Page 7 of Unraveled By the Duke
You would ruin a perfectly good reputation, though.
They raced up a staircase and along a passageway, then up another short flight of stairs before Lavinia opened a door and ushered Celia inside.
They were in a sitting room, a fire crackling merrily in a stone fireplace. Lavinia crossed the room and tried a door in the far corner, which turned out to be locked.
“Well, I did not expect her bedchamber to be locked. That is where her wardrobe is. But I spy a jug of water over there. That will do to try and blot the wine stains, and then we can dry it in front of the fire. Meanwhile, I will go and find Bethany and ask for the key so you can change your clothes.”
Celia unbuttoned her dress, keen to stop the permanent ruination she knew was progressing second by second. Lavinia fetched the jug and laid out the dress in front of the fire, applying water liberally to the stains before blotting them with a handkerchief.
“Lavinia, why are you doing this?” Celia asked. “We have never been close friends, and while I can believe you spilling a drink onmy dress, this… helpfulness is somewhat out of character. I try and see the best in people always, but…”
Lavinia looked stricken, and Celia regretted her words.
There is good in everybody. Perhaps I misjudged her, and the gossip she spread about me was something she did out of pure panic.
She crouched beside Lavinia and took her hands. “I can see from your face that I was wrong. I am sorry, Lavinia. I hope I did not…”
But the look of anguish was gone, and a smile was spreading across Lavinia’s face that Celia did not like.
Lavinia was looking over Celia’s shoulder. It was then that Celia heard the creak of the door. She turned and saw Captain Greenwood slipping inside and closing it behind him.
Celia was suddenly hyper aware that she was only wearing her shift, practically naked, before a man who now wore a lascivious smile. She yelped as she leaped to her feet and looked around the room for anything to cover herself.
Lavinia stood up slowly, brushing her skirts and tossing the damp handkerchief into the fire.
“What do you want with me?” Celia stammered.
“Your silence,” Lavinia said.
“That picture you drew of me,” Captain Greenwood added.
“I thought you said I was mistaken,” Celia reminded him.
“We both know that you were not,” Captain Greenwood drawled. “But we cannot afford a scandal or even to be associated with each other. That is why I did not leave the ball with you.”
“I don’t have it with me,” Celia said, backing up towards the door in the corner of the room.
“Where is it? At Banfield House?” Lavinia asked.
“No,” Celia uttered.
In truth, she was not sure. She had dozens of drawings—perhaps hundreds.
“I do not think she realizes how serious I am,” Captain Greenwood said quietly. “I’m sure I can persuade her to tell me so that you can use your newfound position as friend of the family to go and get it. Step outside and keep watch.”
Lavinia cast a cool, appraising gaze over them both. Then, she nodded. Celia’s blood turned to ice at the gesture. There was a finality to it, a washing of hands.
What does he intend to do?
She felt the hard metal of a doorknob against her hands and gripped it, turning it. Captain Greenwood lunged for her, and she yanked the door open and dashed outside, slamming it shut. She found herself in another hallway, lit only by the moonlight streaming through bare windows.
She ran past two doors, making for a door at the end of the hall under which she could see a sliver of golden light.
If there is someone inside, then I am safe. Please let there be someone inside!
She pulled open the door and raced inside.
The room was empty. A fire had been lit, and a lamp sat on the mantelpiece. But there was no sign of anyone.
