Allison Lane Read Free Page B

stand a far better chance of attracting Symington’s interest than you do.  Why would a duke’s heir look at a bluestocking spinster whose countenance is so plain she would be considered an antidote in Town?  I can offer beauty, charm, and every female accomplishment he could ever want.  Thank God for Lady Mitchell’s illness.  Lewis cannot return for at least a fortnight.  By then I will be promised to another.”
    Elizabeth started to object, but Cecilia swept on. 
    “It is perfect, Elizabeth!  We will live in London and never see Cumberland again.  You heard Papa.  Symington is wealthy and heir to a great title.  No more unfashionable gowns.  No more antiquated carriages.  No more pitying looks from merchants’ daughters whose wardrobes are newer than mine.  I will be a duchess, with all the world at my feet!  Imagine the power – and the good I could do for the less fortunate,” she added, abandoning her baser motives for the moment.  Oddly enough, her generous gestures were every bit as genuine as her selfishness and blind stubbornness.
    “I see nothing wrong with flirting with him,” agreed Elizabeth.  “He may fall madly in love with you.”
    “Of course he will!”  She was back to her usual self.  “Every gentleman I meet is smitten by my beauty.  Symington will be no different.”
    “We all know that you are the local diamond.  But be careful.  Fawning will likely disgust him.  London gentlemen dislike girls who are too coming.  The heir to a duchy will be accustomed to girls who throw themselves at his title.  If you act like every other scheming miss, he will brush you aside without a second look.”
    Cecilia frowned.
    “And you had best not let Fosdale suspect your plans, or he will lock you in the attic until Symington leaves,” Elizabeth added.
    For once Cecilia did not protest the warning.  They had both heard the determination in his voice.  “I will wed him,” she vowed, grasping the door handle.  “And you will do nothing to stop me.  You have to admit that you don’t want him.”
    Elizabeth gave up.  “As you wish.  But at least take the time to honestly consider the future.  You have always liked Sir Lewis.  He cares about your happiness and will make a devoted husband.  Symington might prove to be an ogre, no matter how dazzling his wealth and status.”
    Anger flared, but Cecilia suppressed it.  “Very well.”
    Elizabeth grimaced.  Calculation had remained in Cecilia’s eyes.  But it really wasn’t her affair.  She had done her best to point out the difference between fantasy and reality, but Cecilia’s dreams were too deeply embedded.  As was her skepticism. 
    Since neither of them had traveled beyond Cumberland, Elizabeth’s voice carried no more authority than if they had been discussing the exact population of heaven or the fashions currently popular in China.  And Cecilia considered herself irresistible.  Elizabeth could only pray that the girl would do nothing stupid.  Trickery would lead to the same barren existence that plagued their mother.
    She sighed. 
    Cecilia considered London a glittering paradise.  Her imagination had woven twisted images of Society into a vision of opulence, frivolity, and male adoration that could not possibly be true.  Her success with area beaux made her think she was a modern Helen of Troy, capable of inciting wars – or at least duels – and winning the devotion of every gentleman she met.  Rejected suitors would dedicate their lives to mourning their loss.
    Such improbable fantasies were absurd, of course, but Elizabeth did not have time to tilt at Cecilia’s delusions today.  Her own problems were too critical.
    Fosdale was not stupid.  Tying her to Symington would require a compromise and could only be accomplished within minutes of the guest’s arrival, for he must know that she would be on her guard as soon as she recognized his motives. 
    She had no intention of marrying anyone.