Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Celestina stood before David's grave, staring down at the stone. Her eyes were dry. There were no more tears to cry. She hadn't planned on coming here. But as she'd wandered away from Edward's home, she was drawn here, her need for answers overwhelming.

"How could you do it?" she asked, wishing he could reply more than anything. "Why did you leave me in this state?"

She sighed, rubbing her hands over her tired face. She was being unfair. No matter what Edward said, she didn't believe David had been the man he claimed. She didn't know what had happened to the money, but she was certain it wasn't David's fault. Or she hoped it wasn't.

She growled in frustration. The truth was that she didn't know the truth. She didn't know what to believe. One minute, she was convinced of David's innocence. The next, she was furious at him for leaving her in such a position.

"What should I do?" she asked. She had spent so many years simply doing what her parents told her, then David told her what to do. Now, she felt lost at sea. She was strong enough to look after herself; she knew that. At least, she had thought she was, but it seemed now that Edward had won. She had no choice but to become his.

She lowered her head. David would be so ashamed.

"I am sorry," she said quietly. "For everything."

Because it wasn't only Edward who weighed on her mind. There was Richard, too.

Richard. Richard. Richard.

His name whispered through her mind at all times, a steady beat beneath her every thought. But even that brought her shame. She should have been mourning her husband. If she were a good wife, she would be doing that. She wouldn't have old feelings stirring within her. She wouldn't find herself drawn to a man she once loved with all her heart.

A man I still love.

Still, she supposed none of it mattered anymore. Her life was about to change completely. With a sigh, she turned away from David's resting place and set about returning to Exeter House. She needed to make preparations for her new life.

***

"Ah, Celestina, there you are. I was wondering whether you could help me in the study?"

Richard had seen her slope into the house. She clearly wanted to disappear, to hide away in her room. Something was bothering her, and he wanted to make her feel better. His company normally cheered her up.

She turned to him and smiled weakly. She looked as exhausted as she did overwhelmed. "Is it urgent?" she asked. "It's just … it's my day off, and …"

"Actually, yes," he said, hoping she would take the bait. "I'm afraid it is imperative that you join me. I will make sure that you are renumerated for your time."

Celestina sighed deeply. She followed him somewhat reluctantly, and though Richard felt guilty for manipulating her, he knew he could make her feel better. He just knew it.

And having her near me soothes my soul.

"How has your day been?" he said as they entered the study. He pushed the door so that it was almost closed. He couldn't close it entirely, for it wouldn't be proper, but he wanted to afford them at least a small amount of privacy.

"Fine," she replied, not looking at him.

Richard inhaled. Very well. "I'd like you to help me organize these … er …" He looked around the study. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "These files."

"Of course," she muttered.

As she began working through the files, sliding them into alphabetical order, Richard searched his mind for something to say. "How are you getting on? At the house, I mean?"

"All right," she replied, refusing to be engaged.

"And have you made friends?" he pushed. He missed their conversations. There had been times when they'd talked about everything—from the smallest everyday thing to philosophy and the meaning of life.

"Some," she said, then went quiet again, examining the files with great care.

Richard sighed, thinking back to the topics they'd discussed as youngsters. She'd always been keen on adventure, wanting to hear all the details of his exploits at Eton. She talked a lot about travel, too.

"Did you get the opportunity to travel around Europe?" he asked, hoping to spark some of her old desire. "I know how keen you were to go."

"David didn't like to travel," she replied simply.

He waited a moment ,then continued, "I travelled the continent when I finished university," he said. "Father always said it would be good for my continued education, but it was the adventure I enjoyed best."

For the first time, she glanced up at him, her interest piqued. "Where did you go?" she asked.

Richard smiled to himself, pleased he had found a way to get through to her. "Italy, France, Spain, Greece. A few other places, too. I was away for two and a half years in total."

"Goodness. I'd heard you'd travelled when you were younger, but I hadn't realized it was so extensive."

He grinned. The reason he had left in the first place was because Celestina was marrying David. He had needed to get away. It amused him now that that very trip was inducing conversation with her now. She put down the folder she had been holding and looked directly at him.

"Which city was your favourite?" she asked, a new light in her eyes.

"Oh, Paris, without a doubt. Such a romantic city."

Celestina sighed. "Yes, I've read all about it. I would dearly love to visit, but I suppose that will never be possible now."

"You never know what will happen in the future," he said. "Don't ever give up hope."

"Had they started building the Arc de Triumph then? David told me all about it from the papers."

"No, sadly, it hadn't yet been commissioned," Richard replied. "But I did see the Delphi in Greece and the Colosseum in Rome."

Celestina sighed, though it was with a wistful smile. The files now forgotten, she leaned against the desk and looked into the distance.

"I should imagine everything is just perfect on the continent."

Richard snorted. "Not at all. It was an adventure, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but we are far more sophisticated here in England. It is like the whole of Europe is fifty years behind us in terms of civilization, economy, and politics."

"Yes, but what of culture and music and art?" Celestina gushed, her spirit renewed. "I have never visited, of course, but I imagine the Parisians, in particular, to be full of love and paintings."

"You're right," Richard said softly.

