Chapter 20

Chapter 20

As the weeks passed, Richard visited Celestina in the orangery more and more. It quickly became his most treasured part of the day, so much so that he had neglected other parts of his life. He had clean forgotten he had a meeting with a tenant the day before, only to be reminded when Beaumont found him deep in conversation with Celestina. And he'd forgone a number of social occasions, too.

His feelings of love were growing again, but this time, he made no effort to stop them. Rather, he embraced them. He allowed the other areas of his life to suffer because he simply couldn't bear to miss his special time with Celestina.

It meant too much to him, and he'd found himself drifting closer to her within the confines of the orangery. Where before he would remain at a respectable distance, now he brushed his hand against hers whenever he could, enjoying the sensation of being so close to her.

Now, as the morning sun poured through the bay window, Richard settled himself at the breakfast table, tucking a napkin into the collar of his shirt, then reaching for the toast and marmalade.

The breakfast feast had always been his favourite of the day, and today was no different. There were eggs, ham, bread, and cheese. And, of course, a large pot of tea. Today was going to be another wonderful day, and not least because he knew he could go to the orangery again.

"Good morning," his mother said as she entered the room.

"Morning, Mother," he responded, though he didn't look up at her. If he had done, he would have noticed the scowl she wore and would have been better prepared for the reprimand that was to come.

"Yes, you're right," she said, roughly pulling out the dining chair and landing heavily within it. "There is nothing good about it."

Richard looked up sharply, his back still bent over the table as he piled his plate high with delights.

"Did you have a bad night?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh, it's nice that you're speaking to me."

Richard frowned, not following her meaning. "Have I done something to upset you, Mother? You seem a little out of sorts."

"Nice of you to notice," she replied. He stared at her for a long moment until she huffed. "You promised me that by hiring that woman, we would have more time to find you a wife, but it seems the opposite has happened. You are never here any longer, Richard. Never around when I want to speak to you. And don't think I don't know where you've been going. I have many spies who tell me what you are up to."

"I am allowed to go anywhere I like in this house," he snapped, irritated both that she knew where he had been going and that it was that obvious. "It is my house, after all."

"You promised me," she whined. "You told me there were no feelings there, that you were merely helping out an old friend."

"And that is still the case," he replied. "Mother, I warn you, this is not a good path to go down."

"If it's still the case, then prove it," she taunted, refusing to acknowledge his warning.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Prove it how?"

His mother grinned now, and Richard realized this had been her plan all along. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I am throwing a dinner party next week, and you shall attend."

"As I always do," he said through gritted teeth. "Do not accuse me of neglecting my duties."

"But this one is different. I have invited several young ladies and their parents, who I believe have potential, and of course, Lady Rebecca will be there."

"Ah, yes," he replied dryly. "It wouldn't be an event without Lady Rebecca."

His mother turned her nose into the air. "I will admit that, as it stands, she is my favourite—"

" Your favourite?" he replied incredulously. "I didn't realize your favourite was of any importance whatsoever. Isn't it about who I choose? I am the Duke of Exeter, after all!"

"And I am your mother," she retorted harshly. "All I ask is if you give Lady Rebecca a chance."

Richard scoffed, dropping his toast onto the plate with a clatter and wiping the crumbs on his napkin, his breakfast ruined. "And have I not already given her a chance?" he demanded.

"Yes, but I want you to give her more of a chance. Don't think I haven't noticed how low on your priority list finding a wife has become. You are far too involved with that Courtenay woman. I had thought—hoped—that putting her out in the orangery would have been enough to see you clear your head of such nonsense."

Richard laughed, shaking his head again. "It all begins to make sense now, Mother! I did wonder why a woman as cold as yourself would offer Celestina a task you knew she would thoroughly enjoy."

With pursed lips, his mother shot him a sour expression. "I am not cold, Richard. I am merely looking out for your best interests since you are, duke or not, my son! I am perfectly within my rights, and you well know it."

Richard sighed, suddenly tired of the arguing. He rubbed his eyes, his brow in a deep furrow. "Yes," he said on a huff. "But there is no rush, is there? I do not need to be married off tomorrow. Can we not just take a little time?"

"Time?" She scoffed. "Richard, you are one-and-thirty years of age, and though it is less important for men as it is for women, you are getting to a grand old age for marriage. Don't you want to secure yourself a good match?"

Celestina .

The name popped into his head unbidden. It was not the first time he had thought of Celestina in that way, often wondering what life would be like if she were his wife. He couldn't get the thought from his head, in fact. The truth was, he had never stopped loving her, no matter what he had told his mother or even convinced himself. He loved her as much now as he ever had done. No . He loved her so much more now.

