Page 94 of The Rogue’s Embrace

Even though it was currently Rupert's haunt, on the day of the ball at Campbell House, the entire family decamped to their second home, abandoning Marlowe House for the night.

Campbell House was certainly large enough for the lot of them, as well as a few of Lady Katya's and Cece's father's friends who weren't already staying in London.

As loath as Cece was to get too comfortable under the same roof as Rupert, considering the way just the sight of him sent tremors through her of late, it certainly was easier to dress for a ball in the same house as the party.

"You look outstanding,"

Bianca commented as she, Cece, and Natalia gathered at the top of the grand staircase, ready to make their entrance. "My poor brother isn't going to know what to do with himself with you in a gown like that."

"Are you certain it's not too revealing?"

Cece asked.

Ball gowns that season exposed a shocking amount of shoulder and were cut lower than she was used to wearing.

Red was a daring color to wear in the best of times, but seeing as the May Flower uniform for the week involved white roses, Cece had commissioned the gown at the last minute to set them off.

The true rose pinned above her heart was complimented by a garland of white silk roses dipping low on her chest so that just a hint of her bosom was exposed.

They continued across her skirt, highlighting the copious fabric of her bustle.

How women were supposed to move, let alone dance, in the styles of the day was a mystery to Cece.

Bianca looked just as glorious and even more scandalous in her peacock blue gown.

Her neckline was so daring that Cece was convinced her friend wanted men staring at her chest instead of simply believing she was a delicate beauty.

Although, the purpose of Bianca's wild ensemble was obvious as Mr.

Jack Craig stepped through the doorway and into the hall below where the ladies stood.

"Does Mama know Mr. Craig was invited?"

Natalia asked, peeking through the gap between where Cece and Bianca stood side by side.

"Of course, she does,"

Bianca said, flicking open her peacock feather fan and fanning herself. Mr. Craig glanced up at that moment. His expression filled with warmth and appreciation of an entirely inappropriate nature. "She's the one who invited him."

"Invited him to tell him off, no doubt,"

Natalia said. "The way he's looking at you is decidedly wolfish."

"Yes, it is,"

Bianca said in a sultry voice.

She bit her lip as she stared down at Mr. Craig. Mr. Craig's eyes narrowed with amusement and his smile widened. He winked at her, then walked on with the rest of the guests making their way to the ballroom.

Cece glanced sideways at Bianca. "How long have the two of you been carrying on now?"

she asked with a note of disapproval.

"Jack and I aren't ‘carrying on' at all,"

she said, sounding more disappointed than anything else. "We're friends. That's all."

"Friends who kiss behind the bandstand in Regent's Park,"

Natalia added with a snort.

"No one is kissing anyone tonight,"

Lady Katya said, marching up behind them and startling them all.

Cece gulped, even though she hadn't done anything untoward at all, and stepped aside for her stepmother. Lady Katya wore a stunning gown of emerald green that set off her dramatic coloring. Even though she was the hostess and a matron, her gown was cut as daringly as Bianca's, giving the impression that she was still in her prime. Cece only wished she would look as beautiful and fresh and be as commanding, when she reached Lady Katya's age.

"Come, girls,"

Lady Katya said, walking past and leading them down the stairs. "We're late for our guests' arrivals. We should be in the ballroom already, welcoming them to our home."

"It isn't really our home, though, is it?"

Natalia asked as the four of them paraded down the stairs, turning the heads of the guests in the hall below.

"Of course, it's our home,"

Cece said. "And tonight, it's our palace."

Her comment brought smiles to all of their faces. Cece rather liked the effect. She held her head high and her shoulders square, and didn't even flinch at the way it exposed the creamy expanse of her chest above her neckline. In that moment, as they entered the ballroom and turned every head there, she felt as powerful as a princess surveying her court. She felt as powerful as Henrietta must when she stood at the front of a crowd, speaking about things their mothers' generation could never have dreamed of speaking about. It left her with a surge of energy and the hope that things were advancing for womankind.

That feeling of potency took on a sultry feeling as Rupert and his friends dropped their conversation to stare at them. Mr. Craig had joined their group, and he leaned over to whisper something in Lord O'Shea's ear that made him laugh and nod. Beside Cece, Bianca stood taller, a haughty grin making her look so much like Lady Katya that Cece almost laughed.

Within seconds, Mr. Craig broke away from Lord O'Shea and approached them.

"Lady Bianca, may I have the first dance?"

he asked, extending his hand.

"The orchestra hasn't finished setting up yet,"

Lady Katya informed him with an arch look.

"Then we shall simply have to make our own music,"

Bianca said, slipping her hand into Mr. Craig's and allowing him to lead her off. As they headed toward the French doors leading to the courtyard at the back of the ballroom, he whispered something to Bianca that made her laugh indecorously.

