Romancing Lady Cecily Read Online Free

him instead.
    â€œWhat is his name?” she asked, a muffled question into her hands.
    â€œYou know he wished to remain anonymous. He made it very clear that you not discover his identity until your wedding.”
    â€œWhich is now to be within a week, is it not? Am I to meet my bridegroom without knowing his name? Do I not deserve that at least, Father?”
    Her father gave her an odd smile. “I told him you were a good girl, that you wouldn’t push to know it. But he was sure you would. Somehow he knew you would.”
    Cecily laughed. “He knows me well, does he? Or at least he believes so.”
    â€œAugust. That’s the name he told me to give to you.”
    â€œBut not his true name?”
    Her father glanced away.
    â€œDo I know him, then? Have I met him before? Have I danced with him in between his travels overseas?”
    â€œEnough. I can’t tell you any more. He made me swear to secrecy.”
    â€œI am your daughter!”
    Her father stepped forward and cupped her shoulders, angled his head to bend toward hers. “And you are precious to me beyond life itself. If I did not believe he would treat you well, that he did not have the highest regard for you, no amount of money offered would have persuaded me to give him your hand.”
    â€œBut you did.”
    â€œI did.” His hands lifted from her shoulders. “He has given us much, and we have made an arrangement for your marriage in turn. It is something you will abide by, is it not?”
    A cloak of despair, hot and heavy—was this how Angela felt before she ran away with her lover?—fell over her. Duty. Honor. These were the words of the world to which she belonged. Not passion . Not choice . Her wedding—the inevitable which she’d been preparing for over the past two years, the day she’d hoped would never come—was here. She’d been correct in keeping at least a small part of herself from the baron. If only she could remove all the other pieces she’d so easily surrendered to him.
    Cecily lifted her chin and attempted another smile. She and Angela had both known the lives that had been planned for them, had both happily accepted their futures. But the parallel between them had ended last night when Angela had deserted her husband and child. Unlike Angela, she would not change course. She would not disappoint those who mattered the most to her.
    â€œYes, of course,” she said. “I shall marry as you wish, Father.”
    When she returned to her bedchamber it was to find a bouquet of white lilies held in her maid’s hands. “These just arrived, my lady.” Her arm extended, a small white envelope tucked between her fingers. “And a note—”
    Cecily tore it open when she recognized the familiar script. Unlike her fiancé’s, the baron’s handwriting lay thick and sloped across the parchment, even the curves of each letter’s lines seductive.
    My dearest Lady Cecily,
    I grieve for your loss at the passing of your dear friend Lady Wriothesly.
    You have my deepest sympathies.
    S—
    He must have made inquiries immediately after she left his carriage. His concern had been sincere. Cecily clutched the note and sank to her knees, the tears rising once more.
    The carriage door opened, revealing the exterior of Lady Mayberry’s town house in all of its bedecked glory. Cecily might have been able to send her regrets to every other ball, soiree, afternoon tea and dinner party that week, but no one missed Lady Mayberry’s annual ball. Even when Cecily had tried to convince her mother she shouldn’t go—not only because of her impending nuptials but also because she still wanted to wear mourning for Angela—her mother simply patted her arm and instructed Cecily’s maid to find the violet gown they’d bought specifically for the Mayberry ball at the beginning of the Season.
    The groom appeared in the space before