Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As soon as Sylvia had left for Mayfair for the second time in two weeks, Celestina had deflated. She only prayed her maid's endeavours would be fruitful.

Already, she had saved a small amount—no more than a hundred pounds or so—from the sale of the Wedgewood and the Gainsborough, but she needed more to ensure Sylvia and herself survived. She was so grateful to her for staying and appreciated the company as much as anything else, but she likewise realized that having an extra mouth to feed was a burden.

She curled her feet under her on the sofa and stared out the window, the book on her lap unread. She couldn't focus on the words enough to take any of it in, so she simply watched the world go by outside. They were lucky enough to have a small garden with a few trees and a little path that wound to the door from the road. Celestina had always loved it—and she'd tended it often enough, even though David had told her that was the gardener's job.

As she stared at it now, she felt the familiar pang of grief and regret. She would have given almost anything to stay here—it had become her home more than any other—but she knew that wasn't possible. But she wouldn't give in to Richard's offer. She wouldn't take handouts from anyone, and least of all him. It felt wrong. It felt unfair. Like she was taking advantage of an old friend.

And I must protect my heart.

The fall of their friendship hadn't been his fault. She should have made her feelings known all that time ago. But her parents would never have forgiven her, and her path in life had already been laid. The route planned out.

But oh, how life could have been different. She smiled as she watched the leaves dance in the breeze on the lawn, thinking of how light and happy she might have felt with Richard on her arm.

It was all over, of course. She no longer felt any romance for him, nor would she. But it was enjoyable to dream sometimes and dream she did. Of Richard. And them together, maybe with a young family. She would be Duchess, lady of the house.

I wouldn't have to worry about money then.

But it couldn't happen. It wouldn't. She wouldn't put herself in that position and knew Richard would never accept her terms. She let herself chuckle at the memory of his expression when those words had first slipped out of her mouth.

The only form of assistance I will accept is employment.

She hadn't meant to say it. Indeed, she hadn't even thought about it until that moment. But even when she said it, she hadn't expected him even to consider it. It didn't suit his personality. He was magnanimous by nature, and he would think giving her employment was taking advantage of her.

Still, the thought had been nice for a while. If she couldn't be Duchess, then at least she could live in a grand house, comfortable with warmth and food and perhaps a little pocket change for a trinket at the market or some such.

Dusk was beginning to fall, the blue sky tinged with reds and oranges. Celestina got up from her seat and wandered over to the window, looking down the road in both directions for any sign of Sylvia. She was late.

"Where on earth have you got to?" she muttered.

Just then, a knock came on the front door, so loud and insistent that Celestine jumped. She glanced at the door, terrified that it was Edward Willoughby again. He wouldn't leave her alone no matter what she told him, and she had yet to receive today's visit.

She snuck closer to the window and peered out, then exhaled with relief. It wasn't Edward. It was Richard. She made her way through the house and opened the door.

"I accept your terms," he said before even greeting her. Before she even had the door fully open.

Celestina blinked. "Good evening. I'm afraid I'm alone, and it would be improper to invite you in but … what did you say?"

Surely not?

"I quite understand," he said firmly. "I wouldn't want you to fall prey to even more gossip. But I wanted to tell you that I have considered what you said the other day and accepted your terms. I'd like to also say quite plainly that I don't agree with them—but I know you are a stubborn mule when you want to be, so I accept them."

She blinked again, opening the door fully in total surprise. "Did you just call me a mule, Your Grace?"

His serious face broke into a snigger. "Yes, I suppose I did. I'm sorry about that. I don't think you're mule-like in the slightest. Except maybe in your stubbornness, of course."

Celestina's smile grew, too, and she looked at him sheepishly from beneath her lashes. "Well, that's good. I've often been concerned with how mule-like I am."

The pair looked into each other's eyes for a moment, amusement dancing between them. She'd forgotten how his silly words and turns of phrase used to have her giggling all day. Richard always had a habit of speaking without thinking, and that often had hilarious results.

"Now that we've got that silliness out of the way," he said without pulling his eyes away. "Perhaps you'd like to hear what I've got to say."

She looked back at him, feeling herself fall into his eyes. She'd forgotten that, too, just how intense his gaze could be. The way it felt like he could see into her very soul, and that he cherished what he found there.

