The answer was hardly necessary when the house's silence seemed to press in around them from all angles. Father was most likely sleeping off a late night of drinking. Henry had returned to university. Sophia might be only fourteen but found herself with countless invitations to various activities and functions with friends.
“They don’t.” Cecelia took a sip of her tea and set the cup back in its saucer, ensuring the refined rose design faced outward perfectly. “I should like…” She had never sought anything for herself before. “I should like a family of my own.” Her pulse surged at the admission.
In the years since Mother’s death, Cecilia had not considered what she wanted. Not when the needs of others were so prevalent. Indeed, she wouldn’t even be asking now if her father would allow her assistance.
“Is there someone, in particular, you have in mind?” Aunt Nancy reached for one of the cherry tarts.
Cecelia swallowed. “Lord Brightstone is still unwed, is he not?”
“Lord Brightstone…” Lady Bursbury settled the cherry tart on the small plate beside her teacup. “Why not choose someone more exciting?”
“Exciting?” Cecelia laughed. “I believe my life has had all the excitement it needs. I would much prefer someone reliable and stable.”
Someone she could lean on instead of always having to be the one offering support.
“Reliable and stable?” Nancy gave a little sigh. “That sounds terribly dull, my darling Cecelia. You are such a beautiful young woman, one who is so wonderfully accomplished. Surely, a little adventure—”
But Cecelia was already shaking her head. “Please, Aunt Nancy. I do not care for a roiling ocean when I could have tranquil seas.”
Lady Bursbury lifted the small tart and considered it, though Cecelia knew it was truly her request she considered. “Very well, safe it is. And at least Lord Brightstone is quite fine to gaze upon.” She took a careful bite of the tart.
“Indeed he is.” Though Cecelia had agreed with her aunt’s assessment, she truly did not remember his exact appearance. They attended similar functions, of course, but it had been over two years since they had spoken to one another.
“You are attending Lady Whitwell’s masquerade ball, correct?” Aunt Nancy asked, interrupting the unwanted thoughts.
Cecelia nodded.
“I think that will be the best time for you two to reconnect.” Aunt Nancy put her finger to her chin and tapped in thought.
“What if he doesn’t want to be with me?” Cecelia put a voice to her fears. After all, she had declined his offer and men did not handle rejection well.
“You needn’t worry about that, dearest.” Aunt Nancy smiled sweetly. “Leave everything to me, including your costume for the masquerade ball.”
Cecelia opened her mouth to protest, but Aunt Nancy put up her hand to stop her. “I insist, or I won’t do this.” She winked. “It’s all part of my plan.”
Aunt Nancy never did anything with a half-hearted effort. No, she jumped in with both feet and her whole heart. This would be no exception.
Giddy anticipation tickled Cecelia’s insides. If Lord Brightstone truly was amenable to courting her again, her dreams of marriage may actually be realized.
Philip Willcott, the eighth Earl of Chambrook, had no heir.
The revelation was not news to him, as he was yet unwed and hadn’t been seeking to procreate, but now he no longer possessed even an heir presumptive.
His stomach knotted as he entered Bursbury Place, driven there by desperation. After all, a man in need of an heir to inherit would first need a wife.
And there was no one he trusted more than Lady Bursbury, who not only had been a dear friend to his mother when she’d been alive but was also a renowned matchmaker. Not that he had ever anticipated needing her services, not when his cousin, Ludlow, had been so very responsible. Philip’s cousin was the one who had been eager to wed and start a family. He was the ideal successor for the Chambrook earldom.
Philip was shown into the drawing-room at Bursbury Place, where lush blue wallpaper lined the wall and matched the velvet settee and chairs surrounding a dark wood tea table.
Lady Bursbury rose from the settee with a smile. “Good day, Lord Chambrook. It was so wonderful to hear from you.”
He inclined his head in greeting. “Good day, Lady Bursbury. Thank you for seeing me.”
“Of course.” She beckoned for him to sit. “I was so sorry to hear of Ludlow’s accident. It was so sudden, and…well, it was simply terrible.”
“Simply terrible” was indeed an accurate way of describing the carriage accident that had abruptly severed the life of Philip’s cousin six months prior.
Lady Bursbury’s kind eyes crinkled with genuine sorrow. “My condolences on your loss.”
