Page 9 of The Earl’s Scarred Bride (Taming the Gillets #2)

CHAPTER NINE

T he drawing room at Stonefield Manor echoed with feminine laughter as Elizabeth watched her new sisters-in-law settle onto the settees with the easy familiarity of women who had grown up in these very rooms. The Duchess of Greyhall and Viscountess of Kensington had arrived unannounced that morning, their husbands in tow, declaring they would not be denied the chance to meet their new sister any longer.

"I cannot believe you married without us present," Madeleine, the younger of Cecil's sisters, declared for perhaps the third time since their arrival. Her pregnancy was just beginning to show beneath her fashionable morning dress. "After all the times you lectured me about propriety during my own courtship!"

"There was no courtship to speak of," Cecil replied dryly from his position by the fireplace. "And as I recall, you and Charles hardly followed convention yourselves."

Emily, the elder sister, shot her brother a wicked smile that reminded Elizabeth startlingly of Cecil's own. "Speaking of unconventional behavior, shall we tell Elizabeth about the time you climbed onto the roof to rescue that mangy cat, only to need rescuing yourself?"

Cecil's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, but I would, dear brother." Emily turned to Elizabeth, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He was twelve, you see, and absolutely determined to prove he could do anything. The poor creature had been stuck up there for days, and Cecil decided he would be its savior."

"Emily," Cecil's warning tone only seemed to encourage his sister.

"He made it onto the roof easily enough," Madeleine chimed in, clearly delighting in her brother's growing discomfort. "But then his breeches caught on a loose tile. When he tried to free himself, he lost his balance and?—"

"Ended up hanging by his coat from the drainage pipe," Emily finished with a laugh. "Father was absolutely furious, but Mother couldn't stop laughing long enough to scold him properly."

Elizabeth found herself smiling despite her initial nervousness about meeting Cecil's family. The image of a young, impetuous Cecil dangling from the rooftop was impossible to resist. "Did you at least save the cat?"

"The wretched beast made its own way down while I was hanging there," Cecil admitted, though Elizabeth noticed his lips twitching. "Had the audacity to look quite pleased with itself as it sauntered past the gathering crowd."

"That wasn't even his most outrageous escapade," Madeleine added, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Wait until you hear about the time he decided to teach himself to fence using Mother's best parasols..."

"Absolutely not," Cecil interrupted, moving to sit beside Elizabeth on the settee. "I believe we've had quite enough stories about my misspent youth."

"Spoilsport," Emily declared, but her attention shifted to Elizabeth with keen interest. "Tell me, sister, has he shown you the library yet? Cecil used to spend hours in there as a boy, reading the most scandalous Gothic novels he could find."

"The library?" Elizabeth's brow furrowed. She'd explored most of the house by now, but she hadn't come across a proper library.

"It's being renovated," Cecil said smoothly, though his hand came to rest possessively on the small of Elizabeth's back. "Perhaps we should find some other entertainment for the afternoon. A game, perhaps?"

Percival, who had been quietly observing the exchange with obvious amusement, brightened at the suggestion. "An excellent idea. Your wife hasn't yet experienced your legendary competitive streak, has she?"

"Oh yes," Madeleine clapped her hands together. "Let's play cards. Vingt-et-un, perhaps? Elizabeth, you must join us. Cecil is absolutely terrible at hiding his tells."

"I most certainly am not," Cecil protested, but Elizabeth could feel the tension in his body where it pressed against hers.

"I'd be delighted to play," Elizabeth said, surprising herself with her eagerness. There was something wonderfully normal about sitting around a card table with family, even if that family wasn't her own. "Though I should warn you, I've spent countless hours playing cards with the ton's most formidable dowagers."

Charles, who had been quiet until now, laughed. "I believe that's a challenge, Stonefield. Your new countess seems to have some spirit."

"More than you know," Cecil murmured, his breath warm against Elizabeth's ear as he helped her rise. The intimate gesture sent a shiver down her spine, and from the slight curve of his lips, she knew he'd noticed.

As the servants brought the card table and Charles began to deal, Elizabeth found herself caught up in the easy banter between siblings. No one stared at her scar or whispered behind their fans. Even when she laughed—a real, unrestrained laugh at one of Percival's dry observations—no one seemed scandalized by her lack of proper restraint.

The first few hands passed quickly, with fortunes rising and falling around the table. Elizabeth discovered that Madeleine had a habit of humming when she held good cards, while Emily's left eyebrow would twitch ever so slightly when she bluffed. And Cecil...

