Chapter 35

Chapter 35

One month later

"He proposed!" Sylvia said as she burst into the house.

Celestina looked up from the novel she had been reading, blinking in amusement at her friend. "I'm sorry?"

"Walter! He proposed." Sylvia giggled, throwing herself onto the couch. She flung her reticule onto the low coffee table between them. "Can you believe it, Celestina? I'm to be married!"

Celestina smiled at her, her heart warming for her. It was everything she deserved after all she had done, and her happiness was evident.

"I had no doubt that he would," Celestina said. "But I am so very happy for you, Sylvia dear. We should celebrate this joyous occasion!"

She jumped up from her seat, the book left face down on its open page on the arm of the chair and ran to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Sylvia called from the parlour, and Celestina imagined her craning her neck to see.

"Fetching the good sherry!" She dashed back to the parlour with a crystal decanter and two matching glasses. "This calls for a little drink, I'd say."

She set the glasses down on the coffee table and poured out two healthy measures of sherry. She handed one to Sylvia, then raised her own.

"To you and Walter! May you live forever happy and in peace."

Celestina returned to her chair and curled her legs beneath her again. Sylvia grinned and clinked Celestina's glass. After taking a sip, she said, "To a long and happy future for the both of us."

Celestina smiled and then fell into silence. She looked around the parlour of the house she had loved for so long. She never thought she would see it again, and yet here she was, returned as the lady of the house.

It turned out that even the property was in Edward's possession, the foreclosure notice forged along with many other documents, and when her goods and money were returned to her, so was her old marital home. She moved back into it immediately, rehiring all the staff and inviting Sylvia to live with them too.

"It's good to be back here, isn't it?" she said.

Sylvia looked around appraisingly. "It feels a little different now that I'm not your lady's maid."

Celestina met her gaze. "You have always been more of a companion than a maid. It's only fair that now you have that title—and the increased salary to reflect it."

"How are you getting on with the new lady's maid?" Sylvia asked. She reached forward and put her glass on the table. Light bounced from the crystal.

"Oh, Annie? Yes, she's lovely, though perhaps you could spend a little time with her and explain how I like my hair curled. No one ever could do it as well as you do."

Sylvia giggled. "Of course. I'd be happy to."

They slipped into silence again, each lost in their own thoughts. Celestina twirled the glass around in her hand, watching the glittering red liquid turn over and over. "I shall miss you when you're gone," she said softly.

"Nonsense," Sylvia replied. "I'm not going anywhere!"

Celestina snorted and looked up at her. "Will you not live with your husband, then?"

Sylvia's cheeks coloured, a coy expression crossing her face. "Well, yes, I suppose. But that doesn't mean I cannot be your companion any longer. I have always been there for you, Celestina. And I always will be, no matter what. You are my best friend, and I hope you can say the same about me."

"Oh, I can," Celestina agreed. "You have been so good to me, and I shall always appreciate it."

They fell into silence again, though it was comfortable, companionable. Sylvia reached for her sherry once more and took a sip. After a moment, she said, "Do you think the duke will propose soon?"

Celestina took a moment to absorb the question and consider all the answers. Marriage was something she had thought about—of course it was. But she still wasn't convinced it was the right thing for them.

Her courtship with Richard was still in the early stages, and the pair were deliriously happy when in one another's company. But Celestina knew well enough that happiness often wasn't enough. On dark, cold, lonely nights, Lady Rebecca's words swirled around in her mind. You're not good enough. He deserves better. At least when she was with Richard himself, she did not feel any of that. She felt only love and warmth.

"I don't know," she said eventually, and that was the truth. "Though for now, I am happy enough courting. I was surprised even to receive that invitation."

"I was not," Sylvia said from behind her sherry glass. She giggled. "Why, anyone with eyes can see the fondness he has for you. It's as bright as the sun itself!"

"Oh, I knew he had feelings for me," Celestina clarified, "But the two don't necessarily go hand in hand. If they did, Richard and I would have courted when we were young. Instead, I married someone else, and Richard … well, he travelled the world and became a duke." She chuckled. "It's funny how life turns out, isn't it? If you had asked me when I was a child to plot the course of my life, I don't think I would have got a single thing correct."

