[Previously: Cedric is revealed as the Masked Avenger. (Everyone act surprised!) Lavinia, however, still believes there are three men in her life (not counting her father). She's still gathering data and trying to make up her mind about them.]
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Upon leaving her father in the Library Lavinia attempted to pass the time in various ways; trying to avoid the Earl as much as possible, while keeping an eye and ear open to catch Cedric when, or if, he ever made an appearance. It had become terribly important to her to spend time with him without such distractions as candlelight or dancing which might interfere with her own brand of research: research into her feelings for him.
She sat with a book opened before her in one of the parlours, but could later remember nothing of its contents, or even the title. Then she lingered over her stitchery in a salon from which she could watch the staircase and part of the Hall, but that too proved fruitless. Finally, after three hours, the unmistakable sounds of an arrival told her that her father's friend, Lord Fordney, and his lady wife had arrived. They had been visiting acquaintances further north and were breaking their return journey to London with a stop at Kentham. While she was delighted to see them she knew there would be almost no opportunity for conversation with Cedric--private, or otherwise for the remainder of the day.
Cedric did put in an appearance at dinner that evening but, while he was cordial when addressed, he seemed content for the most part to merely listen to the conversations of the others; fading into the background, as usual. Later, in the drawing-room, soon after the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies, she managed to exchange a few words with him but, while he smiled at her, there was nothing beyond politeness in his expression.
She knew they could not, of course, resume their relationship exactly where they'd left off the previous evening; not in a place as public as the Earl's drawing-room, but was it too much to expect Cedric to display at least some degree of partiality for her company? Of course, the fact that Lady Fordney was sitting within earshot of the spot where she and Cedric were standing might have had something to do with his reticence, but Lavinia couldn't help but wonder if perhaps something else had occurred to have caused this degree of reserve in him.
Maybe, she thought, she'd been too forward in accompanying him to his office. He hadn't appeared to have minded it at the time but, now that he'd had a chance to think about it, he might have had a change of heart. Had she given him a disgust of her?
Before she could decide upon a way to ask him, his uncle called to him and Lavinia's attention was claimed by Lady Fordney. She was conscious of a feeling of mild frustration, but went to sit on the sofa and listen with kindness to the older woman's gentle ramblings. She and her father owed much to Lord Fordney, for it was due to his efforts, and his connections, that they had arrived safely in England.
The Earl and Lord Fordney, after his lordship had good-naturedly rallied his professorial friend on his lack of card sense, had settled down to a friendly game of piquet. This left Cedric to entertain Monsieur Le Mersurer, which was easy enough to do as the professor was so taken up with his latest discoveries that he was by turns oblivious to his surroundings or engaged upon one-sided discussions with himself, mostly in French. Occasionally Lavinia glanced in Cedric's direction. She doubted if he was deriving much benefit from her father's meanderings, but he was being a considerate listener and she could never catch his eye.
She was still quietly fretting when Cedric deferentially begged everyone's pardon for having to leave the gathering, announcing that he needed to retire for the evening, as he was not feeling entirely recovered from his earlier indisposition. He took punctilious leave of each person in turn, bowing over her ladyship's hand, then turned to wish the Professor a good evening before, finally, arriving by Lavinia's side.
The tea tray was brought in at that precise moment, and Lavinia could have sworn she saw a slight mischievous look flash across Cedric's face. It was gone too quickly for her to be sure, however. The others were turning their attention to the proffered refreshment, their minds already distracted.
For an all too brief period, Lavinia was alone with Cedric. After an entire day of waiting to speak to him, all she was to have was a formal "good night!" Then, just as he began to bow over her hand, he looked up at her and, in that moment, she saw in his eyes a glimmer of appreciative amusement for their current situation, and she began to suspect that he'd timed his departure to coincide with the arrival of the tea.
"I-I hope you will soon recover from y-your ... malady, monsieur," she managed to stammer, not quite sure what to make of such ... singular forethought.
"Merci, mademoiselle," he murmured, his hand still clasping hers. "Perhaps ... you would be willing to share another dance with me ...? When I have recovered?"
The look in his eyes, subdued though it was, was unmistakable, surely. Her heart lightened with the knowledge that she could not have disgusted him after all, for certainly he would not be smiling at her in just that way, if she had. Had he also been waiting for a time when they could be alone?
The prospect of another dance with him pleased her greatly. The proprieties must be observed, however.
"Perhaps, we may, monsieur," she replied softly, gently easing her hand from his and curtseying slightly. She gave him what she hoped was a discreetly encouraging smile, "when you have recovered."
He smiled in return before making his exit and the warmth and friendliness she'd seen in that smile dispelled many of her earlier doubts.
The entire exchange had taken no more than a minute, but she would spend a much longer time pondering it after she'd retired to her own room. As she'd lain awake, she'd reviewed in her mind the events of these past two evenings. It was almost, she reflected, as if Cedric were two different people.
