Lois Menzel Read Free Page B

eyewitness account to all their friends. I cannot bear to think about it. It is all too awful.”
    “A few days at home to recover is understandable, Celia, but sooner or later you must enter society again. And if a few people should stare or whisper, let them. All will soon be forgotten.”
    “I will not forget,” Celia cried passionately. “Not ever!”
    On Thursday morning Mrs. Demming once more received Mr. Graydon alone, for nothing she could say would budge Celia from her bedchamber. This time he left behind a floral tribute for the young lady: a modest bunch of violet hearts-ease tied with a green ribbon. When Lavinia delivered this to Celia, she burst into tears. Wisely Lavinia decided not to tell her child that the gentleman insisted upon calling yet once again on the following day.
    By Friday morning Celia was heartily sick of her bedchamber and ventured downstairs for an early breakfast. At precisely twenty-five after eleven, Lavinia asked if Celia would be kind enough to put on a shawl and go out into the garden to see if there were any chrysanthemums that might serve to brighten the sitting room.
    A few minutes later Lavinia heard her butler admitting Mr. Graydon in the front hall. She walked there to meet him.
    When the butler had left them alone, he said, “I hope you have been able to convince Miss Demming to see me, ma’am.”
    “I must admit, sir, I have never known my child to be so obstinate as she is being in this instance. I assure you, she is not typically so. I actually believe that if she would speak with you, it would help her get past this terrible embarrassment she is feeling. She is presently in the garden behind the house. Perhaps we should join her there.”
    Anthony followed her down a short hallway and out a rear door into a neatly landscaped garden with high walls and winding brick paths.
    Celia turned when she heard the door closing, and then stood transfixed as she saw who accompanied her mother. If she could have run away, she would have, but they barred the only way back into the house.
    In a light conversational tone, Lavinia said unnecessarily, “Look who has come to pay us a call, Celia—Mr. Graydon. I believe I will leave you to entertain him, for I really must have some of the Michaelmas daisies for the dinner table tonight.” She casually took the shears from her daughter’s unresisting hand, excused herself, and walked away, staying in sight but out of earshot. Anthony walked forward until he was standing within a few feet of Celia.
    She felt herself blushing and dropped her gaze, steadfastly regarding the cut flowers in her hands.
    “I have called three days in succession hoping to see you,” he said. “I wanted to assure myself that you had not been injured, but even more, I wanted to apologize. I believe it was my fault that you fell.”
    This brought her gaze up to meet his. His face was full of concern, his eyes apologetic. “How could it possibly be your fault?” she asked.
    “I caught your eye from the bottom of the stairs. I distracted you. If I have been the cause of any injury to you, I will never forgive myself. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. Coming down the stairs—you were so lovely. You are so lovely.”
    Celia blushed anew, not so much affected by the words themselves as by the tone in which he uttered them. His voice was low and full, charged with emotion.
    He reached to take her free hand and found it was cold and shaking. He enclosed it between both of his.
    “I was not injured, as you can see. And you were not to blame, please do not think it. It was an accident, nothing more.”
    Still in an intimate, caressing tone he said, “I have missed seeing you these past several days. Will you come driving with me today—this afternoon?”
    As Celia hesitated, her mother sailed back to the couple, and Anthony dropped the young lady’s hand. “And have you two been having a cozy chat?”
    “We have, ma’am,” Anthony replied, “I have