Page 8 of An Accidental Elopement

“He must have crawled out the window then,” Miss Gaywood suggested. Archie could not tell from her tone of voice whether she was being sarcastic or not. He had to know her better to be able to discern that without seeing her face.

“No, the windows were all closed,” the elder Miss Drummond said thoughtfully. If Miss Gaywood had been sarcastic, at least she had not caught it.

They chatted for a minute or so where the elder Miss Drummond hastily enquired after Miss Gaywood’s health and then was off. Archie waited for a couple of minutes before he opened the door to the salon where Miss Gaywood was recuperating. Not just because he needed the rush of arousal to leave his body, but to be absolutely certain that the elder Miss Drummond would not suddenly appear again.

Cecilia Gaywood was lying on a settee by the fire, a blanket draped over her legs, one of her stockinged feet resting on a pillow. She was wearing a dress in a soft yellow color that did not go that well with her golden blonde hair. There was too much of the same color. She would have looked much better in a crimson or magenta that would bring out her raspberry-colored lips and the flush in her cheeks. He met her gray eyes and saw that she was not as surprised as he thought she might be.

“Good afternoon, Lord Archibald,” she greeted with a knowing smile on her face.

“Did you know I was there?” Archie had to ask. A bit dumbfounded by her reaction.

“I suspected as much. There is a hide-away between two rooms in my grandfather’s estate as well.”

Her grandfather was a very wealthy baronet who owned an estate at least two-thirds the size of Great Farleigh Hall.

“Well,” Archie said and scratched his neck. He was not certain whether to apologize for his ungentlemanly behavior towards the elder Miss Drummond or not. Being alone with Miss Gaywood was even more ungentlemanly however and she had not objected to that, so he decided against it. “Actually, there are three hidden rooms like that. And two secret passageways. One from the master bedroom to the kitchen and one from the study to the garden.”

“Impressive. Your family must have had a great need of hiding, sir.” She was unsuccessfully trying to contain her teasing smile that he could not help but return.

***

Why was it so easy to tease Lord Archibald? She could speak to him as if he was one of her brothers, while at the same time being very aware that he was not. Previously she had always guarded every word she said to a gentleman.

He smiled at her jest but did not comment on it as he moved with the grace of a feline from the door to the chair next to the settee. He folded himself into it with grace, sitting casually with one foot resting on the knee of his other leg. Cecilia had no idea what he was doing and could only stare at him for a moment.

“You should probably leave; if anyone finds you here...” she began.

“Do you want me to leave?” he drawled and Cecilia gulped with a dry sound.

Her mother and father had been by this morning. Algernon had popped his head in right after luncheon and Flint had said yesterday that he would be by sometime this afternoon. Besides this, she was alone; her family and Flint were apparently so preoccupied with the house party that they had no time to be with her.

She had gone through the fashion magazines that the duchess had found for her and had been working on a needlepoint of a flower when first the elder Miss Drummond and then Lord Archibald had interrupted her. She normally liked working on needlepoint but merely as a way to occupy her hands while talking to others, hearing music, or having a story read. Not as her sole occupation. Thus, it was tempting to ask Lord Archibald to stay.

There was of course the question of propriety. Technically if they were found together, she would be considered ruined, but she doubted that either her family members, the duchess or Flint would be that strict. Especially if she was on the settee and Lord Archibald was in the chair.

“No,” she finally answered him but did not dare to look at him as she did so. Instead, she turned towards the wall that he had entered through. The hidden door was truly well made: One would not expect that it was there unless one knew to look for it. “How does it work?” she asked to start a conversation.

“You pull the candlestick on the wall. Besides this, I’m not exactly sure what the mechanics behind it are,” Lord Archibald answered.

Cecilia still did not dare to look at him but studied the candlestick on the wall. It looked like the others that had been placed about the room.

“Very fascinating,” she murmured. It seemed straight out of a gothic novel. “Why would your ancestors have such a need?” she could not help but ask, trying to hide her smile as she needled him.

“The foundation of the hall is medieval. I suppose that back then it was always wise to have a way of escaping an attack. I know some of the hidden passages were built by my great-great-grandfather who found himself regularly pestered by both debt collectors and his angry tenants. It’s said that he had to hide from both on more than one occasion,” Lord Archibald said.

“How very undignified,” Cecilia murmured as she tried not to study his face. The almost ice-blonde hair, the high cheekbones, and his blue eyes along with his wide shoulders made her think of the tales of Vikings she had heard. Right along with the feeling that something savage and raw simmered right underneath the surface. She should not be attracted to him, she scolded herself. Not only would she be married to another man soon and had no right to think of him in such a manner, but he was also a rake and did not care about women’s emotions.

If Flint had made her feel the same way, she would have been all over him when he had kissed her in the hallway the other night. She would have pressed him into marrying sooner and not have allowed that he waited until the mourning period for his grandfather was over. And she hoped that if he had felt the same way he would have wanted to marry her sooner as well.

But attraction was a ridiculous notion to base a marriage on, she had learned that. What she and Flint had was the foundation of a relationship that would be stable and comfortable for decades. They might not have overwhelming passion but both they, their families as well as all the people that depended on the earldom of Lambourn as well as the baronetcy of her grandfather and one day her father, would benefit from it.

Lord Archibald was of course oblivious to her musings and went on talking about his indebted great-great-grandfather.

“Well, he certainly was not the one of my forefathers that makes us most proud. His son, my great-grandfather, and my grandfather labored tremendously hard at restoring the family fortune,” he told her.

It was not come il faut to discuss pecuniary problems, but then again not much that Lord Archibald did was come il faut it seemed. If only she could call him Archie as she had heard his parents and sister do. The name suited him so much better than Archibald.

“And your father?” she asked because she felt that she at least had to contribute somewhat to the conversation and not simply be ogling him.