Page 73 of Unraveled By the Duke
“I have not forgotten that we are supposed to visit my solicitor. I cannot think why you would wish to delay that meeting, but you seem to be intent on doing so. May I ask a question of my own? Why?”
Celia plucked at straw, her face glum. “Is it such a surprise that I wish to delay the end of our marriage? That I wish to delay your departure for Cheverton, never to be seen again? This has been… an adventure the likes of which I have not experienced in a long time. In certain ways, it is completely new to me. I… I just wanted it to last longer.”
Alexander was touched by her candor and her obvious sadness.
“I can wait for a while. Perhaps a week?” he suggested.
Celia looked at him with hope in her eyes. “A week?”
“Yes, a week in which we will do whatever you wish. Experience whatever you wish together. Then, at the end, we will review the accounts, and you will report your findings to your father.”
Alexander found himself wanting to give more. Wanted to tell her that they would not part at that point. He would not go back to Cheverton, and he certainly would not wish to never see her again. But he could not bring himself to say it.
I did not marry for love, and I do not desire it. Love is weakness, and it brings only disaster. We will enjoy play-acting as husband and wife for a week, and then it will be over.
CHAPTER 23
Celia would have had that rainy afternoon stretch into infinity. The downpour lasted for a couple of hours, but she wanted it to never stop, even if it was the start of another Great Flood.
If so, then it would be Alexander and I, adrift together on an unending sea. With no one to interfere and no one to spread rumors or gossip.
They talked little, but Celia found the silence companionable. Given the sodden state of their clothes, they sat close together for warmth, embedded in the straw. She found the heat of his body comforting, as well as his physical presence. This was a man who would always make her feel safe.
Had we met under normal circumstances, perhaps we would have become man and wife, but without any of the problems that beset us now. Without the scandal or threat of scandal. Perhaps it would have been a real marriage.
As they half lay in the shepherd’s shelter, surrounded by shifting and bleating sheep, she came to a realization.
I regret my impulsive and reckless behavior. I never have before. I see the harm it has done to me and someone I have come to care for.
There was regret in her heart now. A wish that she could go back and change her actions. But there was no point in wishing for the impossible. She could not go back in time, could not take back the mistakes of the past. And she could not force a man to love her.
I will take the time I have and enjoy it. At least I will enter my spinsterhood knowing that I have experienced the pinnacle of what a woman can experience in the arms of a man. That memory will keep me warm through many nights.
When the rain eased, she helped Alexander to his feet, and they began the long trek back up the hill. At the summit, the sound of a rapid trot reached them, and Alexander’s mount appeared through the trees, ears twitching and tail swishing.
“I knew you would come back when you recovered your senses, girl.” Alexander grinned and ran a hand down the horse’s neck.
Celia experienced an irrational frisson of jealousy. He used his good foot to vault into the saddle and then reached down for her. She took his hand and yelped when he hauled her into the air. He seated her across the saddle in front of him, his arms wrapped around her waist.
“Do not worry, you will not fall,” he assured.
“I do not worry,” Celia stated.
“Do you have any thoughts about our first activity together?” he asked.
“Yes, actually. I should like you to take me to the new National Art Collection on Pall Mall. The National Gallery, as it is being called.”
Alexander grimaced, and Celia prodded him in the chest with a finger.
“Remember our agreement, Your Grace. Besides, your stepmother is fond of art, is she not?”
“It is most likely why I am sick of it.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“It is a waste of money. My father—” Alexander suddenly clamped his mouth shut, his face hard as steel.
“Your father?” Celia prompted.
