you're going. Or with whom, although I daresay I can guess."
"I'm meeting Jared. He's going to show me the sights of Paris by night." Anticipation shivered through her.
"Why are you wearing this dress? It's quite nice but definitely not for evenings. Why aren't you wearing one of the new Worth gowns?"
"Enuly." Cece said patiently, "we are both agreed that Jared is not financially well off. I would hate for him to feel uncomfortable if I were to appear in a dress that cost an indecent amount of money."
"You don't want him to know about Father's wealth, do you?"
"Heavens, no."
"Why on earth not?"
"I told you: I do not want him to be ill-at-ease." Cece's tone hardened. "And even at home I have found men are more often than not as interested in a girl's dowry or inheritance as they are the girl herself. I would prefer to enjoy myself without having to worry whether he is attracted to me or to Father's money. Besides, just one of the gowns Mother has purchased would likely finance work on his automobile for months."
"There." Emily finished the last button. "It's quite scandalous, you know."
"His automobile?"
"No: your meeting him this way. Mother and Father would never approve."
"Exactly." Cece nodded. "That's precisely why—"
"I know, I know," Emily said impatiently. "I won't tell. But I honestly don't understand why you insist on going behind their backs. This man may not have a title, or a penny to his name for that matter, but he's obviously intelligent and ambitious. He seems quite passionate about that horseless carriage of his, absurd though it may be. I think he is very much like Father must have been when he was first starting out to build his business. I suspect Father would like, possibly even admire, Mr. Grayson's drive and aspirations. Why don't you just introduce him to Mother and Father?"
"Oh, I could do that. I suppose, and I probably will at some point. But for now," Cece shrugged and grinned, "I prefer to keep him to myself. It's much more fun and exciting this way. Why, I'm getting to know him—the real him—without all the rigid rules and regulations society imposes on men and women."
Emily crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wardrobe. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
"In love?" Astounded, Cece stared. "I surely would not call it love. I'm intrigued by him. I find him extremely interesting. But love? Why, I don't even—"
"Don't tell me again how you don't believe in love."
" 'Love is the yoke of slavery that binds women to the servitude of men,' "Cece quoted.
Emily groaned. "Where did you come up with that?"
"I don't recall," Cece said vaguely. "I read it somewhere."
"Well, it's silly." Emily glared. "I don't see why you're so adamant about not being in love. Especially since you've never acted this way about any other man. Why, from the moment you first met him your behavior has been even more outrageous than usual."
"In what way?" Cece's voice rang with challenge.
"First of all"—Emily ticked the points off on her fingers—"you risked your life in that infernal machine of his."
"It was simply a matter of sampling progress, nothing more," Cece said loftily.
Enuly threw her a skeptical glance. "Secondly, you chased him here to Paris—"
"I did not chase him." Cece said indignantly. "I told you; we came to Paris because Mother's always wanted to."
"Forgive me, that slipped my mind." Emily's words dripped with sarcasm. "Third, you let him drag us all over the Louvre, a museum we had already spent hours at, and you hung on every boring word he said."
"I did not hang on his every word," Cece said defensively. "It's simply that I found his discussions extremely interesting and enlightening. You should have paid more attention," she said pointedly.
"Hah." Emily rolled her eyes toward the ornate plaster ceiling. "You two were so wrapped up in talking to each other, neither of you even noticed I was there."
"Of course we knew you were there." Cece pulled her
"I'm meeting Jared. He's going to show me the sights of Paris by night." Anticipation shivered through her.
"Why are you wearing this dress? It's quite nice but definitely not for evenings. Why aren't you wearing one of the new Worth gowns?"
"Enuly." Cece said patiently, "we are both agreed that Jared is not financially well off. I would hate for him to feel uncomfortable if I were to appear in a dress that cost an indecent amount of money."
"You don't want him to know about Father's wealth, do you?"
"Heavens, no."
"Why on earth not?"
"I told you: I do not want him to be ill-at-ease." Cece's tone hardened. "And even at home I have found men are more often than not as interested in a girl's dowry or inheritance as they are the girl herself. I would prefer to enjoy myself without having to worry whether he is attracted to me or to Father's money. Besides, just one of the gowns Mother has purchased would likely finance work on his automobile for months."
"There." Emily finished the last button. "It's quite scandalous, you know."
"His automobile?"
"No: your meeting him this way. Mother and Father would never approve."
"Exactly." Cece nodded. "That's precisely why—"
"I know, I know," Emily said impatiently. "I won't tell. But I honestly don't understand why you insist on going behind their backs. This man may not have a title, or a penny to his name for that matter, but he's obviously intelligent and ambitious. He seems quite passionate about that horseless carriage of his, absurd though it may be. I think he is very much like Father must have been when he was first starting out to build his business. I suspect Father would like, possibly even admire, Mr. Grayson's drive and aspirations. Why don't you just introduce him to Mother and Father?"
"Oh, I could do that. I suppose, and I probably will at some point. But for now," Cece shrugged and grinned, "I prefer to keep him to myself. It's much more fun and exciting this way. Why, I'm getting to know him—the real him—without all the rigid rules and regulations society imposes on men and women."
Emily crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wardrobe. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
"In love?" Astounded, Cece stared. "I surely would not call it love. I'm intrigued by him. I find him extremely interesting. But love? Why, I don't even—"
"Don't tell me again how you don't believe in love."
" 'Love is the yoke of slavery that binds women to the servitude of men,' "Cece quoted.
Emily groaned. "Where did you come up with that?"
"I don't recall," Cece said vaguely. "I read it somewhere."
"Well, it's silly." Emily glared. "I don't see why you're so adamant about not being in love. Especially since you've never acted this way about any other man. Why, from the moment you first met him your behavior has been even more outrageous than usual."
"In what way?" Cece's voice rang with challenge.
"First of all"—Emily ticked the points off on her fingers—"you risked your life in that infernal machine of his."
"It was simply a matter of sampling progress, nothing more," Cece said loftily.
Enuly threw her a skeptical glance. "Secondly, you chased him here to Paris—"
"I did not chase him." Cece said indignantly. "I told you; we came to Paris because Mother's always wanted to."
"Forgive me, that slipped my mind." Emily's words dripped with sarcasm. "Third, you let him drag us all over the Louvre, a museum we had already spent hours at, and you hung on every boring word he said."
"I did not hang on his every word," Cece said defensively. "It's simply that I found his discussions extremely interesting and enlightening. You should have paid more attention," she said pointedly.
"Hah." Emily rolled her eyes toward the ornate plaster ceiling. "You two were so wrapped up in talking to each other, neither of you even noticed I was there."
"Of course we knew you were there." Cece pulled her
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