She quickly pulled her eyes away, refusing to allow herself to think like that. She'd obviously become far too caught up in the fancy of the afternoon, reality slipping away from her. She cleared her throat.

"Yes, of course."

"I will accept your terms. I will employ you as an assistant housekeeper. You will receive bed and board, plus a small wage. You will get one day a week off—to be arranged with the housekeeper." Celestina went to speak, but Richard continued, not allowing her to get a word in. " And I will find employment for your lady's maid, though it obviously won't be in the same capacity."

Celestina opened her mouth again, and though Richard had stopped speaking, she found herself quite unable to find any words.

"I … Goodness!"

"Your rooms are being prepared as we speak, and the rest of the staff have been informed. Good evening, by the way. I realize I have not yet greeted you."

She stared at him with her mouth still open, and then, without warning, she burst into laughter.

"Good Lord, I'm sorry, Richard. I just … goodness. That was quite the speech. Do you really mean it? I didn't think you'd agree."

"Of course I mean it," he replied. "I wouldn't say it otherwise."

"I must say I'm rather surprised."

"But you haven't changed your mind?" he asked, a flash of concern in his eyes. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? I don't like it, but if it gets you—"

"No," she said firmly and quietly. "I haven't changed my mind, and I am extremely grateful to you for respecting my wishes, Richard. You know I could never accept your help without something like this in return."

"I understand. I'd wager I'd be the same if our roles were reversed. But though we lost our friendship for some years, Celestina, you have always been and will always be important to me."

Celestina's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching. Though she had no interest in pursuing anything further—she was over all that, surely—she couldn't help being overjoyed at hearing those words come out of his mouth.

"I appreciate you saying that," she said, though her voice was hoarse with emotion.

She wished she could let her guard down and tell him just how much. She wished she could express everything she felt, except even she didn't know what she felt. There were no words for it. Just vague emotions that escaped her whenever she tried to pin them down.

"You are aware of how this will look amongst the ton ? The things they'll say?" he said tentatively.

Celestina felt the lump in her throat again. She understood everything perfectly well, but she also knew that she had no choice. With a hand to her throat, she nodded.

"The gossip is already there, Richard," she said. "They're already talking about me."

"Yes, but this is quite the step down. Are you absolutely, one hundred per cent certain?" he asked softly.

She paused again, swallowing back her emotion, and then she nodded. "I'm certain."

"Good. Then I have just one requirement."

His tone turned officious, businesslike, but even within that, she could see his gentle softness, his kind heart. The concern that swelled in his heart for her.

"Very well," she replied, uncertain now. Hesitant. Worried she'd made a terrible mistake by even suggesting he employ her in the first place. Perhaps it would have been better to put distance between them rather than tie them more closely together. She couldn't—wouldn't—allow her old feelings to surface again.

"You are to move into my home immediately. With Miss Taylor, naturally."

"You remembered her name," Celestina said in surprise. It was so rare for a gentleman to recall the names of their own maids, let alone other people's maids they'd met only briefly.

"Of course I did. She is important to you and, therefore, to me. Besides, I am grateful to her for staying with you. It is rare to find such a loyal servant these days."

Celestina swallowed back her emotions, her belly fluttering. This boy she had known for her entire life and the man he had become—he was her closest friend and yet a complete stranger. And even after all they had been through, he showed her concern and kindness. How could she ever refuse him anything? How could she ever repay him?

She raised a hand to her neck, but when she went to speak, the words choked in her throat.

"I will not take no for an answer this time, Celestina," he said with such an authoritative tone that, once again, her breath was lost to her. "Do you understand me?"

She paused for a moment, panic and anxiety washing through her, but then she smiled. She had no other choice, and even if she did, she wasn't sure she could ever say no to a man like Richard Kinglsey. Not after everything.

"I suppose I ought to pack then."

He nodded. "Good. I'll be here first thing in the morning to collect you and your belongings. I can send people to deal with whatever is left in the house after that."

Celestina felt in a dreamlike state. She couldn't quite believe what he was saying. When they were children, it was always her who led their adventures. Always her who pushed them into trying new things. How the roles had changed, and how she liked it.

She smiled at him. He looked at her with such intense concern and feeling over the doorstep, and it was a look she remembered well. It was a look that, one time, long, long ago, she had fallen in love with.