"But it's all turned out for the best," Sylvia said. "And I'd wager the duke has plans of his own, too."

She tapped the side of her nose, her eyes sparkling with some hidden knowledge. It set Celestina wondering whether Walter had told her something. After all, in the time they were gone, he and Richard had become firm friends. Why, Richard had even invited Walter to join his gentlemen's club, much to Walter's sheer delight.

The truth was Celestina was still unsure about marriage. Though her period of mourning was officially over, she was still a widow —and one shrouded in scandal. Though none of it was her fault and Edward's crimes were common knowledge, still many people of the ton argued that there was no smoke without fire. Celestina must have been at least partly to blame. She'd even heard people say she seduced Edward and ruined him.

"Actually, Richard and I are going for a picnic tomorrow," she said, taking another sip of her sherry. She scrunched her toes against the soft fabric of the chair, enjoying the sensation of comfort after so many months without it.

"You should wear the emerald green gown you picked up last week," Sylvia said.

Celestina laughed. "That's a little over the top for a picnic, is it not? It's silk!"

Sylvia pushed her nose into the air as if offended. "And why, pray tell, shouldn't one wear one's best clothes, regardless of where they are going? And besides, it complements your complexion and your hair perfectly. It makes you look alive."

Celestina smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. "I will look like a mad woman turning up in that," she said, though secretly she had already decided Sylvia was right. She would wear the emerald green and wow Richard even more than she already had. After all, the gown made her feel beautiful and confident and gave her all those properties she wished to exude.

"And I'll do your hair," Sylvia said. "You were quite right about Annie. Lovely as she is, she needs more training in that department."

Celestina laughed again. "Even now, you are still looking after me."

"With fair reason," Sylvia said with a nod. "And besides, I'm soon to be a married woman—you ought to listen to my advice."

"I was married once, you know?" Celestina reminded her.

Sylvia swallowed her sherry and shook her head. "No," she said. "That was just a practice run for the real thing."

***

Richard gasped as Celestina stepped out of the house, resplendent in emerald green. She stopped to allow him to admire her, her head held high. It was unseasonably warm for autumn, and the reddish leaves that swirled down from the trees made her look all the more beautiful.

"Do you like it?" she asked, clutching the skirt and dipping at the knee as if curtsying.

"You are comely and radiant, my dear, and a lovelier gown I have never seen."

Celestina giggled and stepped down from the step. She took his awaiting hand, feeling his warmth through his glove, and allowed him to lead her to the carriage.

"I got it from the modiste just last week. She assured me it's of the latest fashion."

"It matters not whether it is fashionable or otherwise," he said as he climbed into the carriage after her. "Only that it suits you—and that it most definitely does. Shall we go to Regent's Park? The cook prepared the most delicious picnic you can imagine."

"That sounds perfect."

They took a turn around the park first, admiring the plants that lined the pathways. Richard pointed up at the sky, indicating the birds he knew.

"Chaffinch," he said. "They like the woods."

Another time, "Oh, a wren! I'm surprised we did not hear his song before seeing him."

"Perhaps his throat is sore from too much singing," Celestina teased.

"Yes, I think that is the most likely explanation, and not at all that we were probably talking over his song."

Their picnic was as delicious as Richard claimed it would be. From cold cuts of beef and pork to guinea pie and lemon posset, there was a little of everything. They ate like kings and queens, washing it down with some of the finest white wine Celestina had ever tasted.

Celestina felt truly happy, more so than she ever thought possible. She had never thought she would even smile again, but days like this were better than anything she had ever experienced. Everything felt right. It felt magical, bright, and happy, but it felt right, too. It felt calm and peaceful, just like everything should have been.

When they finished eating, Celestina stretched her legs across the picnic blanket, her hands behind her to hold her up. She raised her face to the warm sun, soaking in the rays, contentedness settling into her. This was the life she had always wanted, and Richard always made it better.