"I fear we're heading for trouble with those two,"

Lady Katya said with a sigh.

"Can't you stop them?"

Natalia asked.

Lady Katya pursed her lips for a moment, studying the couple as they paused to say hello to one of Bianca's friends. "No,"

she said at last. "I don't think I can. The time to nip that unholy alliance in the bud was four years ago, when they first met. Bianca has grown too headstrong now. She'll have to learn the hard way that there is too great a class difference for them to marry."

"I'm not sure whether to express my admiration or my alarm at your willingness to let her learn her lessons on her own,"

Cece confessed.

"Neither am I,"

Lady Katya told her with a pointed look.

Their conversation ended there. Cece's father approached them to let them all know how beautiful they looked, but his eyes were for Lady Katya alone. Natalia spotted some of her friends and flitted off to gossip with them. That left Cece free to cross the ballroom to join Henrietta and some of the other May Flowers, who were, of course, talking politics. In making the move, she deliberately avoided rushing straight to Rupert, who looked as though he expected her to run to him and beg for compliments. The result of that was to draw Rupert instantly across the room, like a moth to her flame.

"Lady Cecelia, you look like a vision tonight,"

he said, eyes glittering with appreciation, particularly for her neckline.

"Thank you, Lord Stanhope,"

she said with cool formality, knowing full well that her true feelings were painted vividly on her face.

"I don't believe I've seen you wear that shade of red before,"

he went on.

"I don't believe you've seen me wear a great many things before, my lord,"

she fired back, snapping her fan open to cool her growing heat.

Rupert's lips twitched and a sensual tension rippled off of him. Clearly, he wanted to make the same sort of inappropriate comment to her that he'd been teasing her with for a week, but with Henrietta and a few of the other May Flowers standing right there—not to mention Lord O'Shea, Lord Herrington, and Lord Howsden catching up to Rupert and greeting the ladies as was more usual for a ball—he couldn't. Cece grinned at his discomfort and counted it as a point in her favor.

"I imagine that the conversation on this side of the room is far more interesting than anything we could have on our own,"

Lord O'Shea said, smiling at Henrietta.

"I suppose it's all Irish Home Rule with you lot,"

Rupert said teasingly.

"Actually, in this instance, you are wrong,"

Cece said happily. She had only just joined the conversation herself, but she delighted in setting him straight. "We were discussing women's suffrage."

"A fine and noble topic,"

Lord Howsden said.

"Do you really think so, my lord?"

Lady Diana Pickwick, one of Henrietta's companions, asked.

"The matter should at least be discussed,"

Lord Howsden answered, careful not to state an actual opinion.

"The May Flowers are very much in favor of women's suffrage, as you would imagine,"

Cece said, glancing to Rupert and daring him to contradict her.

"I can imagine,"

was all he said.

"Suffrage is one issue we can all agree on,"

Henrietta said with a quick, sideways glance.

Cece followed her look to find Lady Claudia and her brother, Lord Denbigh, inching casually toward them as they chatted with various guests standing beside Cece's group. She exchanged a knowing glance with Henrietta. The battle was coming to them. Lady Claudia hadn't passed up a single chance to pick a fight in public since the chaotic May Flowers meeting several days before. But Cece welcomed her approach for an entirely different reason.

"Well then, Lord Stanhope,"

she said in clipped tones. "It looks as though your special guest has arrived."

Rupert twisted to look at the ballroom's wide doorway. His brow furrowed in confusion. "There's no one who—"

He must have caught Cece's meaning a second later when Lady Claudia laughed loudly at something Lord Waltham must have said in the group standing directly next to them. "Oh,"

he said. "Her."

Cece fought not to smile, which probably made her look as though she'd swallowed a fly. It appeared Rupert wasn't up to continuing his silly efforts to make her jealous after all. She made a note not to be as weak, if the opportunity arose.

"Several women's clubs throughout London and in major cities in the north have already been talking about forming women's suffrage societies,"

Henrietta went on, maintaining a calm demeanor, even as she saw what was about to happen. "I have no doubt that before the decade is out, there will be formal organizations to promote a woman's right to vote."

Sure enough, the storm broke exactly as predicted.

"A woman's right to vote?"

Lord Denbigh said with a derisive snort, wedging his and Lady Claudia's way into the private conversation. "That makes about as much sense as allowing Irish dogs to rule themselves."

The wave of tension that crashed over the small assembly made Cece want to both roll her eyes and ball her fists to fight back.

"Let's keep the conversation civil, if you please,"

Lord O'Shea said in a tight voice.

"Civil?"

