Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Celestina excused herself and then quickly ran from the room. Though she was grateful for Richard's support, she would have far rather had the entire situation be brushed under the carpet and forgotten. She hadn't appreciated how either of the ladies had spoken to her, but neither had she intended them to be humiliated. She had never really been one for vengeance. She only wanted a peaceful, quiet life with those she cared about.

She hurried to her bedchamber, hoping to put the whole sorry affair behind her. The letter pushed beneath the door was immediately obvious, glowing like a beacon on the wooden floor. She paused, her hand still on the doorknob, frozen in surprise. Her heart immediately set to pounding again, that ball of dread knotting itself tighter and tighter still.

A letter? But no one knows I am here!

She stared at it for a long moment before gathering the courage to pick it up. Eventually, she closed the door quietly, then bent down and snatched it from the floor. She turned it over and over in her hands. It was lightweight—surely only one sheet of parchment. On the front were two simple words: Celestina Courtenay.

"It must have been hand-delivered," she muttered as she turned it over. The seal did nothing to enlighten her, with no stamp within the wax, but that didn't make her feel any better.

She pushed her finger under the wax and snapped it open without further ado. She unfolded the parchment.

It was good to see you again today, Celestina.

Celestina sat on the bed and lowered the letter into her lap, letting out a yelp. It was Edward! He'd discovered where she was hiding. As if the dreadful day couldn't get any worse!

She shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths, telling herself not to cry out again. She didn't want anyone running in and asking her what the matter was. Instead, she gathered herself and raised the letter to her face once more.

It was good to see you again today, Celestina.

I have been looking for you, for there are certain things you ought to know about your husband. Certain things that I am now having to deal with. The reason he left you destitute was that he was a gambler—and a bad one at that. To add to matters, he was a philanderer. Did you know about his mistresses? S

ome of them he paid upfront, like the rake he was. Others, he kept them in comfort, there for his pleasure whenever he chose to use them. He may have fooled everyone with his reputation, but I knew the truth. I saw everything. And now, I am burdened with the responsibility of clearing his debts—to the sum of ￡2,000.

Of course, dear Celestina, it is you I am most worried about. I wouldn't want to see you further hurt. And so I am giving you one opportunity to save yourself and your good husband's name. After all, it is not correct that I am required to pay.

If you cannot pay me the ￡2,000 by April 20 th, then I'm afraid I will no longer be able to maintain my silence. That gives you two weeks—ample time for an intelligent woman such as yourself to come up with the funds.

You are always in my heart and thoughts, dear Celestina, and I only hope we can come to an agreement over this matter.

Yours sincerely,

Edward.

Celestina must have cried out then because Sylvia came running into her room, her eyes wide.

"What's happened?" she asked, throwing herself onto the bed next to Celestina. "Is everything all right?"

Celestina turned to look at her, her face pale, the letter crumpled in her lap. She opened her mouth, but no words came. That fear, that dread she'd managed to keep at bay, now throbbed through her body, deafening her mind.

"It's … it's …"

The tears she had been so desperately holding in all day came forth, released with all the anxiety and worry. The worst had finally happened, and there was no way to escape it this time. No knight in shining armour to come to rescue her.

"It's a good job I finished my work early. I would never have heard you otherwise," Sylvia said.

"I don't …" So much spun around Celestina's mind that she couldn't form a clear thought, let alone a clear word or two.

"Oh, you poor dear," Sylvia said, wrapping her former employer in her arms. "What's happened to upset you so?"

Celestina rested her head on Sylvia's shoulders and let the tears flow. She was tired of it all. The hiding and the working and the trying. It was all too much. Sylvia rocked her back and forth, patting her back.

"There, there," she muttered. "Let it all out, and then you can tell me what happened."

Where could she start? That morning when she stepped into the carriage with Lady Rebecca? When she'd first met Richard and fallen in love with him all those years ago? When David got into business with a brute like Edward Willoughby? When her parents and David died, leaving her with no security?

It felt as if everything had been going wrong for her since the day she was born, and nothing she tried—no matter how hard she worked or how strong she stayed—seemed to help.

"It's not true," she said through her tears. "None of it."

"What's not true?" Sylvia asked, pulling away from her to look at her.

"What Edward says about David. I don't believe a word of it."

When Sylvia threw her a confused look, she handed her the letter, then waited with bated breath while she read.

Sylvia tensed as she read, her fingers gripping the parchment. The slight shake in her hands told Celestina that Sylvia was as shocked and worried as she was.

"You are quite right," Sylvia said when she finished reading. Her face had turned as pale as Celestina's, her eyes haunted. "None of this is true. Mr Courtenay simply wasn't like that. Let him say what he wants, Celestina. No one will believe a word of it."

Despite herself, Celestina snorted. "Even you can't really think that's true. A sniff of scandal, whether true or not, and the ton lose themselves in excitement. David is no longer here to defend himself and I … I …" A sob escaped her lips once more, and she buried her face in her hands.

"You're right," Sylvia said solemnly. She looked down at the letter again, chewing her lip as she scanned the words again. "But there must be something we can do."

"I shall have to find the money," Celestina said with an exasperated shrug. "Though from where I cannot think. It is an outrageous sum."

The pair fell into silence, each considering the seriousness of the issue, each consumed by their own thoughts and worries. Eventually, Sylvia broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Why don't you speak to the duke? You are old friends, and I am certain he would help you."

"Absolutely not," Celestina said. She hadn't even needed to think about it. She couldn't go to Richard when she had already taken so much of his hospitality. Besides, she had already brought trouble to his door merely by working for him.

"But he could help; I know he could. I am certain this amount of money is a mere drop in the ocean for a man like the duke, and I know he will want to help keep you safe. He has shown that much already."

"But I cannot drag him into this sorry mess," Celestina said. "Have I not caused enough damage?"

Sylvia sighed. "I am certain he does not think of it like that. I have seen the way he looks at you, Celestina. I know he will help if only you ask."

"No," Celestina said firmly, though her heart jumped. How had he looked at her? The idea that it might have been with fondness sent a thrill through her, even amidst the chaos currently running through her mind.

"But—"

"I said no, Sylvia. I cannot add to what I owe him already. That's the end of it. Please."

Sylvia huffed but relented, slumping her shoulders and looking down at the letter again.

"Then whatever will we do?" she asked quietly. "Where will you find that sort of money?"

"I don't know," Celestina replied, her voice distant as she became lost in her own thoughts. "I suppose I need to see him face to face."

Sylvia gasped. "No, Celestina, you mustn't!"

Celestina stood up and pasted on a smile, a decision made. "Thank you for everything, Sylvia. Now, if you don't mind—"

"No!" Sylvia jumped up, panic in her eyes, but Celestina only smiled at her, her hands resting on her upper arms.

"It's all right, Sylvia. Really. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, but I do not trust that man. He is blackmailing you, Celestina!"

Celestina took in a deep breath. "And I shall deal with it. Now, if you don't mind, I have a letter to write."

"To Edward Willoughby?"

Celestina nodded. "To Edward Willoughby."