Page 13 of Unraveled By the Duke
Celia threw her hands up in exasperation, even as she noticed how his face transformed when he smiled. Even in the darkness, she could see how those hard lines melted away and how his cold, aloof eyes warmed with mirth.
“You have caused me enough trouble already…” Celia began.
“Ihave caused you? That is rich, Lady Celia. It is you who have caused the trouble and I who has the solution. The only solution to this situation. But your father will not see me, and you will not let me in. It is as though your family likes scandal.”
“Of course, we do not like scandal. Do you think I asked to be locked away by my father, lest I bring further disgrace to my name?” Celia scoffed, incredulous.
“Then discuss it with me while shouting through a window, or let me in to discuss the situation like adults.” Alexander ran his hands through his long hair, looking at the sky in exasperation.
Celia rested her head on her hands atop the windowsill. What he was saying made sense.
But he is a rake and a scoundrel. That is what Aurelia has heard of him. Even I know the name, and I pay no attention to gossip columns.
“I cannot—” she began.
“For God’s Sake, woman!” Alexander roared.
“I cannot because I do not have the key!” Celia spoke over him.
Alexander stopped, gaping at her for a moment. “You are locked away. Literally.”
Humiliated, Celia nodded silently.
Alexander looked up at the window, his eyes narrowed. Then, he started forward, seized a handful of climbing ivy, and hauled himself up the wall.
Celia stepped back, at a loss for words as he drew closer. When he reached the window, he vaulted the sill and landed, catlike, on the floor inside. Celia backed away, tugging a blanket from the bed and wrapping herself in it.
Alexander straightened, looking around. “This looks like a nun’s cell. Or a servant’s room.”
“The second,” Celia replied. “These used to be the servants’ quarters.”
“And your father has imprisoned you in this derelict building because of what happened at the Larcher ball?”
“And another matter,” Celia said quietly.
She felt intimidated by his physical presence in the small room. He tossed his head, and his hair brushed his shoulders.
A barbarian prince. Strong, unyielding as stone, and primitive as a pagan.
She knew she should demand that he leave until she was decent. Should not be alone with him at night in her bedroom. But at that moment, she didn’t care.
Her heart was racing. He was infuriating and exciting in equal measure. Frightening and thrilling. She hoped that the dark didn’t reveal the heat she felt in her face and that the blanket was enough to conceal the tremors in her knees.
“And that is?” he prompted.
So arrogant. As though he deserves an answer. He needs to learn that he does not get answers by demanding.
“That is my business. I do not see what value the information can be to you,” Celia said coolly.
“Very well. You want to be out of this damned, damp house?”
Celia nodded.
“You want to preserve your family’s name?”
“Of course. What are you proposing?” Celia asked impatiently.
“Marriage. The only respectable solution. If we marry, then the scandal will die out in a short time without the additional speculation and gossip. If we are married, there is no chance of eloping or having relations out of wedlock. Therefore, there is no scandal. Marry me, Lady Celia, and save yourself and your family.”
