Page 37 of Unraveled By the Duke
Celia dismissed Peggy, assuring her that everything she had said would remain secret and that she was very pleased with her candor.
The relief on the old maid’s face was evident. Celia realized that Peggy had never been comfortable revealing what she knew about her master, that she was a very loyal old retainer. But equally, she could not stop herself from obeying the orders of her new mistress.
Celia made a mental note not to put Peggy on the spot again, to spare her from feeling conflicted. That was the kindest thing to do.
She sat back against the pillows and contemplated her next move. She could do precisely as Alexander wished—staying at Finsbury House meekly and quietly, not rocking the boat and not attempting to integrate herself into his family.
Something inside her refused to be meek. She had not been meek when caught sneaking out of Banfield House dressed as a man. She would not be meek now, when she had done nothing wrong.
I will not sit here in this moldering prison, waiting on Alexander’s pleasure. I will go to the big house, and I will get to know those who live there. I am, after all, the mistress of that house, and the sooner they accept that, the better.
It was not difficult to get to Cheverton, though it was located on the other side of London. Celia had grown up in the city and, in addition, was used to walking its streets.
She hailed a cab, quite comfortable doing this, and instructed the driver to take her to Cheverton Estate.
CHAPTER 12
As she sat in the back of the cab, watching London pass by, she felt apprehension at what she was planning to do.
The Dowager Duchess must be used to being the sole mistress of Cheverton Estate—second only to Alexander, of course. It was unlikely that she would take kindly to a new duchess stepping in, particularly if she had reason to doubt the character and motives of that duchess.
Had Alexander confided in his stepmother about the reasons for their marriage? If so, she would question even the validity of Celia’s new title.
Stepping out of the cab, Celia instructed the driver to seek payment from the Duke of Cheverton, giving her identity as the Duchess. She half expected to be laughed at and asked for full payment. Instead, he bowed his head and said, “Your Grace.”
Peggy had done the same, but so caught up in the mystery of Alexander and obtaining answers to her questions had Celia been that she had barely registered the honorific. Now, it hit her with full force.
Shewasa duchess by virtue of her marriage to a duke. To the world, including the driver, she was a duchess, not the daughter of an earl. Not a young woman who had disguised herself as a man and blended with the common folk of London to experience their lives.
It gave her a measure of confidence, allowing her to see herself through his eyes.
She looked at Cheverton. It was certainly grander than Banfield. She could see the original sixteenth-century architecture at the core of the house and the wings that had been added later. It was a mixture of styles, sprawling across a large area, topped with a forest of chimneys.
She approached the front door, trying not to feel so much like a visitor, and knocked with the heavy brass knocker. It was answered promptly by a tall footman who looked down his nose at her.
“I am Lady Celia Warren, the Duchess of Cheverton. Formerly Lady Celia Frid,” Celia said, trying to keep her voice firm, and lifting her chin haughtily.
The footman blinked, looking startled.
“Surely you were expecting the new mistress of Cheverton? The Duke did tell you I would be here today, no?” Celia demanded.
“He did not, Your Grace. I…” the footman stammered.
Celia stepped into the doorway, and he stepped back.
“Kindly show me to the sitting room and announce my arrival to the Dowager Duchess. Now, please,” she said imperiously.
She believed that if she did not play the Duchess from the first moment and play itconvincingly, the staff at Cheverton would doubt her, and she would be at a disadvantage with the Dowager Duchess.
I will show Alexander that I will not be discarded when he has no further use for me.
The footman turned and led her through a grand hallway with a tall ceiling and glittering crystal chandeliers. The floor was made of black and white marble squares, and the walls were white plaster. It was like stepping into a Renaissance palace.
She followed him to a sitting room, where he indicated that she should make herself comfortable.
Celia tried to do just that, though her nerves made it impossible for her to relax. It wasn’t long, however, before the door opened and the Dowager Duchess swept into the room.
Celia’s instinct was to rise, but she remembered her new title and her position in this house and stayed seated.
