The Duke Jokingly Asked Her to Find Him a Wife — “You May Be Looking at Her, Your Grace!”
Chapter 12
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Throughout dinner, Cecily bore the dowager's veiled remarks with serene composure. When Lady Catherine pointedly inquired whether Cecily did not find the smell of parchment ink "rather common for a lady's fingers," Cecily merely smiled and replied that she found the preservation of truth far sweeter than the perfume of idle gossip.Samuel had choked on his wine; Maximilian had looked at her with an expression of such fierce pride that Cecily had felt her cheeks burn all through the roast duck.Later, in the drawing room, while the gentlemen lingered over port, Lady Catherine cornered Cecily by the pianoforte."You are an attractive young woman, Miss Bennett," Lady Catherine murmured, her fan fluttering with predatory precision. "And no doubt quite clever in your father's office. But cleverness can become an embarrassment when it forgets its station."Cecily kept her posture upright. "My station, Lady Catherine, is that of an honest gentlewoman who earns her bread and owes no man an apology for her existence.""Do not play the philosopher with me, child. His Grace is a duke. He may indulge in a country amusement for a fortnight, but when the time comes, Westhaven will require a duchess from the peerage. A woman of blood, fortune, and connections. A sensible girl would remember that before she makes herself the talk of the county."Cecily felt the cold, familiar sting of society's disdain. She did not raise her voice; she did not tremble. "If His Grace requires blood and fortune, he will no doubt find them in abundance. But if you believe Maximilian Ashcombe is a man who treats human affection as an amusement, then you know your cousin far less than you imagine."The door opened, and the gentlemen entered.Maximilian crossed the room immediately. He did not glance at Lady Catherine, though he had clearly caught the rigid tension between them. He walked straight to Cecily, bowed, and offered his arm."Miss Bennett," he said, loud enough to carry across the entire room, "the rain has passed, and the terrace garden is illuminated by the moon. Would you do me the great honor of walking with me?"Lady Catherine stiffened. Florence beamed. Samuel gave an encouraging nod.Cecily looked up into Maximilian's dark eyes. There was no hesitation in them, no calculation, only an open, steadfast warmth that banished the chill from her heart."I should like that very much, Your Grace," she answered clearly.The night air was cool and washed clean by the evening rain. Water drops sparkled on the leaves of the boxwood hedges, catching the pale silver of the moon.They walked in silence until they reached the stone balustrade overlooking the valley. Far below, the lights of the village flickered like fallen stars."My cousin was insolent to you," Maximilian said, his jaw tight with an anger he had kept locked behind his teeth until now. "I saw her cornering you. If she had the audacity to suggest—"