Page 43 of When her Duke Returns
“Mama?” Cecelia sighed.
Lady Stanton stared at the pair wide-eyed. “Have I acted quite the fool? The Duchesses seemed quite taken with the idea...”
“But why?Oh,whythe Carlisles?”
“What’s the matter, Poppet?” her father interjected then. “We are as steadfast with the Carlisles as ever!”
“That’s not… Oh, this is all wrong!” she cried, pushing herself away from the table and throwing her napkin atop a stand of marmalades. “It’s so terribly wrong!”
Cecelia ran from the room before Alexander could halt her. “Allow me,” he said when Sir Tristan made to follow then darted from the sunroom after her. He found the woman not long after, sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest in a darkened hallway. Her flaxen dress fell around her in a half-circle, and her face was stained red with tears.
“Go away,” she commanded though she refused to look at him. “Your Grace,” she added to attenuate her spite.
“I did not send the invite, Cecelia.”
“Does it matter? She will be here, andyouwill be here… It makes me sick to my stomach. Really, it does.”
Alexander came to a begrudging crouch before her. “Look now,” he began, angling her face up to lock their gazes. “We have not spoken of what you saw at Whitcliff beyond your vowing to keep it secret, I know. But you must believe me when I say that whatever existed between Mary and me has reached its term.”
Cecelia stared him down, and behind her eyes brewed a most terrible storm. “How can I know that for certain? How canyou?”
“She is not about, is she? If Lady Mary wished to make her feelings clear, she would not sit in promise to another. If things were to be between us, they would simplybe.”
“But you confess then that if fate were no object, you would pursue her openly? That you are with me because youmustbe! Oh, I am such a fool! Andsheis my friend! And this is all such a mess!”
“You are not a fool,” he cooed. “Do not speak of yourself in that way.”
“But I am! I thought perhaps you might like me—trulylike me! That you had asked for my hand out of affection. If that is not foolish, I do not know what is!”
“Your virtues are countless, Miss Stanton,” he said when he could think of nothing else. Her hurt was written clear across her face, and it pained him to know he could offer no truth to ease it. “Any lord would be blessed to have you accept him.”
“This is all a farce, regardless,” she muttered, her hand rolling to the floor with a thud. “You and I both know our match is senseless.”
Alexander sighed. “It is.”
“Then why go through with it?”
“Because…” Alexander began though his answer was yet unclear.
“Because your grandmother wills it. She knows of your dalliance with Mary, and our engagement only serves to further the rift between you.” Cecelia shook her head. “I may not be the daughter of an earl, but I’m not stupid.”
“I never said that.”
“But you must think it if you would drag me into this ploy!”
Alexander withdrew his hand. “Cecelia, it will not do for us to be enemies.”
“Well, it will not do for us to be wed, either, if you will never want me!” she spat then rose to her feet in a flurry.
“Where are you going?” he asked as she pushed past him. He got to his feet. “Cecelia!” he bellowed though she did not still an ounce.
* * *
“Well?” Antony snarled, his eyes dark and wide. “Will one of you say something?”
Mary looked to her brother for help, but he stood in quiet terror. She had never seen Harry look so small.
“My Lord,” Cluett began. He was a handsome young man of ten-and-nine, but he looked no more like a man than a child as he watched his Lord and employer grow wild with anger. “If you would allow me—”
