Page 53 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
“If someone else came along before that,” she ventured. “With not so great a rank, perhaps, but of a good family and with excellent connections...”
“Are you encouraging other suitors?” Her father’s look was thunderous. Before she could answer, hesaid firmly, “You are promised to Lord Montford. It’s as good as done—and if you think throwing him over in favor of someyounger sonwill sit well with him, you’re mistaken, my gel. Sorely mistaken. He’ll call you a flirt and a jilt, and then the Kilburns won’t be accepted in any stable let alone drawing room in Mayfair.”
“It all rests on me,” she said, grim. The weight of her burden pressed down on her, stealing her breath, robbing her of strength.
Her father’s fingers wrapped around hers, and she looked up into his face. His expression was resolute, but not entirely unkind.
“It’ll be a good life, Star,” he said earnestly. “I vow to you, you’ll want for nothing.”
What about having purpose? What about affection and companionship and understanding?
But she said none of this. Instead, she fabricated a smile and sipped at her tea when he released her hand so he could continue to read his morning papers. Eventually, he finished his coffee and stood from the table.
“Be good, my girl.” He dropped a kiss to her forehead before quitting the dining room.
She sat alone, her tea growing cold. The weariness she hadn’t been able to find earlier now weighted down her bones. Perhaps she could simply lay her head down on the table and fall asleep here and now. But sleep wouldn’t take away the fact that she had no choice in how the rest of her life was to play out. Her fate was settled, and that fate included nothing she wanted for herself.
She was too tired to even feel the urge to runaway. Instead, she slumped in her seat and looked out the window, hardly noting that fine rain pelted the glass.
The footman appeared, carrying a silver tray bearing a letter.
“This came for you, miss,” he murmured. “The messenger said he’d wait for a reply.”
“Thank you, Charles.” It was still very early, so whoever had written the correspondence had either done so late last night, or first thing this morning. Perhaps it was Rosalind.
After she unfolded the paper and scanned the handwriting, her heart leapt, and her weariness was forgotten.
Couldn’t wait. Meet this morning at 9? I flatter myself that my charm will override the importunity.
There was no signature, yet she knew at once who’d written it. She smoothed her thumb across the words.
“Tell the messenger that I shall be there,” she said to Charles as he impassively awaited her response. “And give him a shilling for his trouble. I’ll repay you after breakfast.”
“Yes, miss.” The footman bowed before departing the chamber.
Celeste made herself eat her toast, then finished her tea quickly. Wherever Kieran intended to take her, it would be ill-advised for her to journey there on an empty stomach. When she’d finished her breakfast, she took the stairs two at a time—fortunately, Da had gone, so he couldn’t scold her for such unladylike behavior—and went to her room.
She rang for Dolly, who appeared a minute later, dressed but rubbing her eyes.
“We’re meeting Mr. Ransome at nine this morning,” Celeste said without preamble.
“Cor,” her maid mumbled. “Nobody’s about at nine.”
Celeste’s exhaustion was gone. Effervescent excitement took its place as she strode to her wardrobe and threw it open, in search of her oldest and least ostentatious dress. “Today, we are.”
The hour was unfashionable and the weather inclement enough that no one was about when she met Kieran at their usual rendezvous spot.
She tried not to feel a burst of pleasure to see him loitering on the street corner, leaning against a lamppost, but her heart didn’t listen, and so she was wreathed in smiles when she and Dolly approached him. He wore clothing in subdued shades of dun and brown, the fabric more serviceable than modish, yet he still looked exceptionally handsome as he straightened when she drew closer.
Only a few hours earlier, he’d been pleasuring her in an alcove, and she’d loved every moment of it. Now here he was, in the daylight, just as sinful as he’d been when he’d licked her essence off his fingers. He’d said they couldn’t dally with each other again, but perhaps he might be convinced otherwise.
“Where we’re going isn’t half as salacious as what you’re picturing.” He grinned wickedly, then laughed. “The look of disappointment on your face.”
“I hope I’ll find today’s outing worth it,” she said, taking refuge in a lofty tone rather than admit that she truly did wish for a repeat performance. How shameless she’d become. And how she adored it.
“That’s my hope, as well.” He glanced up and down the street to make certain it was mostly empty of anyone who might see them, before helping her and Dolly into a waiting cab. As they pulled away from the curb, he said, “I shan’t say where we’re going, but it might become evident in due time.”
Curious, she kept her attention focused out the cab’s window as they journeyed east. By and by, the buildings grew closer together, their facades older and more careworn. The people on the streets likewise grew more numerous, and their clothing and accents struck a familiar chord within her. When the sharp smell of the river reached her, she sat up straighter.
