Page 33 of Unraveled By the Duke
“A shame that our society insists on the consumption of wine as a sign of gentility,” Alexander said.
“A great shame,” Celia agreed. “I have at least learned to master my expression while drinking it. A wince or a grimace at the wrong moment would destroy the illusion.”
Alexander laughed and took a seat in a chaise longue that had been positioned where it would catch the warmth of the fire. He sat with one leg crossed over the other and one arm indolently laid across the back of the chaise.
Celia sat at the other end, tucking her bare feet beneath her. His laughter was free and sounded heartfelt. It put her somewhat at her ease. He may have been driven to her by drink, but if he was amenable, perhaps this would not turn into another argument.
“Do you master your expression at other times to hide your disgust? I can think of another circumstance where such mastery would be useful.”
Celia blushed, immediately catching the innuendo. “I have not, in my limited experience, had to resort to such subterfuge yet.”
She felt breathless, her heart hammering in her chest. Sensations from her dream hammered at her awareness. The feel of his body. The scent of him. The warmth of his arms. She felt something of that now.
“I am glad to hear it,” Alexander said wryly, his smile widening when she looked away. “Are you blushing now? In this light, I cannot see. Perhaps there is another way to tell.”
Without warning, he moved closer and pressed a hand to her cheek. Celia closed her eyes and involuntarily breathed him in, filling her senses with him.
I must not give too much away. It does no good to completely submit to a man with his reputation.
She opened her eyes, hoping that he had not noticed.
“Yes, quite warm, as I thought,” Alexander murmured, not removing his hand.
“May I sample more of that unpleasant beverage?” Celia asked.
Alexander laughed and handed her the bottle.
She shuddered as she swallowed the acidic, bitter concoction. Alexander took a swallow and mimicked her reaction.
“There is a curious freedom in being able to express one’s true feelings for something, is there not?” he commented.
“It is most enjoyable,” Celia agreed, taking her turn with the wine. “Was this why you came to my door this evening?”
“I came because I was drunk, which is a rare occurrence. I wanted to share it with someone, and could think of no one else whose company I wanted,” Alexander admitted.
“Surely drunkenness is a common occurrence for a rake?” Celia asked.
“Ah, but I am an uncommon sort of rake.”
“What kind of rake would that be?”
Alexander didn’t reply, but instead looked around the dark room. “I hate it in here. It has been decimated, and I cannot bear to see the gaps where priceless volumes once stood. It is like seeing empty places at the table, such as where my father used to sit. Or my mother.”
A darkness seemed to have descended upon him. He was withdrawing from her, retreating into his melancholy. Celia felt the urge to follow him, to coax him out.
She put a hand on his arm. “Then why are we sitting here? Is there not somewhere you would be more comfortable?”
She pressed her lips tightly together. In her mind, the words ‘my bedchamber’ had been loud, and she was suddenly afraid that she would speak them aloud.
“There is,” Alexander replied. “Come, I will take you there.”
He jumped to his feet and offered her his hand, holding the wine bottle in the other.
Once she took his hand, he dragged her after him. They ran through the house, Celia unable to stop the fits of laughter that the ludicrous situation drew from her.
Through the house and out of a side door they ran, then onto the grounds and beyond.
“I am barefoot!” Celia protested.