He cleared his throat. "Er … Celestina?"

She looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"I was wondering … What I mean to say is that … These past weeks have been the happiest in my entire life."

Celestina's questioning look turned into a wide grin. "I am glad to hear that, for they have been mine also."

They gazed into one another's eyes as they often did these days. At moments like this, Celestina felt as though she couldn't get away or pull her eyes away. But neither did she want to. She wanted to be trapped within his eyes for the rest of her life.

"I love you," he said quietly. "I always have, even since I knew how to say the word. Ever since I was a boy."

Celestina took in a deep breath. Hearing those words made her heart sing, but they also made her body tense. She desperately wanted him to love her, for she loved him. But to love her meant so much damage to him, to his reputation.

"I love you too," she muttered, not wanting to leave him without an answer. Besides, it was true. But how could this work? How could a handsome duke and a disgraced widow ever work in the world as it was?

"Celestina, it's been such a long time since I've wanted to say this," he said. The joviality between them turned to seriousness, a moment of deep emotion rather than light jollity.

"What is it?" she asked. She lowered her eyes, not wanting to look at him. This was the moment she had been worried about. She could sense it. Sylvia knew this the night before; it had been the sparkle in her eyes.

"Celestina Thorpe—for you'll always be a Thorpe to me—will you marry me?"

Celestina sucked in the air between her teeth. It was both wondrous and terrifying. How could she answer him? How could she give herself to him?

She swallowed, looking down at her lap for a long moment. When she finally looked up at him, the pause had been long, pregnant, and she could see the fear in his eyes.

"Goodness, Richard, I'm sorry."

"It's no, isn't it?" he said, alarm across his face. "You don't want to marry me, and I've made a dreadful fool of myself. Good Lord, Celestina, I thought everything was going so well and—"

"Richard! Richard, stop," she said, half chuckling at him. "It's not no. It's just that I have some concerns."

He breathed out, pursing his lips to let the air pass slowly. "All right," he said. "What are your concerns? Perhaps I can allay them."

She nodded. "All right," she repeated, then prepared herself to tell him all the worries and anxieties that had been building up in her head for days—weeks, even. "I am worried that you will wake up one day and realize I am not a good choice. And then … then you'll reject me."

To her surprise, Richard burst out laughing. It was such a belly laugh, almost never-ending, and she blinked at him, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes once the hilarity had died down.

She looked away, annoyed. "I don't think it's very fair to make light of my worry."

Richard sat up straight, leaned over, and took one of Celestina's hands. He looked into her eyes and paused.

"I have loved you forever and intend to love you forever. There is nothing you could do or say to make me not love or reject you. No matter what you think, you are a good choice, Celestina. I love you and want to spend my life with you."

"But what will people say?" Celestina cried. "A handsome duke has no business marrying an old widow like me. It's unfair to the other young ladies who hadn't already had a chance."

Richard laughed again, but this time, it was an endeared chuckle. He raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently. "I don't care about any other young ladies," he said. "And I don't care what people will say. I only care about you."

The tingle of love began to spread across Celestina's chest, her tangle of worries slowly unwinding. Except for the biggest one, the one that caused the largest knot.

"What about children, Richard? Are you not worried if I am barren? David was desperate for children and …"

Richard shifted along the picnic blanket so that he was sitting so close to her that she could feel his warm breath on his cheek.

"I care not for children. It would be nice—of course it would—but you are the most important thing in the world to me. Anything else is just a bonus."

She turned her head sideways to look at him, a tentative smile growing.

"Are you sure?"

He kissed her knuckles again, starting at her thumb and working down each one. "It would be happy if it were just the two of us in a tiny hut on some godforsaken land, Celestina. I would be happy if I could only have you on the streets. I love you wherever you are, and however you are, regardless of the rest of the world."

"Really?"

Her whole body had begun to thrum. It was not like anything she had ever experienced with David. This was true love.

"Really," he whispered. "So let me ask you again. Celestina Thorpe, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

She grinned, the final threads of anxiety blown away in the wind. "Yes, I would love to."