“Oh, Lilian,” Cecily sighed, wondering quite where to begin on that tangled and unfortunate knot of child logic. “You shouldn’t hit your father, you know, or anyone else.”
“It doesn’t hurt him,” Lilian objected. “He’s too big and strong. No matter what I do, nothing hurts him.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Cecily demurred. “Your father is a human being with feelings like everyone else.”
Or at least she sometimes thought he was. At others, it would be all too easy to believe what Lilian had just said.
“Do you know why your father would never hurt you, Lilian?” Cecily continued, and the little girl shook her head. “It’s because he loves you so much and because he’s a good man.”
“Do you think so?” Lilian asked curiously, her big blue eyes widening.
“I know it,” Cecily sighed.
Yes, she knew that much about Nathaniel, if nothing else. She was beginning to see that he had done his best for his daughter, but his best had unfortunately been all in the wrong direction, having no experience of being parented himself. He lacked neither heart nor principle, although he seemed loath to admit to either.
“Goodnight, Lilian. Goodnight, Buster.”
After kissing Lilian’s forehead and patting the little dog where he lay in his basket by the door, Cecily left the room and slowly made her way down the corridor toward the stairs, her mind preoccupied with the confusion and contradictions of Nathaniel.
Why was he so determined not to care? What was he hiding from?
That remained a mystery.
But she was not really in a position to accuse him of hiding from anything. She herself had been hiding from him all day since their encounter in the study, not because it had been bad but because it had been so good and so far beyond her experience.
Cecily felt hot and shy even thinking about those strange minutes in the study. When he had first announced that he was going to spank her, she had wondered whether she ought to be afraid, but her body’s trust in him had been greater than her fear.
What he had done had been no punishment, but another of those bedroom games of whose existence she had been unaware until she met him.
How easily he seemed able to bend her to his will at certain times and yet how carefully he exercised this power. Despite his apparent control of the situation, every moment of that encounter in the study had somehow been for her pleasure more than his.
Thinking of his pleasure, Cecily wondered again why he had not yet deflowered her despite having every opportunity. It was certainly not for a lack of desire on either side. She was well aware of the intensity of his ardor, having felt it pressing against her several times.
Nor could he be deceived about the depth of her longing. She could feel it in the racing of her heart, the quickening of her breath, and the surging of her blood. It was also in the tingling of her skin and the slickness between her thighs. Nathaniel seemed fully aware of all of that.
There was still half an hour before dinner, yet she would have no choice but to sit across from him at the dinner table.
Part of her was relieved that Mary and Patrick would be there too, for their presence would ease the tension despite their bickering. But another part would not be sorry if they both stayed in their rooms and Nathaniel sent away the servants and ordered her to bend over the table…
* * *
Mary was in the hallway when Cecily came downstairs, a rather worried expression on her face and a letter in her hand.
“There you are, Cecily. I was going to come and find you before dinner.”
“I was just putting Lilian to bed. What is the matter?”
Mary held out the letter to her, and Cecily took it and carried it into the large front drawing room, where the light was still good at this hour.
“It’s from Grandmother,” Mary told her. “She wants to meet us and talks of wanting to mend bridges with her only granddaughters. What should we do? She is a very old woman, and I do feel sorry for her after reading that letter, but?—”
“You are not going back to that house as long as Grandmother and Uncle Preston live there,” Cecily said flatly. “It isn’t safe. Maybe we could meet her somewhere else, or maybe I could go alone to see her, although I’m not sure I care to. We ought to consult Nathaniel.”
“I already have,” Mary admitted. “When I couldn’t find you, I took it to Nathaniel, and he told me the same thing, although he said it was your decision.”
At that, Cecily sighed and folded the letter back up. That was another classic Nathaniel move, she was realizing.
Was he declining to bother himself with dull and unpleasant relatives, or was he showing respect for her by letting her make important decisions for their family?
