Page 14 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
And now here was Kieran Ransome, with a proposition that was unfortunately the opposite of scandalous. She might as well be a lamppost or a bedside ewer, an object that fulfilled a purpose—but no one ever thought about what the lamppost or ewer desired for itself.
She did her best to put the encounter with Kieran Ransome from her mind as she finished her fitting at Madame Jacqueline’s before heading home, as she always did after her usual shopping outings. At the least, after luncheon she would be able to spend several hours sorting clothing for an upcoming charity bazaar.That, in any case, was a worthwhile task.
Moments after she stepped into the foyer and handed Dolly her bonnet and gloves, her father approached.
“Showing them toffs we got as much blunt as they do.” He nodded with approval at her footman laden with packages.
“How unexpected to see you home.” She lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You’re usually at your offices at this hour.”
Would her father know that she’d just been ensconced in a fitting room with Kieran Ransome? It wasn’t as though there was a scarlet handprint on her breast.
Even though Kieran hadn’t touched her bosom, she glanced down just to be certain there was notelltale mark that she’d spent a good ten minutes completely alone with London’s most notorious rake.
No sign of his presence was left on her—thank goodness.
“Came by to pick up a few papers,” her father answered. “A good thing, too, because I met Lord Montford at our door. He’s waiting in the parlor.”
“Lord Montford?” She blinked. “The earl usually calls on Wednesdays.”
“His mother wanted you to come for tea today and try her cook’s new recipe for iced biscuits.” Her father chuckled. “Look at us now, eh? A marchioness impulsively inviting you over for tea like you were already part of the family.”
“But... but...” Celeste frowned at this unwelcome news. “I’m supposed to head to the meeting hall and help sort clothing for next month’s charity bazaar. I’ll have to tell Lord Montford to send my regrets.”
Her father’s smug expression dropped away, and he appeared confounded. In a low, angry voice he hissed, “Do you think invitations from marchionesses are thick on the ground like fallen leaves? That they mean so little to people like us that we can shove them aside?”
People like us.Poverty and hard work, versus inherited wealth and privilege. It always came down to that, didn’t it?
“Lady Stretton will understand.” Celeste patted her father’s hand, but he snatched it away from her.
He held up a warning finger. “Listen, my girl. Our reputation in Society is already precarious. Dom’smarriage to an earl’s daughter would have gained us more security, but that’s thrown into the rubbish. It’s a dangerous waltz we dance with the ton, andyou’rethe Kilburn everyone sees on the dance floor. Being engaged to Lord Montford protects us—”
“Not officially,” Celeste corrected, but that wasn’t the right thing to say, because her father’s face darkened.
“Officially unofficially engaged,” he snapped. “Lord Montford told me just now that he plans on proposing just before the Season ends.”
Something invisible wrapped around Celeste’s throat and tightened. The end of the Season was less than two months away, and her acceptance of Lord Montford’s suit was clearly a foregone conclusion. It didn’t matter whatshewanted for herself. It never did.
“Think of the honor, my girl,” her father added. “He’stheone every grasping mama wants for her daughter. And if you don’t land him now, be assured there are dozens of chits ready to wed him.”
When Celeste still didn’t speak, her father leaned close. “All the sacrifices I made, working twenty hours a day, even on Sundays, hardly seeing your mother and you kids, the deals I made to fight my way to the top and send you to finishing school and buy this fine house—it was all forthis. Foryou.”
“Isit for me?” she asked plaintively.
Her father’s brows drew into a heavy vee. “Think of it, gel. You’d be a countess, and then a marchioness. The girl who sewed fancy ladies’ petticoats wouldn’t have to lift a finger for the rest of her life. That’s what I want for you.” His voice thickened. “I remember howI’d come home after midnight and you’d be curled up on that tiny pallet on the floor, and I’d brush your hair out of your face and pray to whoever was in charge of such things that one day, you’d have a decent bed with clean sheets and you’d be just as fine a lady as those women you sewed petticoats for. And that’s almost here, gel. It’s almost yours.”
Celeste swallowed around the edges of whatever had lodged in her throat. She was an ingrate, surely, to desire more for herself than endless leisure. It beckoned to her now, that perpetual ease and privilege. In less than two months’ time, her path would be set forever, and that’s what she was supposed to seek. Wasn’t it?
Whatever she desired for herself, that didn’t signify. Once her father had made his fortune, her path had been set, and there was no straying from it, no matter what other roads she wanted to take. She was like a blinkered carriage horse, except she could just glimpse possibility beyond the blinders—which made it all the harder to relentlessly plod forward, driven onward by her father’s doggedness to gain the ton’s acceptance.
“I’ll meet Lord Montford in the parlor,” she said, attempting to sound pleased rather than resigned. “I’ll tell him how honored I am by the invitation, and if his mother wouldn’t mind postponing our tea until tomorrow so I may attend to my duties for the charity bazaar.”
“You’llacceptthe marchioness’s invitation,” her father corrected. “The charity bazaar can wait.”
“Da.” She took a deep breath, fighting to keep hertone even. “When I wanted to establish a foundation that helped the people of Ratcliff, you said no—”
“We don’t need any association with that place,” he answered tightly. “It’s our past, but we’re looking to the future.”
“At the least, let me go today and do the work I promised.” She inhaled as she battled frustration. It had been a bitter disappointment to abandon her hopes to assist the families of her old neighborhood, yet she’d done so, burying her own ambition to help her family.
