Page 22 of Her Lion of a Duke (Dukes & Beasts #3)
Cecilia had never been in a situation that made her as uncomfortable as she had been with Leonard at that moment.
She knew that she had done wrong and that she should have confessed right then and there that she was the guilty party, but she would have had little control over what followed, and she could not allow that. Not in her parents’ home.
It was the only secret she had kept from everyone: the double life she led as a brutally truthful man who said exactly what was on his mind.
That was why she had found it so entertaining when members of the ton said that she did not keep her thoughts to herself.
If only they knew what she thought of them.
The pamphlets had earned her a small fortune, too.
She had kept the money in a hidden compartment in the floor of her room when she lived with her parents, and had brought it to London that year so they would not stumble upon it in her absence.
It was hidden in a few of her hats, stashed away so that she wouldn't have to explain where it had come from.
She could not explain it, not to Leonard.
“Are you all right, dear?” her mother asked before dinner. “You look pale.”
“It is my complexion, Mother. I have always looked like this.”
“Yes, but you are gaunt. A mother always knows these things. What is troubling you?”
Cecilia could not answer truthfully, but she hated lying. “I suppose it is because this is the first time I have stayed in a home that is not my own since the wedding.”
“This is still your home. It will always be, and should you ever need time away, we will welcome you with open arms.”
“I know,” she replied with a dutiful smile. “All the same, I am anxious to return. I hope that nothing bad has happened in our absence.”
“If it were awful, you would have known about it by now. Believe me, you need not concern yourself with all of that. My, how you have changed. Not so long ago, you would not have cared.”
“That is what everyone misunderstands about me,” she protested. “It is not that I do not care. I care too much, if anything. I am always the first to consider possible problems and think of several ways to solve each one, but because I dare to open my mouth and say them, I am considered brash.”
“You may be brash, yes, but I know you. You are my daughter.”
“Do you know me?” Cecilia snapped, her blue eyes blazing. “Do you know me at all, Mother?”
“Of course. I know that your favorite instrument is the violin, and that you cannot stand conflict, even if you find yourself in the middle of it far more than most. I know that you like to write, even if you refuse to share it with me.”
Lady Punton’s face softened, and she tucked a stray curl behind Cecilia’s ear with a sad smile.
“And I also know,” she added gently, “that you do whatever you please. I have always envied you for that. Most do.”
“Most hate it.”
“They hate you for it, which is not quite the same. You have always been your own person, regardless of what anyone thinks of you. It has frightened us many times and disturbed others, but that does not mean you are impossible to understand. I know that I have not been the best mother, but that is only because I have never known anyone like you. I did not know where to start, not when you have always been so certain of who you are. There was no changing you.”
Cecilia laughed shakily. She had been a menace since she learned to walk, stampeding through the house with such furor that nobody could stop her.
She read every book in their library, ran faster than anyone her age, and argued better.
It was not that she felt inferior and was therefore compelled to work harder than anyone else.
It was simply who she was—an overachiever with too smart a mouth.
Perhaps her mother was right. Maybe it had been envy that she had seen in others, not spite.
“The ladies of the ton must hate me now, if they did not before,” she mumbled. “They will all see me as the lady who did not care, no matter what. And now that I am a duchess, they will be doing all they can while watching me have everything they want, and not one of them will think I deserve it.”
“And what about you?” her mother asked, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. “Do you think that you deserve it?”
Cecilia wanted to say yes. She wanted to say that she had been the only person to see Leonard for who he truly was, the only one to befriend him when he was not a duke. She saw him when others looked through him, and so if he were to take a wife, objectively, she would be his first choice.
And yet she knew the truth.
She had been lying to him for years. She had written essays discussing his standing in Society, and though she had never named him, there were pieces of him every time she wrote. It was her fault, and yet she had never been able to stop herself from thinking about him.
She thought of one especially egregious piece that she had once written, one of her most popular, which spoke of murder being used to inherit titles that were not meant to be inherited.
She felt ice slither under her skin, knowing that Leonard had read it, and he was now adamant on finding the culprit.
How long did she have?
“I do not know,” she whispered.
“Oh, dearest.” Her mother embraced her. “Of course you do. You deserve everything you have and more. If those in Society want what you have, then they have every right to take it for themselves. They were content with what they took, and you never were. You always wanted more, and now you have it. We may not have always seen eye to eye, but you need to know just how proud I am of you.”
Cecilia smiled, blinking back tears, and thanked her mother profusely. Every word was true; she had wanted more, committed the sin of gluttony over and over, and she had everything. Now, she deserved everything she would get as a consequence.
She could not eat her meal. They had prepared her favorite—roasted beef with all the trimmings—but all she could do was stare at it.
Gluttony. Why was I never satisfied unless I had it all?
“Eat, dear,” her father urged after a while. “I know that you do not travel well, but it will be worse if you journey on an empty stomach.”
“I did not know that you dislike traveling,” Leonard noted.
It was an easy excuse, at least.
“I have gotten better since I was a child,” Cecilia explained. “My mother will enjoy telling you of all the times I screamed at every bend in the road when I was a girl.”
“I still have trouble hearing with my right ear,” her mother joked. “You insisted on sitting between us, after all.”