His gaze had fallen on her as she'd spoken, and now he couldn't pull it away. He always found her beautiful, but when passion ignited her, she seemed to come alive. In these moments, he loved her the most. When all her worries were forgotten, and she seemed lighter than air.

"And love and culture and art …" She looked him directly in the eyes. "They are life, aren't they? What are civilization and politics without beauty, too?"

"They are," he said, still watching her. His blood rushed through his ears, the steady beat of his body urging him to tell her everything, to share his love. His heart screamed at him that she loved him in return, but his head warned him not to be so foolish. He swallowed, pushing his emotion away once more. "I actually have a book of the art I saw in La Louvre . Would you care to see it?"

"I'd love to," she replied.

He pulled the large book from the top shelf and laid it flat on the desk. Then he turned the pages slowly, revealing the precious sculpture and painting he had seen at the museum.

Celestina gasped at the sight, her fingers gently touching the soft parchment copies. "It's beautiful."

"Yes," he replied, looking at her rather than the page. At that moment, he promised himself he'd find a way of taking Celestina to Paris, to La Louvre . He didn't yet know how, but he would find a way, no matter what.

She reached down to turn the page, and as she did so, her hand brushed against his. He held his breath momentarily, wishing he could make it last longer. She pulled away, her fingertips returning to the artwork in awe. Richard couldn't stop himself; he couldn't help it. He moved his hand with hers and let his fingers entwine with hers over the parchment.

She didn't pull away nor flinch. She kept her hand steady, her breath heavy, and she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. How desperately Richard wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her into an embrace, but he didn't dare. Instead, he stared into her eyes, silently revealing his true emotions.

I love you, Celestina. I always have.

"Good evening!"

His mother's words were harsh and sour, heavy in the soft lightness of the room. Richard and Celestina sprang apart, and she blushed so deeply that she dipped her head to hide it.

"G-good evening, Mother," Richard said, blinking as he returned to himself.

Lady Kingsley stood in the doorway, her hands clasped before her, her lips pursed in distaste and disapproval. She looked Celestina up and down as if she were nothing. Richard supposed that Celestina was nothing but a servant to her. But to him, she was everything. She was the world.

"I'd best … er …" Celestina smiled awkwardly. "I believe Mrs Jones wanted to see me. Goodnight, Your Grace. Lady Kingsley."

She nodded to each of them in turn, then disappeared from the room. Richard's heart cried out for her, silently begging her to return. When his mother cleared her throat, however, he jumped again and pulled his attention from the now-empty doorway to her.

"What can I do for you, Mother?" he asked, his whole body tense with irritation at being disturbed.

"I knew it," she hissed. "You're falling for her again, aren't you? You are a romantic fool, just like your father. I should have had him beat that out of you as a child."

Richard looked at her in surprise. "It's nice to see you too, Mother."

"Don't try to deny it," she said. I wasn't going to. "I can see it in your eyes. Pathetic!"

"Have you finished?" he asked, tilting his head at her as he closed the book of art and picked it up in his arms.

"I will never accept her , you know," she said, her words nothing but a snarl. She jabbed in the air in the direction Celestina had gone. " That woman has no place in this house, and the sooner you realize it, the better."

"And pray tell, who does have a place here?" he asked, his irritation slowly turning to anger.

His mother had meddled in his life quite enough, and without his father to tame her, she had become almost unbearable. She was his mother, of course, and he would love and protect her no matter what, but there was only so much he would take before he put her in her place. She walked dangerously closer to the line every day.

"Rebecca is lovely. I don't understand why you have been so cruel to her of late. And if not her, then at least someone as suitable. The destitute widow most definitely does not fit into that category."

Richard turned his back to her and slid the book of art back onto the shelf, then moved over to the folders and began stacking them again. When he finally looked back up at his mother, he said, "Thank you for your input, Mother, but I shall make my own decisions."

"No, Richard," she snapped. "You will make the correct decisions."

"And one thing is absolutely certain," he growled at her. "I refuse to bend to anyone's will—and that includes yours. Is that understood?"

She remained silent for a long moment, not quite looking at him. She strolled around his study, examining things as if she were merely visiting. Richard eyed her warily, a dangerous predator he needed to be watchful of.

"She is a widow, remember," she said, still not looking at him. "And she couldn't even give her husband children! The woman must be barren. I don't understand what the appeal is."

Richard scoffed, shaking his head. "Good Lord, Mother! You are on form this evening. Do you really think I care whether Celestina is barren? Her ability to have children matters not to me. But having her in my life means everything."

His mother finally turned back to him, her eyes narrowed in warning. "She marks trouble for this house and for you, Richard. And need I not remind you that she is still mourning for her husband."

Richard felt a flash of jealousy remembering the way David had loved Celestina, for he had loved her; there was no doubt about that.

"I think you ought to leave now, Mother."

"And I think you ought to consider your next move very carefully indeed."

She turned with her words, slipping out of his study, and Richard fell into his chair with a sigh of relief. He was glad she was gone and that he had not given in to her yet again. But the cold truth of the matter was that she was right. Celestina was still in mourning—and for several more months—and he had been disrespectful in not remembering that.

He should have been more understanding. It was no wonder she looked so confused and worried that evening. He would wait, then, until her period of mourning was over before he told her the truth about his feelings.