Cousin Cecilia by Joan Smith

adopted a sympathetic pose, but stated her point all the same. “It is a pity you have not a more suitable set of friends, for young gentlemen of moderate means could ill afford to keep the pace you set, I think.”
    “Oh I am not such an expensive fellow as all that,” he laughed. “A little racing, a little sport. We find an hour now and then to attend to business. I am not about to ruin them, if that is what you fear.”
    “It can hardly amount to fear, as I am so little involved, but the ineligibility of yourself being used as their pattern card does cause a question.”
    He leveled a playful but pointed look at her. “Have you a more suitable companion in mind for me, ma’am?”
    Cecilia swallowed a little gush of pleasure at this hint of wishing to spend more time with her. “I hardly know all the local inhabitants yet,” her mouth said, but her eyes, which she managed with the skill of a courtesan, gave the answer he desired.
    “It is not a local inhabitant I have in mind, but a visitor,” he answered, with the masculine version of the same look.
    “Why Lord Wickham, I do believe you are flirting with me!” she charged.
    “Is that what they call it nowadays?” he parried. “It used to be called trifling when I went abroad.”
    Trifling! Well, he could have hardly have told her more plainly that he meant nothing by his gallantry! And he was looking pretty sharp, too, to make sure she caught the full import. “Now it is called an à suivi flirtation,” she explained. “You are behindhand in the diction regulating society. For shame, and you home for a whole year.”
    “So long as it is only the diction that has changed, and not the rules, I cannot run too far amok.”
    “I shouldn’t think the rules have changed,” she allowed.
    Secure that they now understood each other, Lord Wickham continued his attack. “Do you ride at all, Miss Cummings?”
    “I enjoy it, but have not brought my mount with me.”
    “I have several hacks at the Abbey—one quite a gentle goer, if you would like to have the use of her.”
    “Really you are too kind. I cannot like to accept such a favor from a mere acquaintance, however.”
    “That presents no insurmountable problem. We have only to shift ourselves forward to the status of friends.”
    “Yes,” she smiled and wafted an elegant feathered fan. “And when we are friends, then I shall be happy to accept the loan of a mount.”
    “Friendship will best be achieved by meeting again. As your visit is of so indeterminate a duration, I shall bucket ahead at top speed. Shall we say—tomorrow?”
    Cecilia gave her assent and concealed like a spy that she had got exactly what she wanted from the evening—to establish a firm footing with Lord Wickham.
    The music was striking up again, and she must leave him. Mr. Wideman came forward to claim a dance, and it was with a feeling of satisfaction that Lord Wickham was seen to ask Martha to stand up with him. All the romances were progressing satisfactorily. Martha had had the first dance with Dallan, Alice with Wideman, and Kate Daugherty with Andy Sproule. The evening continued as smoothly as silk, with the same group changing partners amongst themselves. In the corner, Mrs. Meacham congratulated herself on her ingenious idea of asking Cousin Cecilia to visit them. What a marplot she had been not to have taken steps sooner. At this rate, there would be wedding bells before summer.
    Some little while later a waltz was announced, and Cecilia again had the pleasure of being sought by Lord Wickham. He had been abroad when the waltz gained popularity, but his natural grace allowed him to perform well, while still continuing the flirtation. “Had I realized England had unfrozen to the extent of allowing a gentleman to hold a lady in his arms in public, I would have returned sooner,” he smiled.
    “Yet you have waited this long to indulge the pleasure. This is your first assembly.”
    “Till now there has been no lady I was