But she would never accept his feelings, and he knew that. She was adamant about maintaining that relationship between employer and employee, that boundary that seemed to hold them so cruelly apart. He had to let her go, for that's what she wanted. He just needed a little more time to accept that.

"Of course I do," he replied to his mother, his words soft, defeated. Hopeless. "But I want to be certain about my choice first. Is that too much to ask?"

His mother grinned triumphantly. "All the more reason for the dinner," she said. "You will be able to see all your options clearly."

He took in a deep, steadying breath. "Very well," he replied, throwing his napkin down onto his uneaten breakfast and standing. "I shall attend your dinner."

His mother looked up at him. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I seem to have lost my appetite."

Richard went straight to his rooms to freshen up. Already, he was impatient to see Celestina, wishing the time away. She would be there as soon as she finished her breakfast, but he needed to give her a chance to eat.

As he waited, he paced the room, marching back and forth, running over the argument with his mother in his mind. She was right, of course. He was being ridiculous. Though his love for Celestina grew by the minute, he knew he could never have her. He needed to accept that fact and move on.

But I'll have just one more day in her company.

He glanced at his pocket and, deciding it was time, dabbed a little perfume on his neck, checked his appearance one last time in the looking glass, then made his way to the orangery.

To his delight, Celestina was already there, cutting and pruning, and all his issues with his mother and marriage melted away. She looked up when he entered, her smile warm and welcoming. She had been expecting him; that much was clear, and his presence was clearly not a nuisance to her.

"Good morning," he said. "You started early today."

She shrugged coyly. "The weather is so beautiful today. I couldn't resist coming in here and enjoying the sun's warmth. I think I am rather like the plants in that respect."

He chuckled and then stepped fully into the room. He moved to stand right next to her and was thrilled when she didn't move away. He could feel her radiating warmth and smell the beautiful lavender of her perfume. It was the scent of comfort, of kindness. It held in it every memory he had of her, and he cherished it.

"I must admit I am trying to hide from my mother."

She turned and pouted at him. "Are you saying you are not here to see me?"

He sucked in his breath, panic washing through him. "No, that's not what I meant at all! Of course, I'm here to see you."

She let out a giggle and tapped him playfully on the arm. "I am teasing you, Your Grace," she said. "You worry too much."

Richard felt his cheeks colour, and he turned away. "I do wish you would drop the formality," he muttered.

"And I do wish you would stop asking me to. We need to retain some boundaries, do we not?"

No. Never.

"If you insist."

He turned and leaned against the edge of the raised flower bed so that he could watch her as she worked. She dipped her watering can into a deep well of water, then sprinkled some of the hardier flowers with a downpour. Next, she went about checking each flower, each stem, and each leaf, examining them as if she were a child, with careful consideration.

All the while, Richard watched her, unable to keep the smile from his face. Even now, he could not quite get over her beauty. She was the very definition of grace and poise, her movements elegant and sophisticated. Though circumstance might have left her needing employment, she would always be aristocratic.

When she returned to the bench, he turned back to watch her nimble hands at work with some tool or other, and in doing so, he intentionally bumped shoulders with her.

"Oops," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …"

He trailed off. She flashed him a knowing look, but it was with a grin that told him she didn't mind. They might never become lovers as he hoped, but at least she was not entirely immune to him.

"If you're going to stay in here pestering me, Your Grace," she said, "the least you could do is help. Pass me the secateurs, will you?"

"Always, Mrs Courtenay. Always."

***

"Good morning, Lady Kingsley," Rebecca said brightly as Beaumont showed her in.

"Ah, Rebecca. How lovely you look today. Yellow is your colour, you know."

Rebecca glanced down at the daffodil yellow summer gown she wore. The hem was carefully embroidered with small white flowers, and the empire line was so perfectly within the fashion of the day that Rebecca knew she looked perfect in it. She had chosen it in particular today, wanting it to demonstrate both her position in society and the beautiful shape of her body.

"Why thank you, Your Grace," she replied. "That's most kind of you to say. I wasn't sure of it myself."

"Oh, it's perfect," Lady Kingsley gushed in reply. "Richard will love it. He does love yellow so. You are here to see Richard, I take it?"

"Actually no," she replied, trying to keep the knowing smile from her face. "I thought I'd call on Celestina. We became something of friends when she was sick, and I was hoping we might continue that friendship."

Lady Kingsley frowned at her. "You know who she is, don't you?" she said with a warning. "I mean, you have such a sparkling reputation, Lady Rebecca, and if you don't mind my saying such, you don't wish to be tainted through your associations. You may not realize how much damage that could do, given your inexperience, but take it from a much older lady—the ton is very unforgiving."

