Page 97 of Unraveled By the Duke
“The injustice was all mine. I misjudged my father when I should not have judged him at all. His works will last for generations. I can only hope that Celia and I can come close to equaling him.”
Cornelius puffed out his chest, beaming with pride. “Well said. Hear, hear. Well, if your problems with that rat Grimaire persist, know that your new father-in-law is ready to assist.”
Alexander inclined his head in a grave salute.
Cornelius raised a hand to hail his wife, moving off into the crowd.
For a while, Alexander stood alone, surrounded by the glittering finery of the Cheveton ballroom, where Hyacinth had been introduced to polite society. The ton had been charmed by her. She would do well, of that he had no doubt.
“You look pensive,” Celia noted, joining him and slipping her hands around his arm.
She leaned close to him, and he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the feel of her body against his.
Her scent was intoxicating. Her dress was pretty but plain; she refused to be as gaudy as some, and he was glad. She did not need it any more than Aphrodite needed it.
“Not pensive. Just appreciating the feel of a weight lifted off my shoulders. It is done. She has been launched.”
Celia chuckled. “She is not a ship.”
“If she were, she would be the marvel of the seas. Look at her. I could not be more proud.”
“Spoken like a true father,” Celia said.
“I am not her father. I am a candle next to the sun that my father was.”
“Do not underappreciate yourself. You have overcome much for all of us.”
“There is still the matter of Nathaniel Grimaire. He intends to go through with his promise to call in my debts. He claims it is a purely commercial decision, but we both know it is revenge.Even the threat of exposing his ties to Greenwood has not deterred him. He is immune to scandal and gossip.”
Celia laughed softly, her eyes scanning the gathered guests.
Alexander looked at her askance. “I did not say I was not pensive, yet you laugh. Is my concern amusing?”
“Put your thorns away, Alexander,” Celia said. “I want to show you something.”
“We have done this before, I think. And pleasurable though it was, I do not think this is the time or place,” Alexander protested as she steered him towards the doors.
She swatted his arm. “I seem to have married a man with room in his mind for one thing only.”
“I seem to have married a woman who leaves no room in my mind for anything else.”
“We still have my challenge. If you can beat me, then the prize is yours.”
They walked out into the hall, and Celia steered him to the far wall, where many guests were standing, admiring the paintings.
“You think I will not be able to recognize my own wife dressed up as a commoner in a tavern? I will spot you the moment you walk in,” Alexander said.
“I did not say it would be in the tavern. Besides, under Maxwell’s influence, you might be cross-eyed by the time I appear.”
They stopped. On the wall hung six watercolor paintings, all depicting members of their family: Alexander, Hyacinth, Violet, Cornelius, Edna, and Aurelia. Below the paintings hung several charcoal drawings of places and ordinary people.
“Your first gallery, a wall in our own home. I admire these portraits every day, though I wish you would add yourself to this collection.”
“I cannot paint myself. I do not have that skill. Yet. The reason I brought you here is that there is another person here who admires my work. I showed him everything—the sketches, the works in progress—and he has been very enthusiastic.”
Alexander frowned. “Who?”
“The Duke of Westminster.”
