Page 20 of Wicked By Design

“You are speaking in riddles,” Hawkney complained, shaking his head.

“Indeed, I am not, I only—”

“Children!” Gee-Gee’s amused voice cut through the debate. “Never mind, Miss Halfpenny. We understand your point even if Alex is being thick-headed. None of us thought it, however. Is she going to show this portrait?”

Miss Halfpenny nodded. “Actually, I believe she wishes to show it to the Venturesome Ladies first. She also told me that she very much valued your opinion.”

“Did she indeed?” Gee-Gee mused. “Well, then she shall have it. Now then, you two. How many cuts direct did you get today?”

Cilly glanced at Miss Halfpenny, whose eyes had grown rather wide, and took pity on her. She’d hear soon enough. “It appears you do not listen to gossip, Miss Halfpenny, which Damian and I are the subject of. Our engagement is the result of a scandal at last night’s ball, but for my part, I am very pleased with the results.”

She sent Damian a winning smile, gazing adoringly at him, just as she had promised to do.

He returned her gaze, though he looked merely curious rather than delighted or besotted. Ah, well.

“Oh, well. All’s well that ends well, then,” Miss Halfpenny suggested, and took a sip of her brandy.

“Quite so,” Cilly agreed, before returning her attention to Gee-Gee and her grandmother, Helena, who appeared rather troubled. “Three cuts, though one was from Miss Templeton, whom I have always disliked intensely so she hardly counts, and the Countess of Dunmere was so very sympathetic.”

Cilly rolled her eyes and pressed her hands to her bosom.

Her grandmother looked incensed. She sat up straighter, her eyes flashing sparks. “That spiteful—”

“Do not concern yourself, your grace. Lady Cecilia rose to the occasion magnificently. I do not believe the countess will cross swords with her again without due deliberation,” Damian replied, a mocking note to the words that did nothing to diminish the effect they had on Cilly.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

He nodded.

Her grandmother grimaced all the same. “Well. I am glad to hear it, but I am afraid she will not be the last. We must arrange the wedding at once,”

“No.”

Everyone gawked at Damian, who gave a careless shrug. “It is of no matter to me. If it pleases Celia, we shall marry as soon as possible, but I would think it better to wait a while, two or three weeks at least, to allow people to see our courtship before their eyes and grow used to the idea. But it shall be as you prefer.”

Helena considered this as she studied Damian. She did not like him, nor trust him, Cilly knew, but it sounded a sensible plan, and she could not pretend otherwise.

“Very well,” Helena agreed. “I will allow two weeks, three at the outside. Not a day longer, though. I’ll not have you slipping the net.”

Damian stiffened.

“Grandmother!” Cilly exclaimed, horrified. “How can you say such a thing? Damian is the injured party here, might you remember. He has been nothing but honourable and kind to me, which in the circumstances is more than I deserve.”

“Miss Bradford,” Helena said icily.

A flush of colour crested Damian’s high cheekbones and Cilly felt her temper flare. “How do you know that girl didn’t do just as I did? It all seemed very fishy to me, for she had no dowry to speak of. If he was going to ruin a girl, why not choose an heiress? In my opinion she was a silly chit who decided she wanted something that was not hers to take. Damian did right not to agree to marry her. They’d both have been utterly miserable.”

Her grandmother huffed and made a show of smoothing out her skirts. “A fair point, I suppose. But he is hardly the model of a gentleman, is he?”

“Well, as it turns out, I am not the model of a lady, am I?” Cilly retorted furiously and stalked out of the room.

She made it across the grand entrance hall and to the doorway of the music room before a deep voice stopped her.

“Celia.”

Still fuming, she swung around, ready to bite the head off anyone foolish enough to tangle with her and found Damian. He stood several feet away, gazing at her with that odd expression again, as if she was a question to which he had no answer. Well, that was fair. She didn’t either.

What had got into her? Yes, she had decided not to pretend to be the docile, sweet ninny she had played for so long, but was she truly this… this angry, sharp-tongued creature? Was she better? She certainly didn’t seem nicer.