Chapter 32

Chapter 32

"Celestina," he said, surprising her as she scuttled through the corridor the following day. "I was wondering whether you could help me in the study with my accounts? The ledgers are rather building up, and I could do with a little assistance.

Celestina was surprised by the offer. That morning, she'd done everything she could to spend time with him. She'd caught him here and there, bumping into him in the corridors and snatching bits of conversation in the dining room.

He was distracted, busy with work and dealing with his mother, and though he gave her snippets of time, it was as though he was sure there would always be more time. Only she knew there wouldn't be, not after tomorrow.

"Now?" she asked. "I was getting everything ready for the dinner party this evening."

The dinner party. She had organized it so that it fell on Saturday night for a reason. It would give her and Sylvia the perfect cover to slip away unnoticed.

"And my ledgers aren't important for the party?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well … no," she replied, confused.

He shook his head, laughing at himself. "No, of course they aren't. But they are important, and I would like your help if you don't mind."

She nodded and followed him in silence, her heart thudding at the chance to spend just another moment, another short time with him. Something else she could bury in her heart and take with her for the cold, lonely nights. She was certain there would be many of them.

They worked in silence for a while, glancing up at each other alternately, each taking a turn to sneak a look. She smiled as she watched him. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he worked, his mind doing the complicated calculations with ease, his hand carefully shaping the numbers on the page. She would miss that, too.

He looked up just as she was staring. She quickly looked away, though she knew it was too late.

"What?" he asked. "What is it? Why are you looking at me?"

"I wasn't," she replied, forcing her lips closed against the desire to laugh.

"Yes, you were," he said, quill hovering in mid-air as he looked at her from under his brow. "I saw you."

The laughter she'd been holding in bubbled out of her. "I'm sorry. It's just … has anyone told you how winsome you are when you're concentrating?"

He coloured at her words, which she found all the more adorable. Her words had been bold, and she knew it. But tomorrow, she would never have a chance to say such a thing again. It made her daring.

"Goodness, Celestina," he sputtered, half talking, half laughing. "That was …" He cleared his throat, and she shook her head.

"Yes, quite right," she said, resuming her normal poise. "I do apologize. I merely got lost in the moment, nothing more."

Richard put his quill down and sighed. "I must say, I find you rather winsome as well, though I am aware of how inappropriate it is to say such a thing."

Celestina had never been good at receiving compliments, and it seemed even more difficult with Richard. She tensed her shoulders and turned away from him, piles of ledgers clutched in her arms. "Quite right," she said. "It's not appropriate at all. Shall we continue?"

They did continue, this time in silence, the pair working away at their respective tasks. Celestina slid files onto the bookcase in their given order while Richard's quill scratched the parchment. He got up from his seat now and then, checking figures on other papers or verifying purchases. Celestina watched how he moved from the corner of her eye until she became so engrossed in her work that she no longer noticed him.

When he bumped into her, she squealed, reaching out as she began toppling. Richard's quick reactions had him throwing his arms out to catch her, and she landed safely against him. She stared up at him, quite unable to move, her mouth hanging open as she was reminded that this was all she had ever wanted—to be in his arms. His body was warm against hers, his chest firm and his arms strong.

Richard didn't move either. He had frozen, his eyes stuck on hers. She could feel his racing heart through his thin linen shirt.

"Celestina, I …"

The words were haltering, and she thought him dangerously close to revealing what he truly felt, for she knew there was something, just as there was for her. She should have done more to deter him and convince him that she wasn't the one for him. But, as selfish as it was, she was happy to have at least a small part of his heart.

"Richard …"

So close to telling him everything, the truth of her situation rushed to her. She leapt out of his arms, her cheeks warm with desire and embarrassment. She had to put some space between them, or she could never walk away from him. It was already far too difficult.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, and she ran from the room—and Richard's life—for good.

Later that night, her heart heavy with all that might have been, Celestina slipped into the library. She looked down at the letter in her hands. She'd poured her heart into it. Though she didn't tell him she loved him directly, she thanked him for everything and begged him not to follow or look for her.

She'd written his name in a curved script on the front. She looked at it now, wondering if she would ever see his name again. Raising it to her lips, she kissed the parchment, then placed it on the desk she knew Richard always used.

"Ready?" Sylvia asked in a whisper from the doorway. "The party will begin in just an hour. Everyone is busy with preparations. This is the perfect moment."

Celestina looked up at her, her eyes wet with tears. Was she ready? She didn't think she'd ever truly be ready for what she was about to do, but knew there was no choice. She had to leave, and it had to be tonight. Far too many people's lives would be damaged otherwise, not least her own, and she wouldn't have that on her conscience.

"Have you run your errand?" she asked.

Sylvia nodded. She had not explained to Celestina to whom she had written the letter, nor had she told her where she had gone. But Celestina afforded her that measure of privacy. Sylvia had done so much for her, and she deserved that much. Celestina only hoped she was not giving up too much for her former employer.

"I'm ready," Sylvia said.

"Then I suppose we ought to go."

Together, they slipped out of the house and into the darkness of night, not once daring to look back.

