LITMIR.BIZ

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      Grace reached for her cup of wine and took a long draught, then set it beside her, dabbing her lips with her handkerchief. “Yes, perhaps …” she said offhandedly as she patted the bed. The girls sat, Mirabella at her feet and Cecily at her side. “Now. I’ve summoned you both to help me plan a grand occasion.”

      “Another one?” Mirabella groaned.

      “Yes, Mirabella, another one,” Grace said, weary of the girl’s aversion to all things pleasant. “A sort of Beltane celebration to bring in the spring.”

      “Beltane! But that’s a pagan festival!” Mirabella cried, scandalised.

      “Oh, bother, Mirabella, I didn’t say we would be dancing naked round the bonfire, did I?” Grace returned, thoroughly irritated. “It’s just that I thought this would give us an opportunity to … well, to be together,” she added with a wistful smile. “I thought to order some fabrics and we could design the wardrobe—”

      “During Lent?” Mirabella interposed, wrinkling her nose in disapproval.

      “Oh, my lady, we can plan our own dresses?” Cecily cried, her little face flushing with delight. “Can mine be blue?”

      “Blue would be splendid, Cecily—it will bring out your lovely eyes,” Grace conceded, endeared to the good-natured child. “Blue silk trimmed with lace, perhaps?” She reached out to stroke the child’s cheek.

      “I think it’s wonderful!” Cecily turned toward Mirabella. “We shall have a good time, Mirabella, with your lady mother. You’ll see! You would look stunning in red—red organza or velvet!” She returned her gaze to Grace. “Don’t you think so?”

      Grace nodded; truly Mirabella was an exquisite child, far more beautiful than she knew. A red dress would accentuate all of her assets and if she ever decided it pleased God to smile …

      “I think this display is despicable!” Mirabella huffed, rising from the bed. “My lady, it is Lent, the time of repentance and restraint. To plan such an occasion now, especially one that rings of Beltane, is an affront to God.”

      “Oh, my self-righteous girl …” Grace shook her head. “Who needs Father Alec with you around to keep us in check?”

      Mirabella turned on her heel and quit the room, leaving Cecily to sit stunned, lip quivering, beside Grace, who wrapped her arm about her shoulders and drew her to her breast.

      “There, now, no worries, Cecily,” she soothed. “If I told Mirabella the sky was blue she would say it was brown just to disagree. We shall never see eye to eye, I’m afraid.” She stroked the child’s silky hair, taking comfort in it. “You would still like to help?”

      “Yes, my lady,” Cecily said, offering a timid half smile.

      Grace relaxed against her pillows. She retrieved her cup from the bedside table. “Empty,” she murmured, scowling. “Cecily, be a lamb, won’t you, and fetch your mistress another cup of wine?”

      “Yes, my lady,” Cecily answered as she crawled out of bed to do Grace’s bidding.

      Grace watched the child’s competent little hands fill her cup with the soothing, crimson liquid. How good it was to have such an acquiescent child about!

      “I should like it very much if you spent more time with me,” Grace told her on impulse as Cecily handed her the cup. “It pleases me to be in your company.”

      Cecily smiled, offering another engaging flush of the cheeks. “Thank you, my lady.”

      Grace drank her wine. As it surged through her, warming her trembling limbs and calming her racing heart, she smiled. She would get through another Lent.

      She had a ball to prepare for.

      Hal Pierce spent Lent playing dice with a few other less observant members of the local gentry. He didn’t mind the deprivation, the penance. He considered his life one endless Lent as it were, so the season had little effect on him. And a little dice was harmless enough. He never lost too much; he was careful with his assets. He would not deprive Brey of his rightful inheritance. It was fun, that was all, just a bit of fun. And he needed fun.

      Hal was not a drinking man, he was not a whoring man, and that was more than could be said for most men. Thus he took some measure of pride in himself for being able to go through life with such uncanny restraint. A bit of dice and a hand of cards were his rewards.

      He had married Grace at the age of eighteen. His heart contracted at the thought. She was the beautiful daughter of a wool baron from York and had brought with her a generous dowry. They got on as well as could be expected, though like most marriages, it did not begin as a love match. Since their wedding day they had been tested with rigorous consistency. His parents were ailing, both passing within the first two years of his marriage, leaving the running of the household and management of the vast lands that surrounded it to the young couple. Yet they endured and with endurance came love. They embraced their mutual passion for fun and good company. They shared a love of hunting, hawking, and dancing. Grace became the perfect social ornament. If he focused on those elements he could forget the rest, the lonely nights when their home was not teeming with guests, nights spent in separate bedchambers, nights of solitude and reflection on events that could never be changed.

      That was when Grace slept with a decanter at her bedside. And that was when Hal played dice.

      Because Hal was the only child of the previous Earl of Sumerton it was his hope to fill the house with children of his own. That there were only two and a succession of miscarriages could not be helped. It was the will of God, he supposed, and he cherished his blessings. Brey was a wonderful child, sweet and bonny. And Mirabella … well, he was certain Mirabella would come into her own when softened by marriage and children. It was his hope that she would abandon her fantasy of becoming a nun. Though he would never deter her, it was not the life he had dreamed of for her.

      Dreams … Nothing had gone as expected. In that his life was a constant illustration.

      He sat now, thinking of this life as he shook the dice in clammy hands, surrounded by other men who wondered after their own lives, all of them convening to stave off their own terrible loneliness for one night. They would listen to the rattle of the dice, the melody of their chuckling, the bawdy jokes.

      And they would pretend to be happy.

      Thus Hal would get through.

      Father Alec was witnessing a change in the Pierce household. Though it had been lively with a superficial sort of energy, he could not say his patrons were happy people. Yet when Lady Cecily came … He was under no illusions. The little baroness worked no miracles. The Pierces were still imbued with their own respective vices. Yet she infused in them a tranquility that he had not seen before. Her innocence, her trusting nature, her resilient cheer endeared her to all she encountered. Brey had a playmate, a companion, an outlet for his restlessness. Mirabella had an affable girl-child to treat as a sister and pupil, someone with whom she could tout her knowledge, someone she could nurture and lead toward her perception of Right. Lady Grace adored the girl and spent entire afternoons absorbing her serenity; she was a buffer to the antagonism experienced with her own daughter. And Lord Hal was fond of her as well; she was his hope for the future. It was from her womb that would descend all future Pierces.

      She was of no exceptional talent; she was the type who mastered all she attempted with competence. If she possessed any gift worthy of note it was in her ability to manage people. Though she was playful, she displayed no signs of being a coquette; she would not manipulate her way through life as would a woman of the court. No, it was her sweetness that won hearts. Her sweetness, her sincerity, her acquiescence, her comforting presence.

      Cecily was that rarest of things. A soul of complete integrity.

      Father Alec drank her in as well. She was as a daughter to him. Perhaps it was because the other children had living parents that inclined Father Alec to believe they needed him less. Perhaps it was that Cecily shared his acute awareness of loss. Or perhaps it was that

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