“I do not scream now, at least,” Cecilia pointed out. “Though I cannot say I particularly enjoy all of it.”
“I thought that you wanted to travel the world?” Leonard arched an eyebrow. “We have planned our first tour, no?”
“That is different,” Cecilia explained, laughing. “Once I am there, I am very happy. I enjoy visiting different destinations, but the journey itself is not always exciting. It is a burden I will bear, however.”
“You are so courageous.” Leonard smiled.
She found the ability to eat her meal at last, but there was no denying the awful feeling in her stomach. They would soon be leaving, and that meant she would have to think of a way to explain herself.
She could not let the truth go unsaid for too long, even if she did not know the first thing about confessing something so heinous.
“You will visit again soon, yes?” her father asked Leonard the following morning as they prepared to leave.
“Indeed. You are both more than welcome to visit us, of course. You need not write or ask for permission. Our home is yours.”
Cecilia liked the warm, steady presence that her husband offered. It was obvious that her parents did, too, for her mother accepted his offer with a twinkle in her eyes.
Leonard took Brutus to the carriage first, to settle him, briefly leaving Cecilia with her parents.
“You have found a wonderful man,” her mother whispered as they embraced one final time. “Make sure that you treat him well.”
“And you have an excellent dog,” her father added. “We may, indeed, have to find one of our own.”
“I can ask my husband where he found Brutus, if you like,” Cecilia offered.
Her father shook his head. “His breed may be too difficult for us. We have never had a dog before, after all. If His Grace does know of any breeders, however, I will trust his judgment.”
“We will see you soon, dear,” her mother said gently. “We are only a letter away.”
Cecilia wondered during their journey home if that letter would need to be sent sooner than they expected.
Brutus slept at her feet throughout the ride, and she could see Leonard glancing at him every so often.
“What have you done to him?” he asked. “I could never control him like this.”
“I am not doing anything, nor have I ever. He has always liked to rest.”
“Yes, but he used to bound through the halls and crash into the staff. He does not do that anymore. He simply sits at your feet.”
“Perhaps he likes me?” she suggested. “I am not sensing any envy, am I?”
“Not at all. I am pleased that he likes you, but that does not mean I understand this bond of yours.”
Cecilia laughed, turning to look out the window.
“It was not as bad as you expected, then?” Leonard asked.
“It was as good as it could have been. They admitted their fault, and it is not as though I can punish them forever. They never used to work through problems before, so I cannot ask for more than this.”
“What would they do instead? My brother and I had so many disputes that I cannot fathom doing it any other way.”
She thought back to her childhood, the short whispered discussions between her mother and father whenever she had done something wrong.
“They would say how they felt and leave it there. Sometimes, they would not say anything at all. It was easier to pretend that nothing was wrong. When I was a little girl, I wondered if that was the best way to handle matters. If everyone agreed that there was no issue, then there was not one. I know better now, of course.”
“As do they, it seems. That is something good.”
“Indeed, which is why I am pleased you have extended an invitation to them. They would love to see Pridefield Manor again, especially now that everything has changed.”
“Ah, yes, you finished the renovations. Are you pleased with them?”
“I love them. It finally feels like my home, and that… that means more to me than I could ever express. I have never felt like I have belonged anywhere. I have simply drifted from one place to the other, stopping for a moment before moving on. I feel like I have truly planted my roots now.”
“Good.” Leonard nodded, and she leaned against his shoulder. “I am pleased about that, for I would not want you to seek a home anywhere else.”
His words were comforting, and hers were honest, but she could not stop her heart from lurching.
She was a liar, and she had inadvertently tried to ruin her husband’s reputation in an attempt to feel powerful.
He had never deserved it, and whether she had meant it or not, the damage was the same. Her regret did not negate her actions.
“There will be a fair at the village tomorrow,” he reminded her suddenly.
“We ought to attend.”
“If you need rest after everything that has happened of late, we can skip it.”
“No,” she replied. “I insist. I will be fine by tomorrow. I feel unwell from all the traveling. That is all.”
“Is it?” he pressed. “I know that you are pleased with how well the visit went, but it must have been difficult all the same. Do not push yourself too hard, Cecilia. We all need time.”
“I know, but it is only a fair. It is an opportunity to enjoy myself, if anything. I would rather be in the village than hiding away in my room, waiting for my tiredness to cease, because I will not be sleeping no matter where we are.”
Leonard simply nodded in resignation, not pressing the matter further.
If Cecilia were being honest, a few days of rest and doing nothing at all sounded wonderful. It had been over a week of trying to please her guest and then trying to mend her relationship with her parents. She wished that she could have a few more days with her husband.
But she needed the distraction. If she stayed alone with Leonard, she risked telling him everything before she could consider her words. She needed time to decide how to explain the unexplainable, and to find the right time to tell him.
She would do it of her own accord, but the how remained a mystery.
The manor was exactly as they had left it. Brutus bounded in triumphantly before unceremoniously flopping down in front of the fireplace in the drawing room and going back to sleep.
Cecilia envied him greatly, for she was not as fortunate. It was midday, and therefore she had to tend to matters all afternoon. She also had to eat lunch, which tasted like dust.
She needed to go to the village fair. She needed the distraction.