***

"You're not yet ready," his mother said, looking him up and down as she walked past his open bedchamber door.

"I am getting ready now, Mother," he replied without looking at her.

"But the guests will be arriving in less than thirty minutes!"

He straightened his cravat in the looking glass, and then shrugged on his tailcoat. He turned to her with a false smile. "There, that didn't take long, did it?"

She eyed him carefully. "Well, do hurry downstairs. The guest of honour should be there to greet his guests."

"Yes, Mother," he muttered.

He pushed past her, leaving the room and moving down the corridor. He could feel her eyes on his back as he went, but he didn't dare look back. He had no desire to see her and even less desire to listen to her. He wanted to find Celestina.

They'd grown closer than ever in the last few days. She seemed happier and lighter, and though it surprised him, he didn't question it. He hadn't wanted to ruin it. But now, dread was beginning to knot itself in his stomach. Something was wrong; he could feel it.

How she had run from him that afternoon left him wondering—was it simply that she was frightened of her own feelings? Or maybe she was worried about propriety. Whatever it was, he was certain now that she, too, felt something. She experienced the same spark of excitement whenever they were together.

That's why he wanted to find her now. He wanted to put his mind at rest before the party began and maybe calm her fears, too. She could mourn in peace. He wouldn't make his move.

As he walked past the library, he caught a whiff of something.

Lavender.

It was Celestina's scent; he'd know it anywhere. Smiling to himself, he went inside. Little did he know that he was only moments too late.

"Celestina? Do you have your nose buried in a book somewhere?" He chuckled at his own humour, but as he walked around the library, he couldn't find her. His doubt and dread gnawed at him further. "Celestina?"

That's when he spotted it, the letter neatly placed on his preferred desk. His name was written in her beautiful script. He hesitated, not wanting to pick it up. But then he moved in a flurry of activity, desperate to know what was inside. He snatched open the seal and read with desperate hunger.

"No, Celestina," he muttered as he read. "No. No, no. Tell me it's not true."

His heart broke into a million pieces, scattering along the floor like broken crystal. He fell into the chair behind him, his legs no longer able to hold him up, his happiness long forgotten. The party a distant murmur.

Gone. Celestina has gone.

He leapt up from his chair. No, she couldn't be gone. He'd find her. She must have been here only moments earlier; she couldn't have gone far. He sat back down and read the note again.

As devastated as he was, anger crawled across his flesh. How could she just leave him like that? After everything! It wasn't that he'd helped her—he would always do that, no matter what. It was that he thought they'd had something, shared something. He was certain she had felt it, too, and he'd been respectful enough not to reveal the truth to her.

Is that the problem? Should I have told her everything?

He rubbed his face with his hands, the letter still between his fingers, and he growled in frustration and hurt. He didn't know what to do. Didn't he mean anything to her? He'd thought so, but maybe he'd just been imagining it. Maybe he had come on too strongly, just as his mother had said. Maybe their love was as one-sided as he'd always believed it to be.

"Breathe, Richard," he muttered to himself. He stared out across the library, unseeing, his thoughts unspooling rapidly. "Think."

He took in a few steadying breaths, allowing his mind to calm and the thoughts to begin to make sense. Celestina had always been a pragmatic woman. She never took drastic action unless absolutely necessary, preferring instead to go along with the decisions made around her. She'd always wanted an easy life. There was no way she would have done something like this unless she felt she had to.

But why?

He bit down on his lip as hard as he could, the pain bringing his thoughts into sharper focus. She was not one to do anything on a whim, preferring to weigh the pros and cons and be fully prepared. That meant she had been planning this for some time.

But why?

The question nagged at him again. She'd been happy here. There was no disguising that. She hadn't been pretending. He knew her too well for that. There had to be more to it. He wanted to go after her and find out the truth, but where would he start? She had no family left, and he didn't know of any friends. David had seen to that. He had no idea where she would go.

He rested his head against the chair, his body numb with the news, when Rebecca sauntered into the library as if she belonged there.

"There you are, Your Grace," she said with a broad, comfortable smile. "Your mother is looking all over the place for you."

"Why are you walking around my house so freely?" he demanded. "Has nobody ever taught you manners?"

Rebecca took a step back, clearly shocked by his harsh words. Good. It was high time she learned how he truly felt. She had been worming her way into his house for far too long, and it was time to put a stop to it, no matter what his interfering mother had to say about it.

"Lady Kingsley … I … Goodness, Your Grace." At least she'd had the decency to blush in embarrassment at her behaviour. "She asked me to come and find you."

"Well, now you've found me," he muttered, looking away from her with a clenched jaw. "And now you can leave me be!"

Her eyes widened as he roared the last words, his fury and despair taking over any propriety or reasoning he had. She narrowed her eyes, her sweet expression changing, and she stepped towards him with a boldness he would never have credited her with.

"What's this?" she demanded as she snatched the letter from his hand.

He let her read it. He no longer cared. He just wanted Celestina back. When she finished, she handed it back to him, a look of victory etched across her face.

"Finally," she said with a smirk. " That woman is out of our lives for good!"