A Gentleman's Daughter: Her Choice by Reina M. Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

of her acquaintance, especially her uncles, rather married sensible, intelligent, caring women, who could support and sometimes challenge them when their native Wilcox good nature got the better of their sense.
    Fanny and Mrs. Taylor sat on a far settee, their cawking and tittering grated no less than the gossip of her mother and aunt next to her.
    “Why did you ask Mr. Thornhill about Lord Nefton?” her mother asked. “I assumed you had renewed your acquaintance.”
    Cecilia dropped her hand and lowered her eyes to glance surreptitiously at her aunt, who actually blushed. No one had ever mentioned her aunt knowing Lord Nefton, a fact her mother and aunt would be expected to boast of, as they did their other titled acquaintances, such as Sir Mainmount and Countess Sini-Masala.
    “No.” Aunt Higham spied her.
    “You have not seen him these twenty-eight years past?”
    “Your mouth runs ahead of your mind, sister,” Aunt Higham said.
    Cecilia scooted away, hoping her mother had not seen her smile at her aunt’s scold. Male voices echoed from the hall.
    “The gentlemen already?” her aunt said with a grin at Cecilia, who could not help but stare at the door.
    Mr. Thornhill stalked into the room, a lion on the hunt. His eyes roved before settling upon her. She met his challenge though moisture prickled under her gloves.
    “Was the port not to your liking?” Aunt Higham asked the gentlemen.
    “We had not even raised our glasses before Mr. Thornhill insisted we should join you,” Mr. Treacle said with a satisfied smirk at Cecilia.
    Cecilia raised her eyebrow while Mr. Thornhill’s jaw flexed.
    “Perhaps a round of whist?” Aunt Higham said.
    Cecilia’s mother coughed lightly, most likely attempting to signal her daughter to stop staring at Mr. Thornhill. Gladly would Cecilia endure a scold rather than demure to his demanding eyes.
    “While I am happy to oblige,” Mr. Thornhill said without moving, “I have not had the pleasure of hearing music in some time.”
    Cecilia would not be put on display. “Miss Higham is an accomplished--”
    The others had settled around the room, which had become too quiet when Cecilia spoke.
    “Nonsense, niece,” Aunt Higham said, grasping her hand. “You know your cousin fell yesterday and cannot play.” Cecilia did not know any such thing. “Perhaps you will favor us with a song or two.”
    “Yes, Aunt,” she said. She stood, throwing a quick frown at Mr. Thornhill.
    Mr. Thornhill capitulated and sank into the green-upon-green striped padded armchair facing the pianoforte. Cecilia rushed to the instrument and eased onto the bench. Horrid man, he stared at her again with those eyes, sapphire and jade. A river god enchanting her, ready to snatch her to the depths of his murky waters if she dared set a foot too close. She closed her eyes. Opening them, she smiled at her own fancy. Mr. Thornhill remained stony-faced, tapping his fingers on the armrest.
    “Do you have a favorite song?” Cecilia asked him.
    “’Love Will Find Out the Way,’” he said.
    Mr. Treacle guffawed and the Taylors tittered; incredulous smirks caused Cecilia to sit taller.
    “Can you not play something fresher, more lively?” Mr. Treacle ventured.
    Cecilia ignored him and smiled at Mr. Thornhill, only because their companions were even more disagreeable than he was. “I too appreciate the old songs,” she said, beginning before more protest could be given.
    While she sang, she gazed toward the window, urging her mind to Mr. Cateret, for was it not he she loved? Yet by the second verse, her eyes met Mr. Thornhill’s again and stayed locked for the rest of the song. Was he trying to torment her? He did not gaze at her with longing or flirtation, but instead his eyes seemed to search her, wishing to plumb the depths of her being. She shivered and then played a lively air, some new music Mr. Cateret had given her. The company applauded when she finished, save Mr. Thornhill. Giving a curtsy, she