Page 19 of Wicked By Design

“Miss Halfpenny. His grace found her in difficulty whilst out riding. The young lady has turned her ankle. I have called for the doctor.”

“Poor Miss Halfpenny,” Cilly replied sympathetically. “Ought we to go through? I do not wish to trouble her if she is in discomfort.”

“I believe the dowagers are still expecting you,” Howard replied ruefully.

“Ah.” Cilly smiled and nodded. “Very well.”

She turned to Damian, who gave a resigned shrug. “Why not? I have passed almost five minutes without having my character shredded. I believe I am beginning to miss the sensation.”

Cilly laughed softly and took his arm. “I shall protect you,” she said with mock gravity, but was at once arrested by the look he gave her. “I-I was only teasing. I know you need no protecting, really.”

He snorted, and Cilly wondered if she had misconstrued the source of his surprise. Had no one ever stood up to protect him, even in jest?

She pondered this, slanting another curious glance at her new fiancé as they made their way to the dowager’s private parlour. It was a lovely, sunny room, decorated in shades of green and gold.

“Ah, Cecilia, my dear. We have a guest, a wounded soldier,” Gee-Gee announced upon seeing them.

“So I hear. Miss Halfpenny, I am so sorry to hear of your accident.”

The young woman, who appeared rather mortified at being the subject of such attention, smiled faintly. Her cheeks were pink, and she looked very much as if she would have run away if only she could. “You are too kind. Everyone has been, and it was all my own fault for not looking where I was going.”

“Nonsense,” Gee-Gee barked, making Miss Halfpenny jump a little. “That path is a treacherous one. I used to climb it when I was a younger woman, but I’d not attempt it now. You were visiting Miss Foxworthy, I suppose?”

Clara nodded.

“Miss Halfpenny has had her portrait painted.”

Cilly turned, rather surprised at the male voice, and realised Hawkney was in the room too. He carried a small crystal glass to Miss Halfpenny and handed it to her. She took it, sniffing dubiously.

“That is excellent brandy, Miss Halfpenny. Don’t drink it all at once,” he added dryly, his lips quirking.

Miss Halfpenny shot him a dark look which made Cilly reevaluate what she knew of the young woman. Anyone who could glare at the duke in such a way was not short of backbone.

Her grandmother spoke then, taking the young woman’s attention. “My granddaughter has just become engaged, Miss Halfpenny, to Lord Rivington.”

Damian stepped forward, smiling. “We have not yet been introduced, your grace.”

“Ah, Rivington, might I make known to you Miss Clara Halfpenny? Clara, my dear, this is Viscount Rivington.”

Damian bowed courteously and Miss Halfpenny blushed but gamely raised her brandy glass to him. “A pleasure, my lord. Please forgive me for not returning your courtesy.”

“Oh, I prefer a salute with a fine glass of brandy over a curtsey any day,” Damian said with a wicked smile.

Miss Halfpenny gave a startled laugh and Damian grinned wider.

“And congratulations to you both on your engagement,” she said, smiling warmly at both Cilly and Damian. It appeared the young woman was ignorant of the circumstances of their betrothal, and her pleasure in their news was sincere. It was so nice to be congratulated without a snide comment that Cilly returned her smile with genuine pleasure.

“According to Miss Halfpenny, the portrait Miss Foxworthy has produced is rather a masterpiece,” Hawkney said, putting himself between Miss Halfpenny and Damian.

A dart of irritation stabbed at Cilly. What the devil did he think Damian would do, eat the girl?

“Oh, I-I don’t mean—” The poor creature looked horrified. “Hawkney, you make it sound as if I have a very high opinion of myself, which you know very well I do not.”

The room fell silent, everyone gazing at Miss Halfpenny in astonishment. To hear her address him as simply Hawkney was one thing, but to hear her tear him off a strip… well, well. Cilly grinned, deciding she liked the girl very much indeed.

Hawkney, to give him credit, did not so much as blink. “I said no such thing. I said the work was a masterpiece, which credits the artist, not the sitter. An opinion which you gave to me in no uncertain terms.”

Miss Halfpenny huffed. “I know very well what you said, and I know very well what I heard. They are not necessarily the same thing.”