Miss Goodhue Lives for a Night Read Online Free Page A

around.
    Then they fell silent again, and he felt stupid again. Luckily, the tea came, filling a few minutes with clanks of china on wood, and awkward bustling as the maid arranged the tray.
    After she was dismissed, Cecilia took a grateful sip of tea, putting color back in her cheeks.
    â€œWhen did you become an attorney?” she asked suddenly, cutting through the quiet. “You never wanted to study the law. You said that only people without imagination needed such rules.”
    He grimaced. “I chose to focus on the law when I . . . went back to school.”
    After that summer. That tumultuous summer a decade ago, when every nerve in his body had come alive and sang one single word. Cee .
    He’d been sent to stay with his uncle Lockwood after being sent down from school for the second time. He’d done well enough with his tutors at home, but something happened when he came to the university.
    He’d discovered the world. And suddenly sitting around a classroom seemed like the dullest way to spend his life. A few evenings with mates in the pubs, a few later evenings with barmaids from said pubs, a prank or two on his professors . . . and soon enough, he was spending his summer not with his cronies tearing about London, but at his uncle’s estate just outside Manchester, where he was expected to keep country hours and learn about old farming techniques and new investment opportunities in mill technology.
    It was supposed to be a mundane summer of complete boredom.
    Instead, he’d met Cecilia Goodhue.
    She had just turned sixteen, newly out in society and taking in the world with wide, eager eyes. He was twenty, and therefore so much more worldly.
    They’d met in town—his uncle had come to call on her father about a matter of business. Much like the present situation, her father advised his uncle on legal matters. He’d come along and quickly became bored by all the business discussion, until Cecilia had stuck her head into the room, asking her father if he intended to join them for luncheon.
    â€œYou know I don’t like to be disturbed, Cecilia,” her father had reprimanded.
    â€œYes, but Mother sent me,” she said, demure. Then her eyes had flicked toward where Theo was seated. “There is more than enough for guests, if you are so inclined.”
    â€œYes,” Theo had said, before his uncle could answer. “Er, that is . . . I’m starving.”
    They’d stayed for luncheon. An entire meal when every time he glanced Cecilia’s way she was looking at him—but then her eyes shunted away so quickly he thought he’d imagined it. Only a telltale blush on her cheek gave her away.
    After luncheon, while his uncle and her father still talked business, he managed to find a way to wander toward the small walled garden where she happened to be picking lavender. Or rather, pretended to be picking lavender.
    â€œI’m told lavender is one of the most recognizable smells in the world,” he’d said.
    â€œIs it?” she replied. Then she inhaled deeply from the bouquet she’d gathered in her hands. “I can believe it. It smells like summer.”
    He came over tentatively and breathed in the scent. Her scent. “Unforgettable,” he’d said. Which in and of itself was remarkable. Normally he was tongue-tied around women, but it was as if he’d suddenly been blessed by the gods of charm and wit. She’d looked up at him with those big dark eyes, a rose blush spreading over her cheeks, and he was completely done for.
    The rest of the summer was spent planning, plotting, and stealing moments. Volunteering to run errands in town for his uncle. Willingly going to public balls on the chance she would be there. Discovering that there was a copse on the Lockwood estate that was so near town local children often used it as a small park. There was an oak tree that in the dark of night