Page 1 of Unraveled By the Duke
CHAPTER 1
“Do not be so ungrateful, for Heaven’s sake, Celia!” Cornelius finally exploded after spending the journey in silence.
Edna glared at him for the sudden outburst and patted Celia’s hand. Aurelia jumped, then fanned herself, taking out a cameo mirror to examine her elaborately styled hair. Only Celia remained unmoved by her father’s anger.
I must endure it, as I endured three months living with Aunt Hilda and Uncle Cuthbert at the vicarage. As I endured three months of being ignored by my father. I was foolish and reckless and brought scandal and gossip upon my family.
She gazed out the window at the steady drizzle that marred the warm July evening. The sky was overcast, which suited her mood.
“Well? Have you nothing to say?” Cornelius gruffed.
“What would you have me say, Papa?” Celia asked. “Thank you for arranging for me to marry a man older than you?”
She snapped her mouth shut around the anger that had suddenly bubbled up inside her.
I have no right! I must control myself. I must be grateful and humble.
“The eldest daughter of the eminent Earl of Scovell was caught dressed as a commoner, meeting with a lover in the back streets of London! That is what the scandal sheets have been saying. It has taken three months and a great deal of money to stamp it out. I have sued three publications, and I doubt that will be the end of it. All I ask is a show of contrition.”
“People will certainly think badly of you and us as a result,” Edna added. “People like my sister Hilda would be scandalized.”
“Only because she married a clergyman. Did you and Father not kiss before you were married?” Aurelia asked.
“That, as your mother will agree, is different,” Cornelius said, his voice softening for his younger daughter. “And no, we did not. Our marriage was arranged, and we accepted it gracefully. As Celia should.”
“Not entirely gracefully. I remember plotting to make your life a living hell for most of the first year. Until Celia was conceived anyway,” Edna said, leaning into Celia to press a kiss to her hair.
“Please do not undermine me, Edna!” Cornelius seethed.
“I was not meeting with a man,” Celia said firmly. “I merely wished to see the ordinary folk and capture their daily lives in my sketchbook. I go out and draw what I see.”
“Witnesses say—” Cornelius began.
“They lied. Lavinia lied,” Celia interrupted. “Because I saw her with a man. I drew them both. They were lovers. It was perfectly obvious just by looking at them.”
“She swore on the Bible, dear. There is no shame in being in love. Even with a man below your station. It cannot be allowed to continue, of course,” Edna said, squeezing her hand. “And your father has worked hard to secure your marriage to a decorated hero.”
Celia pulled her hand free. “I do not care what oath she swore. She lied!”
“Why would she lie?” Cornelius demanded.
“Because I saw her with a soldier—” Celia explained for the hundredth time.
Cornelius threw his hands up. “Stop! I will hear no more. We will ride in silence if you are not prepared to tell the truth.”
And so they did. For a while, at least. But then Celia could bear it no longer.
“I know that I am not innocent. That what I did was reckless and irresponsible. And for that, I am sorry. You have worked hard to secure this invitation for me, and while I feel there is a great injustice at work here…” She paused as Cornelius huffed and tutted. “I was sneaking out of the house dressed as a man. I should have known better, and will endeavor to do the right thing from now on.”
Out of London, they rode and through the village of Knightsbridge, along the Great Western Road towards Kensington and Larcher House, where they would attend the ball hosted by the Duke of Larcher—and to redeem Celia in the eyes of the ton.
Larcher House was framed by a torchlit driveway, ending in an imposing house of red brick and white stucco, with a portico entrance and a forest of chimneys atop it. A canvas awning supported by poles had been extended out from the portico to meet the carriages that were disgorging guests.
Celia tried to imagine her suitor as a strong, tall, handsome man with steel gray hair and a noble countenance. He would be hard-eyed but chivalrous. Strong but gentle. Tempered by war but softened by the experience of love and loss of it when his wife had died.
She tried to hold onto that image. As she alighted behind her mother and father, Aurelia took her arm, holding it tightly.
“Do not worry, Celia. I’m sure he will be a fine man, and you will fall head over heels for him. In lust, if not in love.” She giggled mischievously.
