long before making you Mrs. Grayson.”
Mrs. Grayson. That sounded perfect. Cicely smiled. This was all going so well.
Chapter 8
Hervé, Vicomte de Villaret de Joyeuse, pushed back from the dining table of the house he’d borrowed in the Queen’s Quarter of Charlotte Amalie. He turned his attention to the servant cleaning the table. “When Mr. Shipley arrives, send him to the library.”
“Oui, Monsieur le Vicomte.”
