Page 15 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
“Go up to the parlor now, and tell Lord Montford you’ll join the marchioness presently.” Her father folded his arms across his broad chest, the sign that the argument was settled—in his favor, as usual.
The very thing that had ensured Ned Kilburn’s financial success was the same quality that made it impossible for Celeste to deny her father’s command. Besides, Da and Dom were counting on her to keep their family circulating through the highest ranks of Society. Declining Lady Stretton’s invitation might insult both the marchioness and Lord Montford, imperiling the Kilburns’ standing and dashing her father’s hopes, when he’d done and given up so much for her and her brother.
The entryway of their home in Hans Town could contain their old room in Ratcliff. There were parlors and chambers she never used, and spare bedrooms that no one slept in. And yet, for all the size of this house, the walls now loomed close and it felt impossibly cramped.
“Yes, Da,” she said at last.
His dark expression cleared, and he beamed fondly at her as he patted her cheek. “There’s my Star. I’m back to my offices, but I’ll see you for supper tonight.”
Before she could say anything more, he strode away.
She turned to the mirror hanging in the foyer and smoothed her hair, trying to make herself look as composed and flawless as her father wanted. Her locks always were a little unruly, which was why Dolly had to use fistfuls of pins to keep everything straight and tidy, the hair of a perfectly respectable young lady.
On their own, the pins didn’t weigh very much, but when employed en masse, they were impossibly heavy. Her scalp ached every night when Dolly slid them from her hair, and never fully recovered by the morning when it was time to put them back into place.
A smiling, familiar face appeared behind her, and she made herself smile in return as she turned to face Lord Montford.
He was a tall man, and she had to tip her head back slightly to look into his blue eyes. There were small lines around those eyes, as befitting someone who spent a goodly amount of time in Rotten Row on the back of a horse, or shooting the birds beaters scared from hedgerows. In truth, Lord Montfordwasan attractive man beyond his fortune and title, yet her heart didn’t speed up whenever he was near. He never gave her the roguish grins or winks that came so easily to Kieran Ransome, the ones that made her fluttery and warm.
“Forgive me for not waiting for you in the parlor,” he said with the smallest of bows.
She curtseyed. “I was on my way to join you, my lord.”
“I keep insisting you call me Hugh, Celeste.” He chuckled indulgently. “After all, you’re almost my wife.”
We’re not even engaged, she thought with annoyance.
“However,” he continued, “I grew impatient to pass on my mother’s generous invitation. I know that you typically do charity work on Tuesdays after your shopping, but of course you’ll join Mother and myself since she’s most eager for you to try her cook’s recipe for lemon biscuits.”
“Surely her opinion on the matter of her vases carries more weight than mine,” Celeste objected.
“She’s always eager to guide you in matters of connoisseurship and taste,” he said warmly. As if bestowing a great compliment, he added, “Mother sees your potential and would hate for you to waste it.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.Celeste opened her mouth to tell Lord Montford what she’d like to do with herpotential, but how could she, when her father had made it quite clear how critical it was to maintain cordial relations with the earl.
She fought to inhale, but the cage around her chest made it almost impossible to breathe. Everything pressed in on her, smothering her, and there was nowhere to run, no means to keep herself from being crushed. In the end, shewouldbe pulverized, as her father and Lord Montford gathered aroundthe dust of her remains to congratulate themselves on their accomplishments.
There had to be some way out. Some means of relief—even if it was only temporary.
“I’ll have my carriage brought around,” he said, “to convey you to my home.”
“Very kind of you.” Evidently, there was no concern that Celeste might refuse.
His responding smile made it clear that he, too, thought he was being very kind.
Dolly approached with her bonnet and gloves, clearly having eavesdropped on the conversation between Celeste and her father. As Celeste donned the items, she kept her expression mild and pleasant while her mind spun.
Once she returned home from tea with Lady Stretton, she would write Kieran Ransome with instructions as to where and when to meet.
The scoundrel wanted her for her spotless reputation, and nothing more. But perhaps... just perhaps... he might have something thatshewanted...
Chapter 4
Kieran eased past the queue of people outside Catton’s bakery, and he couldn’t be certain whether or not their astounded looks in his direction were because the customers believed him to be cutting the line, or because Kieran Ransome was rarely seen in such an upstanding, sanctioned place.
He paused just inside the threshold of the famed pastry shop, next to the sign that proclaimed that all sugar used in the production of its cakes and biscuits was exclusively grown by free men. The air was laden with vanilla, butter, and the aforementioned sugar, but equally thick in the atmosphere was women’s chatter. To be sure, there were some men enjoying a pot of tea and some iced cakes, but largely the patrons of Isabel Catton’s shop were female.
Kieran recognized some of the women—young widows and more adventurous married ladies—yet many of them were unknown to him, which was precisely his dilemma.
