Page 39 of Unraveled By the Duke
“Where have you been for the past three days?” Hyacinth demanded. “We thought you were spending time with your new wife, but she tells us that she has hardly seen you either!”
Alexander looked beyond her now, directly at Celia. His smile faded, and his expression darkened. Celia stared back boldly.
“I thought we had agreed that you would remain at Finsbury,” he said.
“Youdecided. I was not consulted,” Celia pointed out.
“A husband has the right to decide for his wife. A duke doubly so,” the Dowager Duchess interjected.
“I am the Duchess of Cheverton, am I not?” Celia asked.
“Of course you are. You married my brother.” Hyacinth laughed, apparently oblivious to the rising tension.
“So, I wanted to see the place and meet my new family,” Celia added.
She felt the tremor that she tried to keep from her voice. Butterflies gamboled in her stomach, partly nerves at Alexander’s reaction, partly her reaction to his proximity. Even when he was treating her coldly, she could not help herself.
“It is such a wonderful day outside. Could we give Celia a tour of the grounds?” Hyacinth asked, her face bright with excitement.
The smile that Alexander turned on her was equally as bright. Celia saw the fondness of a brother for his sister. It warmed her heart to see it.
How can he be so bad when he clearly loves his sister deeply? What I would give for such fondness instead of his strict, smothering overprotectiveness.
“Of course,” Alexander replied, his smile still in place.
He offered his arm to his sister and turned to face the door.
Hyacinth stepped away from him, though, shaking her head.
“You must escort your new wife, Alexander, not me,” she chided. “Are you going to accompany us, Mama?”
The Dowager Duchess shook her head and gave a tight smile. “I think I will remain inside for now. Perhaps I will finally finish my painting of you, Hyacinth.”
“You are a painter, Lady Violet?” Celia asked, surprised.
“It is a hobby I have cultivated for a number of years,” the Dowager Duchess replied coolly.
“Mama is very modest. I will show you her work along the east corridor on the second floor. It is decorated with her landscapes.”
“That is fascinating, Lady Violet. I have never met a fellow artist,” Celia admitted.
“You praise me beyond my accomplishments,” the Dowager Duchess insisted. “I would not say that I am an artist, merely an enthusiastic amateur.”
“As am I. It is my passion. That is why I used to sneak out of Banfield House once a month—to draw what I witnessed,” Celia said, unable to keep the enthusiasm from her voice.
“Really? Landscape or portrait?” the Dowager Duchess asked, a hint of interest flickering in her eyes.
“Oh, always people!” Celia said. “I find faces and behaviors fascinating, far more than simply places.”
The Dowager Duchess opened her mouth to speak, leaning forward in her seat and gesturing as though to emphasize a point. But then her eyes flicked to her stepson. The smile that had teased her lips promptly faded, like the sun obscured by clouds.
She sat back, folding her hands in her lap. “Where is that tea? Alexander, will you hurry it along on your way out?” she demanded, looking away towards the fireplace.
Celia felt the snub and fought to keep her expression neutral, not letting the hurt show.
Hyacinth, catching on, hurried to Celia’s side and linked their arms. “I would like to hear all about it, Celia,” she said. “My brother can wait for his turn to walk with you.”
Celia could not help but laugh at the sweet innocence that Hyacinth exuded.