Lord Denbigh said, his face coloring. He opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of speaking. That may have had something to do with Lady Claudia tugging his arm and scowling at him. He cleared his throat and said, "Everyone knows that a woman's place is in the domestic sphere,"

instead of whatever he had been about to say.

"No one is saying a woman shouldn't be in the home, Lord Denbigh,"

Henrietta replied with a smile that was astoundingly pleasant for someone who was in the middle of being attacked. "But we are skilled in that we can handle both running a household and becoming involved in politics. Even voting."

Lord Denbigh snorted a second time, sounding even more odious than before.

Cece couldn't be silent. "After all,"

she said, trying to be as smooth as Henrietta, "if a man can be employed outside the home and still find time for political involvement, so can a woman."

"Nonsense,"

Lord Denbigh scoffed. "Women are feeble. Their constitutions cannot handle the strain of conflict. It damages their reproductive capacity. Any fool knows that."

"Funny,"

Rupert began in a grinding voice. "I wasn't aware that you knew the first thing about a woman's reproductive capacity."

Lord Denbigh glared at him. Cece had the feeling they would all be caught in the middle of the sort of male debate that was as pointless as it was embarrassing. Why men couldn't simply stick to the issues at hand instead of lowering themselves to personal insults of a delicate nature was beyond her. She glanced subtly around, looking for a way out.

"I'm surprised that you would believe that,"

Henrietta went on, blinking at Lord Denbigh. "Your own sister is a member of a political organization, is she not?"

She nodded to the white rose pinned to Lady Claudia's conservative bodice.

Cece unexpectedly caught Lord Howsden's eye just as Lord Denbigh sputtered, "If she does so it is only with my permission. Your little tea club is nothing and has no importance in the grander scheme of things. If it did, I would never allow Claudia to participate."

Lady Claudia's mouth dropped open and she stared up at her brother. She snapped her mouth closed without saying anything, though.

"Men like you, men who stifle the women in their lives, may just become a thing of the past,"

Rupert insisted. He sent a sideways glance to Cece, as though he'd said the words only as a way of scoring points with her.

Cece was almost beyond noticing, though. Lord Howsden must have seen the desperation in her eyes. "It sounds as though the orchestra is ready,"

he said, stepping around Rupert to face Cece. "Lady Cecelia, would you care to dance?"

"Of course she wouldn't,"

Rupert spoke for her.

Cece ignored him, sliding her hand into Lord Howsden's offered one. "Thank you, Lord Howsden, I would love to."

She grinned like a cat with a canary and held her chin up as Lord Howsden escorted her away from the bubble of tension that had surrounded their group and out to the relatively fresh air of the dance floor.

"You looked as though you needed an escape,"

Lord Howsden said as he took her into his arms for a waltz.

"You are an astute observer of the human condition, Lord Howsden,"

she said, relaxing in his arms as they began the first steps. "It's not as though I do not enjoy a good debate now and then, but one must choose one's sparring partners wisely."

"Oh?"

Lord Howsden asked. "Do tell."

Cece glanced back to the group as they turned in the dance. Henrietta and the other ladies had found dance partners as well, leaving Rupert, Lord O'Shea, and Lord Denbigh looking as though they might tear each other's throats out.

Cece sighed as she returned her attentions to Lord Howsden. "Debate is one thing, but if two people with no intention of changing their minds whatsoever lock horns, it is no longer a debate, it is war. And I have no wish whatsoever to go to war."

"Neither do I,"

Lord Howsden chuckled. "And you're right. Denbigh only uses words as cudgels to beat those he feels superior to."

Cece hummed. "I'm beginning to see that his sister is the same way."

Lord Howsden made a sound of agreement. They twirled from one end of the dance floor to the other in silence before he said, "I do not like conflict. If there were a way to send everyone to their corners to cool off for a while, a way to ease tensions for just a short period, I would jump on it."

"I agree wholeheartedly,"

Cece said. "But there's nothing like the heat of a London summer to keep tempers high."

"I have half a mind to retreat to Albany Court and to leave it all behind, if not for certain draws in the city."

He glanced back to Rupert and the others, although Cece had the distinct impression that the object of his observation was Lord Herrington above the others.

She put the ensuing questions his look of longing raised in her instantly out of her mind and instead said, "Why not retreat to Albany Court? It's only a short train ride to the north, if I remember correctly."

"It is and you do," he said.

"Then why not invite us all for a bit of rest and relaxation?"

As soon as the idea parted her lips, Cece was excited by it. "A house party would be just the thing right now."

Lord Howsden's face lit up as well. "Do you know, that would be perfect."

His smile widened. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Lady Cecelia."

"Please, call me Cece,"

she said, returning his smile. "Even though it is wildly inappropriate."

