Chapter Sixteen

" G ood evening, Lord and Lady Whitford. Your home looks enchanting this evening." Anthony sketched a bow, taking his hostess's hand and gallantly kissing the air above her fingers.

"What a pleasure to have you with us, Lord Stirling," Lady Whitford simpered. "We did not expect your company this evening."

"No indeed. When I sent my regrets last week I was feeling a bit ill, but I am much recovered and I thought I should make an appearance, as there is often a dearth of gentlemen to dance with the ladies at these sorts of events." Insufferable twits , Anthony thought. Where is Cecilia?

"How thoughtful of you, my lord. I'm sure the ladies will be gratified by your consideration."

Anthony bowed again. "Indeed, Lady Whitford." He excused himself from the receiving line and pushed his way through to the ballroom.

The first set of dances had yet to begin, and the room was crowded with young men and women eager to find a partner. He had no trouble spotting her. She stood tall and aloof in the multitude, her height and regal bearing giving her the appearance of a Goddess thronged by worshippers. He tried to breathe but found he had lost the ability. She was nothing less than stunning tonight, her Grecian form dressed to perfection in a daring gown cut from a shade of shimmering peacock indigo silk that made her skin appear even more creamy white and her mane more fiery red. The simple twist of her hair was adorned with a thin gold circlet, and she cooled herself with a fan of peacock feathers that would have looked unforgivably garish on any other woman.

Young gentlemen swarmed around her, hanging on her every word as she made what appeared to be a demure joke. The gentlemen laughed politely and Cecilia hid her insincere smile behind her fan. She looked every inch the delicate, polite maiden. Anthony knew better. Though she listened to the young bucks around her, she was looking for someone. And he knew who.

Anthony approached just as one of the young men was begging the privilege of the first dance. Cecilia opened her mouth to politely decline, but Anthony beat her to the punch.

"I'm afraid, gentlemen, that Lady Cecilia has promised the first dance to me."

She fixed him with a venomous glare.

"Shall we?" he asked, tucking her arm through his and leading her away from the hungry pack of men.

She refused to look at him. "Please, do not make me dance. You cannot be so cruel."

He patted her hand. "No, I cannot. I thought we might take a turn about the room instead." He felt her struggle to keep from limping as they strolled through the horde of guests. "Or," he said, his conscience getting the better of him. "We could find a place to sit."

She nodded curtly.

Keeping her arm firmly on his, he led her out of the ballroom and down a back hallway.

"Where are we going?" she demanded.

"Somewhere we can talk in private," he whispered.

She tried to pull away from him. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"

He gripped her hand and shoved her through the entrance to Whitford's library, shutting the door behind them. She forced a laugh and shot him a condescending glance. "Keen to reenact our first encounter, my lord?"

He pushed her down onto a chaise lounge so she could not complain that we was making her walk, and loomed over her. "Do not play coy with me, Cecilia."

She smirked, trailing the edge of her fan down his chest. "I never play coy."

He wrenched the fan out of her hand and tossed it away. "What do you plan to do about Captain Brinkley?"

"Nothing at all, my Lord," she demurred.

"Don't lie to me, Cecilia!" he shouted. She attempted to stand, but he pushed her back down. "You mean to kill him, don't you?" Her lip curled. "Don't you?" he pressed.

She looked up at him, a cruel smile forming at her mouth that did not reach her eyes. "Yes," she hissed.

"How? Poison in his champagne? A dagger in his back when he meets you for a tryst?" he demanded. "This is madness, Cecilia! You will get yourself found out!"

She stood and shoved him away from her. "How dare you presume to place value on my pain!" she shouted. "Do you know that when he first raped me, he gloated that he was taking a Duke's daughter's virginity? The only thing that stopped me from killing him at that very moment was the satisfying knowledge that he was two years too late for that." She bared her teeth like a cornered dog and Anthony checked the impulse to back away. "And every time after, I restrained myself from killing him because I knew I would be caught! They would have found me out and sent me home to prison, or put me in front of the firing squad before they ever learned I was a woman. And now, I have the opportunity to free myself and avenge myself, and you would hold me back? His death is nothing compared to what I have suffered! His life is my due!"

"And your life will be forfeit if you take his!" Anthony pinioned her wrists in his hands to keep her from leaving. "They will hang you at Tyburn. I will not see you die Cecilia! I will not!"

She wrenched herself free and grabbed him by the collar. He stumbled back against the bookcase, the unexpected show of strength knocking the wind out of him.

"Enough! Do you give me no credit, Anthony?" she asked. "I will not murder him! I will give him a death befitting his crimes and my honor."

He recovered his breath and the import of her words struck him. "You mean to challenge him to a duel?"

Her eyes sparked with vengeance. "Yes."

"And if he should kill you?"

"Unlikely. He is good, but I know his handicaps."

"But you are wounded!" he said, exasperated. She was determined to see harm to herself.

"Then he and I shall be evenly matched. And if he does kill me, which I do not predict, then I shall still be rid of him."

Anthony leaned back against the bookcase and ran his hands through his hair. "It is still madness, Cecilia," he said again, as if proving a madman's madness to him could cure him.

She frowned at him, shaking her head in disappointment. "It is something I must do. Please try to understand."

"Oh, I do understand. I don't like it, but I understand. That doesn't mean I won't try to stop you."

She glared at him.

"You're right. I won't be able to stop you."

She laced her satin gloved fingers through his and brought his hand up to her heart. "I would much rather have you as a friend then an enemy."

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "I could never be your enemy. Nonetheless, it will not work."

She snatched her hand away. "Why? You doubt my ability with a sword?"

"No," he smiled ruefully. "Surprisingly I do not. But he will never accept your challenge. The moment you challenge him, he will reveal you to the world. He will not fight you. He does not respect you enough."

A shadow of fear sped across her face. She shook her head slowly. "He would not…" She looked down at her feet, frowning in frustration, then took his hands in hers again and fixed him with her honest, steady stare. He had the brief feeling that he should be worried before she said, "Then there is only one course to take. You must make the challenge."

"Me? I am not the best swordsman, Cecilia. I would happily die for you, but it would not set you free."

"No, you fool." She gave him a gentle slap to the shoulder. "You challenge him. I come as your second. Then I fight in your stead. He will not refuse me then, when the challenge is already made, and thus prove himself a coward."

Anthony considered saying no immediately. It was foolhardy. It was dangerous. And it was the only honorable chance for Cecilia to have her revenge and free herself of Captain Brinkley. Every bit of his gentlemanly upbringing told him to say no. But Cecilia clearly didn't need a gentleman. Thank God, as he wasn't one. Perhaps it was only her deep, begging amber eyes; perhaps it was something else, but he found himself saying, "Alright."

She let out a great sigh of relief and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for an embrace. For a moment, he wondered if she was using him again, drawing him in, playing on his lust…

At the moment, with her heart beating a contented refrain against his own, he could not care less.

"So what do we do?" he asked.

"I let him find me tonight. He told me he would. Then you find us, and you slap him in the face with your gloves."

He laughed at her ability to put such a serious topic in a humorous light. "And do you think he will take the challenge?"

"I believe so. He is the son of a peer, and though he has no honor in regards to women, he holds his family honor in high esteem. He will take the challenge, or he will be disgraced. I will see to that."

"Then, my Lady Vengeance, you should make your way back to the ball."