Page 19 of Her Notorious Rake
Celeste could not recall why, very likely, but Ernest had a plan ready for years now. The moment that Celeste had admitted to him she found young Lord Blakemore considerably handsome, an idea had been born. It had been so simple, and yet, elegant. And now, at last, he could put it into motion. This was the tipping point.
He squeezed his niece’s hand tightly, beaming at her. “Is he not a handsome boy?”
In the dim library, he could still see Celeste’s expression darken, as she ducked her head. “I could scarcely call him a boy, Uncle,” she whispered and then her eyes went wide. As if she’d just realized what she admitted aloud.
Ernest pulled her into a quick embrace before stepping away, grinning to himself.
“What’s so amusing, Uncle?” Celeste’s eyes narrowed.
“Nothing—nothing.” He batted away the fleeting humor. “You care for him, I can see it.” He patted her silky cheek.
“Uncle,” she sighed, but smiled regardless.
“I shall arrange it all,” he grasped her by the arms, directing her attention back to him.
Celeste shook her head. “Uncle…” but each time she spoke, he could hear the resolve in her tone weakening. Replaced by deep uncertainty, and longing.Excellent. Most excellent.
“It is in our best interest. And of course, yours. Your heart is a great concern of mine.”
Celeste wrung her hands, lowering her eyes in a refreshingshow of artful demureness. “I must beg my thanks, Uncle.”
“I love you,” he whispered, pecking her cheek with a kiss.
She whispered it back before retiring to bed. When her gentle footsteps echoed upon the nearby staircase, and when she finally disappeared, he inquired of a footman whether Mr. Dalton had taken his leave since their arrival.
“A little while ago, sir.”
Ernest nearly swore but caught himself in time. He retreated to his bedroom, sinking into one of the upholstered chairs by the big window. He sat there a good while, considering his plan. Now, all that remained would be the execution of it. Celeste was willing, and surely Dalton would be too, once he overcame his native stubbornness.
***
In a haze, Gemma entered her bedchamber, and once the door clicked shut, she leaned back against it, taking a deep breath. As she sank onto her bed, Udolpho hurried over, stretching his back legs. He’d been sleeping all evening in the center of her large bed, but she barely registered his purrs and insistent meows as he arched against her, giving her another nudge.
She perched in a big chair by the window, Udolpho curling up on her lap, and she stared up at the constellations. Cassiopeia…Cepheus.
What would Mama say of Lord Blakemore? Would she disapprove as much as Aunt Philippa did?
She tilted her head, leaning her forehead against the frosty glass. As much as Gemma appreciated Aunt Philippa’s guidance and advice, she wondered at her aunt’s declaration, calling Lord Blakemore a rake.He hardly seems like a rake…
Chapter 9
The Italian soprano’s voice floated through the room, so beautiful that Gemma’s eyes pricked with tears. When she turned her head, her eyes met Lord Blakemore’s, where he sat across the room with his mother, uncle, and distant cousin. He pulled his gaze from hers momentarily, before his gaze flickered back, his eyebrows lifting subtly.
Her face warming, Gemma ducked her head, fighting a smile of her own. Mama would be ever so jealous right now. That Gemma enjoyed a performance by a true Italian opera singer, her warbling voice dulcet and causing gooseflesh to erupt on Gemma’s skin.
At last, the performance ended, and Gemma and Aunt Philippa rose. The intercession began, and guests visited the tables laden with sweets and fruit, an orchestra playing faint music.
Prudence bustled over to Gemma, and at an approving nod from Aunt Philippa, Gemma and Prudence crossed the room to the refreshments.
Gemma’s chest squeezed when she glimpsed Lord Blakemore through the crowd, his mother holding one arm, his cousin Celeste grasping the other.
But whispering pulled her attention from the young bachelor. Bits and pieces of a conversation seamed themselves together, and Gemma’s mouth went dry as the words sank in. Their voices lifted, and Blakemore, drifting closer with his mother and cousin, could clearly hear as well. Most in Gemma’s proximity could discern the young ladies behind her tittering and murmuring about her lineage, how Aunt Philippa regarded her as a charming little companion, a mere plaything for theSeason.
Gemma’s stomach twisted, and Prudence grasped her arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Lord Blakemore extricated himself from his mother and cousin and strode over to where Prudence and Gemma stood, sipping punch.Oh, he’s coming over,Gemma’s stomach began to flutter. Lord Blakemore bowed to both Prudence and her.
“I pray you are well, Miss Hayesworth?”
