Page 50 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“Ye surprise me,” Keith muttered, trying to look as if he wasn’t coaxing them into telling him more. “Ye’d think a lady that wild would have been promised to a man by her father some time ago.”

“She’s far too wild for that,” Philip said, shaking his head. “I would wish Grace had more proper friends, but…”

“Celia’s father does not believe in those sorts of arrangements,” the Duke of Rowley added.

Thank God.

Keith tried not to sigh aloud with relief. The thought that Celia’s bold ways would be tempered by a man someday unsettled him considerably.

“She once said that she’s too wild at heart to be shackled to a man for eternity,” Philip declared, waving a dramatic hand. “Shackled… an unpleasant way to look at marriage.”

Keith said nothing to this. Perhaps some couples could make marriage work, but he had seen firsthand how for some, marriage could indeed be shackling. It was why he would not have a wife who cared too much. He would only disappoint her. Then they’d both be imprisoned by their own misery.

“Do you reckon she’ll ever marry?” the Duke of Rowley asked, though he glanced at Keith as he said this.

Once again, Keith felt that the Duke of Rowley was rather like a hawk. Wary of the man’s perceptiveness, he kept his gaze on Philip as the man answered.

“That I do not know. Grace says Celia’s attitude to marriage has softened a little since they all got married. The question is whether any man could break down that last barrier around her, isn’t it?”

“Ye’ll need a man who likes to get his hand burned,” Keith pointed out.

Philip smiled, though Keith had truly meant it. Any man who tried to marry Celia would surely see an argument for it.

That is why she hates what we did… She sees it as a weakness, giving in to pleasure.

To his mind, though, it was no weakness, and he had every intention of showing Celia if he had the chance that passion wasn’t weak. Passion could be everything, even if it was something they could only indulge in on occasion.

“We’ll see you in London then?” the Duke of Rowley asked.

“Aye, London.” Keith nodded.

“Who knows,” the Duke of Rowley said conversationally to Philip as the two walked away. “Maybe this is the Season where Lady Celia will marry, after all.”

A mad idea came to Keith’s mind, of him standing at the altar and Celia walking toward him. She wouldn’t wear white or any other pastel colors. No, she’d wear something bold and unorthodox, something so captivating that he’d find it quite impossible not to look at her. And then he’d plunge his hands into that tumble of red curls and…

No.For her own safety, I am not the man for her to marry.

“Celia?” Marianne’s voice called from the doorway.

It had been two days since they had returned from Lady Arundel’s, and already Celia was used to hearing her mother’s voice calling to her with the same unease and tension.

Celia hesitated as her maid finished pinning her hair. It was the same uneasy tone Marianne always used these days when she came to wave Celia off on her evenings out.

“Thank you,” Celia whispered to her maid. “I’ll be fine from here.”

The maid smiled and left swiftly, clearly sensing that she did not want to be present for what would probably be an uncomfortable conversation.

“You are going to the opera? Again?” Marianne asked.

She walked into the room and appeared behind Celia in the vanity mirror. She pressed her lips together, her anxiety palpable. She looked so much like Violet that sometimes Celia had to glance at her twice. Yet, in character, they were very different.

“The opera is a fine pastime, Mama,” Celia reminded her. “You used to like it yourself. There is nothing scandalous about it?—”

“Being friends with the opera singer is something of a scandal,” Marianne said tightly. She tried to adjust some of Celia’s locks, but Celia leaned forward, just managing to avoid it.

She couldn’t remember Marianne fussing over Violet’s hair anywhere near so much as she fussed over Celia’s. Then again, Violet was not the disappointment that Celia was. Even though Violet had married rather quickly to avoid a scandal, she was still the married daughter and the younger. That meant, as far as Marianne was concerned, Violet was the golden child.

“There is nothing wrong with having friends in walks of life other than your own.” Celia tried to keep her voice soft as she stood up. “She’s a good woman, Mama.”

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