"You're staring, wife," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

"Merely studying your tells, husband," she replied primly, though her pulse quickened at his proximity.

His hand found her knee under the table, hidden from his family's view by the tablecloth. "And what have you discovered?"

The warmth of his palm through her skirts made it difficult to concentrate on her cards. "That you're trying to distract me because I'm winning."

"Your new sister is quite formidable at cards," Charles observed as Elizabeth won another hand. "Where did you learn to play so well?"

Elizabeth gathered her winnings, keenly aware of Cecil's hand still resting on her knee. "One learns many things while chaperoning a debutante through multiple seasons. The dowagers are particularly fond of teaching useful skills."

"Useful skills indeed," Cecil's thumb traced small circles against her skin through the fabric. "Though I wonder what else those dowagers taught you."

Elizabeth's cards trembled slightly in her hands. "Only the most proper accomplishments, I assure you."

"Is that so?" His fingers skimmed higher, just above her knee. "And here I thought they might have shared some...interesting gossip about married life."

"Cecil," she hissed under her breath, though she didn't dare move away for fear of drawing attention to his wandering hand.

"Your bet, Elizabeth," Madeleine called out cheerfully, oblivious to her brother's mischief.

Elizabeth placed her wager, trying to focus on her cards rather than the heat of Cecil's touch. She had an excellent hand—one that would likely win her the game. But as she prepared to reveal her cards, Cecil's lips brushed against her ear.

"Have you been practicing what I suggested, wife?" His whispered words made her shiver. "Late at night, when you're alone in your bed, do you think of me?"

Her cards scattered across the table as her hands jerked in surprise. "I...I apologize," she stammered, gathering them quickly. "They slipped."

"Are you well, Elizabeth?" Emily asked, concern evident in her voice. "You look rather flushed."

"Perfectly well," Elizabeth managed, though she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "Though perhaps a bit warm."

"It is rather stuffy in here," Cecil agreed innocently, though his fingers now traced the sensitive spot behind her knee that he'd discovered made her gasp. "Shall I open a window?"

"No!" Elizabeth said too quickly, knowing she'd never maintain her composure if he moved away. "That is, I'm sure I'll be fine. Whose turn is it?"

The game continued, but Elizabeth's concentration was thoroughly shattered. Every time she thought she'd regained her focus, Cecil would find some new way to torment her—a brush of his fingers along her thigh, a warm breath against her neck, a whispered suggestion that made her cheeks flame.

"I believe that's game," Percival announced after what felt like an eternity. "Though I must say, Elizabeth, your play became rather erratic toward the end."

"Yes," Cecil drawled, finally withdrawing his hand. "How unusual for someone who started so...confidently."

Elizabeth shot him a glare that promised retribution, but before she could respond, Madeleine rose from her seat.

"Oh, speaking of confident beginnings, that reminds me—Elizabeth, has Cecil shown you Mother's paintings yet? The ones in that lovely sitting room?"

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. "His mother's paintings?"

"Oh yes," Emily joined in, her expression softening with nostalgia. "Mother was quite talented. She painted almost every day in that room—it was her sanctuary. The one of Cecil with the wooden sword was always Father's favorite."

Elizabeth's mind raced, remembering her assumptions about the paintings' origins. She'd been so certain they belonged to some former lover, had even let that belief fuel her jealousy. But now...

"It's why we weren't surprised Cecil kept them all," Madeleine continued, seemingly unaware of the tension that had suddenly gripped her brother's frame. "Though I must say, turning it into a sitting room was inspired. Mother would have loved that—she always said that room needed more light."

Elizabeth glanced at Cecil, noting how his earlier playfulness had vanished entirely. His jaw was set in that familiar way that suggested he was fighting to maintain his composure.

"She was a wonderful mother," Emily added softly. "Always encouraging our creative pursuits, no matter how outlandish. Remember how she used to let you practice your fencing in the gallery, Cecil? Father was furious about the scratches on the floors, but she just laughed and said it gave the house character."

"Perhaps we should move to the dining room," Cecil cut in, his voice carrying an edge that made his sisters exchange puzzled looks. "It must be nearly time for supper."

As they rose to move to the dining room, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Cecil's expression. For just a moment, she saw something raw and painful in his eyes—not the possessive heat from earlier, nor the practiced charm he usually displayed, but something altogether more vulnerable.

Then it was gone, hidden behind his usual mask of cool control. But Elizabeth couldn't forget it.