Page 106 of The Mistletoe Countess
Frederick’s attention swept directly toward his sister-in-law, who didn’t disappoint. Her dark eyes met his, and her lips curved into a smile as wicked as that of the serpent in the garden. His stomach curled. It all seemed so clear now, so obvious. The death of her first husband. The game she’d played with Frederick’s affections. Whatever scheme she concocted in his brother’s death.
Frederick forced a smile and turned to the hosts. “Lady Astley and I thank you for your generosity and kindness. And thank you all for celebrating with us this evening.”
“Take up your glasses everyone!” Lord Keriford held up his glass. “To the bride and groom.”
The room erupted in the expected echo of congratulations followed by an immediate quiet as everyone took a sip of their drinks—everyone except Celia.
Frederick and Grace mingled with some of the guests, Frederick taking the happy opportunity to introduce Grace to those living in Havensbrooke’s general vicinity.
As Celia approached through the crowd, Frederick turned to Grace.
“Will you go and speak with your aunt? Let her know we’ll be leaving as soon as dinner ends due to…” He searched for an excuse.
“My being overtired?” She shrugged, attempting to help him.
“Would anyone actually believe that, darling?”
Her eyes brightened. “Well, Iama new bride.”
Her beautiful smile drew him closer, his lips dropping to her cheek. “You are indeed.”
With a squeeze to his hand, she retreated through the crowd until she’d made it safely to her aunt’s side. Frederick’s relaxed expression hardened as he turned to the scent of lilacs and the ominous presence of Celia Blackmore Percy.
“So that is your blushing bride?” She swirled the liquid in her glass, following Frederick’s gaze across the room. “What a lovelychild.”
Even her voice lathered false. Frederick kept his expression stoic. “I hadn’t expected to see you here.”
Her dark brow angled high, fully aware of his implications at her rebellion against the social norms. “I simply couldn’t refuse an opportunity to share in the joys of my brother-in-law’s happiness after such loss.” Her lips reflected the appropriate emotion that her eyes failed to convey. “How could I stay away?”
“A handwritten note would have appealed to convention a bit more.”
She took a slow drink, biding her time. “I’ve never been fond of convention. Besides, I heard you were asking about me in London, so I thought perhaps”—her gaze trailed over him in a way he understood full well—“your sweet little American wasn’t quite up to the task.”
“Do not fear, Celia.” His gaze bore into hers. “Your very thorough lesson on the value of faithfulness and honesty has ensured my fidelity.”
“Fidelity?” The light in her eyes faded a little, but she recovered with a raised brow. “How quaint. I had wondered about the value of this unexpected marriage, but I see a quite profitable connection.”
“For me, yes.” The undercurrent in her words churned with threats. “I’m immensely grateful I hadn’t conceded my heart to a lesser woman.”
The sting hit its mark. Her stare faltered slightly, but she was quick to rally. “How is your mother?”
Frederick forced his features still. “She’s as content as she is able.”
This almost resurrected the woman’s smile. “An accurate answer, no doubt, but how is her grief? To lose a husband and son in five years’ time? There’s no wonder what sort of stories she might concoct to appease her heartache.”
“Even the most sorrow-induced stories bite with some truth.”
The hitch in her smile spoke volumes. “I wouldn’t attempt to dig too deeply, Lord Astley.”
“A threat does not become you.”
Her laugh rang false. “I don’t threaten, my dear Frederick.” She never moved her gaze from his. “But do remember, curiosity is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands.”
Her words fired a warning shot Frederick felt to the core. There was no more time to wait. Tomorrow Detective Miracle and Frederick would present their evidence to the authorities before something more sinister led to another scar on the Percy name. Or worse, on his heart. His gaze rose to find Grace.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lady Celia exceeded any expectation Grace could have envisioned for a villainess. Even her smile slid to just the right angle for deceit. She was remarkably fascinating in real life.