Rebecca smirked. "Thank you for your kindness, Your Grace," she simmered. "But there is no need to worry. I only wish to be charitable. After all, should we not help those in need? Is she here today?"

Something flashed in Lady Kingsley's eyes, something Rebecca thought might be victory or triumph, but she chose to ignore it.

"Actually, yes," she replied. "I have given her the task of looking after the exotic plants in the orangery." She snorted with forced humour. "She has become little more than a gardener. Can you imagine such a thing?"

Rebecca giggled, enjoying the mean-spirited nature of their conversation. The further down in status Celestina went, the better chance Rebecca had of removing her from the duke's life entirely. And when she became his wife, she was determined that Celestina would no longer have a job to go to—neither in this house nor in any of the great houses in London.

"The poor thing," she replied insincerely. "Is it all right if I go and see her?"

"Quite," Lady Kingsley replied, that odd glint in her eye again.

"Thank you," Rebecca replied, then left the room.

When she stepped into the orangery without waiting for permission to enter, everything began to make sense. The duke was there.

Both he and Celestina jumped away from one another, the air filling with their gasps. Rebecca narrowed her eyes, appraising the situation. It seemed they had been doing something they shouldn't have been doing, which worried her.

"Goodness, Lady Rebecca," Celestina said with a laugh in her voice and a hand on her heart. "You made me jump."

"And His Grace, too, I see," she said.

It was true that she hadn't seen the duke for several weeks, but he'd been busy. His mother had told Rebecca as much. Dedicated to his work, determined to do the right thing—they were all words that had come out of Lady Kingsley's mouth. Rebecca had accepted it, even if she did have some doubts. Now, though, those doubts came to the forefront of her mind, and anger bubbled up inside her. Something untoward had been going on under her nose for weeks, and she wouldn't stand for it. She would not give up the duke without a fight.

"Er, yes." He cleared his throat, unable to meet Rebecca's eyes, which only served to infuriate her more. "Well, thank you for helping me with that little … um, that little task, Celestina."

"Yes, Your Grace," Celestina said, her own gaze darting over the floor as if filled with guilt. "Any time."

The duke cleared his throat again. "Well, I ought to get on with my day. I suppose a duke's work is never done."

Rebecca threw him a false smile. "I suppose not," she agreed.

As he scuttled past her, she turned to watch him leave. Only as the heavy, iron-framed door closed itself behind him did she turn back to Celestina, yet another false smile painted across her features.

"Mrs Courtenay," she cooed. "How are you feeling? It's so good to see you up and about. I'm only sorry that I couldn't visit sooner. You know what it's like in the ton —so many events to attend. It must be so relaxing now that you don't have such a hectic social life."

Celestina winced at the slight, but she quickly recovered. "I must admit, the early nights have done me the world of good. Can I help you with anything, My Lady?"

Rebecca wandered around the orangery, picking at the plants and examining Celestina's handiwork. She'd never had much time for botany, and plants bored her to tears. She didn't know why anyone would care about such things.

"Oh, I just wanted to check in on you. I feel we became rather friendly when you were ill, and I do like to ensure the good health of my friends, even if they are employees of other friends."

She giggled, putting a hand over her mouth as if she hadn't meant to say such a cruel thing. Celestina's cheeks had turned pink, and Rebecca couldn't help enjoying the sight of it.

"That is very kind of you, My Lady," Celestina replied, though she kept her head bowed to her work, and the words came out softly.

"Well, I suppose we will be seeing a lot more of each other before long," Rebecca said idly.

Celestina's head shot up, a look of confusion on her face. "Oh yes? Why is that?"

"Oh, I thought you knew." Rebecca's hand hovered over her throat as if she'd made a dreadful faux pas .

"Know what?" Rebecca could hear the anxious hesitation in the woman's voice, and it made her grin again.

"Why, I anticipate the duke will begin officially courting me imminently. Everyone in London knows it. But then, I suppose you are no longer privy to society's comings and goings, are you?"

"No, I suppose not," Celestina replied.

Rebecca could hear the note of sadness in her voice, and she suppressed the urge to smile.

"Yes, it's all terribly exciting! Between you and I, I really like him. I do hope the courtship leads to marriage."

"Well, in that case, I'm very happy for you," Celestina replied. She looked up at her with defeat and misery in her eyes, and Rebecca's heart flipped with triumph.

"Thank you, that's most kind of you! Oh, I have the best idea!" She giggled, putting her hand to her chest as if the idea had only just come to her.

"Oh yes?" Celestina asked, eyebrows raised.

"You should come shopping with me one day next week. Let's call it a girl's day out!"