"And you may call me Reese, as all my friends do."

He then added mischievously, "Tongues will wag when people see how close we have become."

"Let them wag,"

Cece laughed, his comment making her aware that a large number of people were already watching them. "Certain people could do with a bit of gossip to keep them on the straight and narrow."

She sent a glance off to Rupert, who was watching them as intently as his friends were arguing with Denbigh. And as shameless as it made her, she liked it.

* * *

"Only an ignorant Irishman would support a cause as ridiculous as woman's suffrage,"

Denbigh bellowed, his face red, beads of sweat forming around his brow.

"And only a dolt would think that women are incapable when they've raised every one of us,"

Fergus argued in return, just as worked up.

Rupert barely heard either of them, although a huge part of him knew he needed to be involved in the argument. He couldn't drag his eyes away from Cece and Reese, though. They were getting along. A little too well. He'd said something to make her laugh, and she was being far too charming in return. He hadn't seen Reese smile like that since their days in university. Maybe the queer bastard did have his sights set on Cece as the next Marchioness of Albany.

"I refuse to be insulted by an Irishman,"

Denbigh growled, swaying intimidatingly closer to Fergus.

The man was so bullying and vile that it forced Rupert to remind himself that Reese was actually his friend and that there were bigger things to be concerned about than fabricated jealousies.

"Denbigh, I respectfully request that you keep your voice down and your anger in check. This is my mother's ball and her husband's house. Show some respect," he said.

Denbigh turned his anger on Rupert. "Anyone who fancies themselves as a friend of the Irish isn't worthy of my respect."

"Would you like to say that again?"

Freddy asked, looking surprisingly fierce as he too faced Denbigh down.

"I'll say it as many times as I like because it's true,"

Denbigh said, looking as though he was willing to take on all of them.

"All the same,"

Rupert said, holding up his hands, "this is not the time or the place. If you want to resort to brawling in the street to make yourself feel big, kindly do it in the actual street."

Denbigh looked thoroughly disgusted for a half second before an eerie light of inspiration shone in his eyes. He stood straighter. "You want to solve this like men?" he asked.

"I hardly think resorting to fisticuffs is solving anything like men,"

Freddy said.

"Who said anything about fisticuffs?"

Denbigh asked, jerking back with mock offense. "I am suggesting we resolve this like gentlemen."

He paused, narrowing his eyes at Fergus. "At least, those of us who are capable of being gentlemen."

"I'll rise to any challenge you set me,"

Fergus said, which was the best possible response at a time when Rupert himself would have eviscerated the man with insults.

Denbigh continued to look down his nose at Fergus. "Fine. I challenge you to a cricket match."

Rupert blinked. "A cricket match?"

It seemed like such a benign way to settle a vicious debate that he instantly distrusted it.

"You form your team and I'll form mine,"

Denbigh said, shifting his focus to Rupert as though declaring him captain of the opposition. "We'll play in three weeks' time. At Lord's Cricket Grounds. I have connections there."

He grinned gloatingly.

"As do I,"

Rupert said, standing just as tall and staring Denbigh straight in the eyes. "You're on."

Denbigh laughed, the sound both scoffing and proud. "I'd like to see that red-headed dog figure out which end of a cricket bat is up."

"I hate to inform you, sir,"

Fergus growled, "but I was an opening batsman and all-arounder on our university team. Our undefeated university team."

Denbigh looked taken aback for a moment before recovering himself. "We shall see,"

he said, then promptly walked off.

It was as though he took a cloud of bad air with him. Once Denbigh was gone, Rupert finally breathed easy, letting his back and neck unclench.

"Cricket,"

Freddy said with an uncertain shrug. "We're good at that."

"Which means there has to be more to the challenge than that,"

Rupert voiced his concern aloud.

"Does there?"

Fergus asked. "An idjit like that might just be daft enough to think I really can't play and that losing on the cricket pitch is the darkest blight against a man's honor that there is."

Rupert rubbed his neck uneasily. "He might just be that dumb."

A peel of laughter nearby snagged his attention. Cece and Reese twirled past them, enjoying their waltz a little too much. Rupert clenched his jaw. Wasn't it bloody well time for the song to be over?

He caught sight of several sets of matronly, matchmaking women watching his Cece and Reese. They all seemed to think a coup was taking place. Rupert turned his attention to Cece once more. She certainly was enjoying herself. And on paper, Reese was a good match for her. Lord Malcolm was a Marquess himself, after all. It could be argued that marrying him would be a step down for Cece. She'd never been interested in rank, but she'd never been interested in a lot of things up until now.

There was only one thing Rupert could do to stop the disaster that had the potential to take place right under his nose. He would have to step up his efforts and win Cece in a way that even she couldn't refute.