Maid of Honor by Stephanie Lilley

Author:Stephanie Lilley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Lily of the Valley Books
Published: 2011-05-08T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Lord Cerestone yawned over his Morning Post in the library. When Alianora began to sing, he looked up then leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the strain of the past few days recede a little as he listened. He couldn't hear the words of the ballad, but that clear, soft voice soothed him.

His mind roamed freely over the past weeks in town, lamenting the terrible upset to his routine, not that one would find him admitting he was such a creature of habit: the neglected books, neglected manuscript, the lack of time for contemplation. He cringed at the thought of the interminable evenings spent squiring Georgina and the Finsbury sisters to various balls, breakfasts, to Vauxhall, to the Haymarket; the time spent escorting his stepmama on her infrequent outings. And his friends! He'd seen them only occasionally, one crisis after another causing him to send his excuses.

Not that he begrudged the time spent with Fanny or even with Georgina nor did he regret having met Lady Alianora, though it was she who had overset the comfortable tone of his life most of all.

He'd never been given to dreaming, rather his life had been devoted to reason and facts. Now he suddenly found himself reading the same page twenty times while his mind was far away. And of what did he dream? Of a maid with golden hair, laughing in the sunlight as her hawk returned to her hand, singing old ballads in the candlelight, dancing in ancient costume with such grace . . .

"Peter!"

He came awake abruptly. Cressida Finsbury stood before him, her brown ringlets topped by a fetching little feathery bonnet. The blue eyes beneath the brim were annoyed. Beside her stood Georgina dressed in a simple russet walking dress with double frills at her wrists and throat. He had to admit that his sister did have style and seemed positively conservative next to Cressida's flashy volatility. He frowned, presenting a severe expression to the girls, but neither quaked. The viscount looked at Georgina wondering if, perhaps, he'd been a touch unreasonable with her in the past.

"Good morning, Cressida, Georgina," he growled, reluctant to let go his reverie. He noticed that the singing had stopped. Hector, who had been lying at his feet under the table happily accepting bits of muffin, raised his head and woofed once.

Cressida cringed but held her ground. She knew she was in Lord Cerestone's black books, at least ever since her display of temper in the park, which had been ill-thought out but, of course, she allowed, there had been unusual circumstances so she wasn't entirely at fault and he should understand that. And he had been so tied down with the sick Fanny that there'd been no occasion for them to further their relationship. She took that opportunity now—it was knocking—and tried the sympathetic approach.

"Peter," she said with a sad smile. "You do look tired."

"I am."

"I've truly missed our lessons; however, I am happy to wait until Fanny is recovered."

"Generous of you," he observed shortly.

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