Page 102 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

Keith was exhausted as he raced through London. This was already his third horse, for he’d stopped and paid for a fresh horse at each inn he had passed in order to keep up the pace. It was early evening, the orange light of the sunset streaking across the London rooftops as he approached his home.

He knew he was mad. He even knew it would take a lot for Celia to consider taking him back, but what else was he supposed todo? That lady in the inn was right—who wants to live forever with a broken heart when he had the power to make them both happy?

He steered the horse up the road, listening as it whinnied in objection, though it still obeyed him, turning toward his house. The gates were oddly open. He would have thought at this time of day they would be closed. Glancing back repeatedly at the open gates, he raced down the drive.

Outside of the front door, a carriage had been prepared. It was one of the lighter and faster models, and on the back, cases had been strapped down.

Who has come to the house?

He brought the horse to a halt beside the carriage as he realized that the carriage was, in fact, one of his own. He jumped off the horse, breathing heavily as he threw his frock coat on the ground. He was sweating from having ridden so hard for so long.

He wiped his brow and turned around sharply, looking for Celia and for a reason as to why this carriage had been prepared.

“All is prepared, Your Grace,” the housekeeper’s voice called from the doorway.

“Thank you.” Celia suddenly appeared.

She marched out of the house, dressed in a gown and pelisse, though it fluttered in the wind. She didn’t even flinch at that strong gust but pushed on, hurrying toward the carriage.

She was beautiful, her red hair barely contained by her updo. There was a fierceness in her expression, suggesting that wherever she was going, she was making this journey with determination.

A footman followed her out of the house, and she issued hurried instructions to him.

“We’ll depart at once,” Celia pleaded. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” He nodded and ran off, presumably to collect the driver.

She can’t stay? Is my home so awful to her now?

Keith felt like he had been kicked in the gut. He suddenly realized just how much it must have hurt her when he had left. It was this agony, this feeling that nothing could be right again in the world if she got in that carriage and rode away.

She reached for the carriage door, flinging it open. In her haste, it bounced off the wall, though she barely flinched in acknowledgment of the loud sound.

“Celia?” Keith called to her.

As she reached the bottom step, she spun around fast. The alarm on her face was obvious, her eyes wide. She even dropped her reticule, the material falling to the gravel with a soft thud.

As they stared at one another, Keith took in the sight of the carriage once again. There were so many cases strapped down to it that they had to be holding most of her clothes. He realized with horror where she was going.

“Ye were leaving? For good?”

CHAPTER 29

Celia stood there, feeling completely numb.

He’s here.

She thought it had to be a dream. He’d gone off to Scotland. How could he be standing before her now as a light, misty rain began?

“You can’t be here. You went to Scotland.”

“I came back.” He walked toward her.

Celia actually took a step back in alarm, one of her hands gripping the door of the carriage.

This is not possible.

“It’s me, Celia. I’m really here,” he said in that familiar baritone that she had missed so much. “Ye were leaving me? For good?” He gestured to the bags at the back of the carriage.

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