Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Mr Edward Willoughby is here to see you, Mrs Courtenay," Sylvia said, walking into the parlour with Edward trailing behind.

Celestina suppressed a groan, wishing she could disappear entirely. When David was alive, she had pleaded with him to stop inviting Edward to the house, and he had agreed. Now, nothing was to stop her late husband's business partner from appearing on her doorstep at all hours. Celestina no longer had that protective barrier between them.

"Celestina," he drawled, approaching her with his arms held out as if for an embrace.

His voice made her shudder, and she hated that he had taken it upon himself to call her by her given name rather than maintaining some level of propriety—and distance. She should have warned Sylvia not to allow him in. The butler, of course, had known, but alas, he could no longer act as a barrier either.

"Mr Willoughby," Celestina said through pursed lips, not bothering to get up from her seat in greeting for fear that she would give him the wrong idea. " Another visit. To what do we owe the pleasure this time?"

"Come now, Celestina," he drawled, sitting down beside her quite without invitation. "We're far too familiar for such formality. Call me Edward. As for the purpose of my visit, why can't a gentleman call on a dear old friend in her hour of need?"

He was far too close to her. Celestina tried to shuffle further along the couch without him noticing, lest he think her rude. She held herself tense and stiff, acutely aware of where every part of her body was—and, more importantly, where every part of his body was. Though he had never done anything so bold as touching her before, she would not put it past him.

He was a handsome man in a way, she supposed. His soft brown hair was streaked with a distinguished grey, and his brown eyes were alive and full of vitality. He had a strong jaw and an imposing posture, but he held himself with a certainty that bordered on arrogance. Indeed, even if he was attractive physically , his personality was nothing if not ugly.

Almost a foot taller than her, he towered over her, making her want to shrink away from him. She often wondered whether this was the outcome he was looking for or whether he truly did want to gobble her up as her fear told her he did.

As a man, he was consumed by bitterness and jealousy, always wanting what his fellow men had. His flirting with Celestina was proof enough of that, and it had got so bad that even David had noticed. His eyes, though bright, were likewise full of cunning, and the way they stared made Celestina feel as though she were being undressed.

"You are too kind," Celestina replied, thinking he was anything but. "You have already offered your condolences. You visited after the funeral, don't forget. I do appreciate being in your thoughts, but there really is no need to go out of your way to—"

"Nonsense," Edward said, slapping his knee. The word came out with such a force that the rotten scent of his morning meal followed it. Celestina held her breath and turned her head, not wanting to inhale any part of him, especially not that part.

Suddenly feeling as though she couldn't take anymore, Celestina darted up from her chair and headed for Sylvia in the corner. "Tea!" she declared with a note of false brightness to her voice. "Would you care for some tea? I'm sure Sylvia will—"

"No, thank you," Edward said.

Celestina looked over her shoulder and shuddered again. The man's lascivious expression made her feel physically sick. He was so cocksure that he quite openly looked her up and down, his tongue running over his bottom lip and leaving a trail of moisture. She turned and puffed out her skirt to better hide the shape of her body. If she could have buried herself beneath a pile of blankets, she would have.

Instead, ever the polite hostess, she sat on the chair opposite him, perching on the very edge and sitting with her back perfectly straight, her hands folded neatly—demurely—in her lap.

She forced herself to smile, all the while willing this man out of her house. She would far rather Sylvia stay in the room than leave her to make tea, but she had no choice but to offer again. It was the done thing, after all. She could almost hear David's chastisement at her rudeness and lack of amenability.

"Are you sure?" she said. "Sylvia wouldn't mind putting a pot on."

Edward's eyes flicked to the maid, then back to Celestina, and he frowned. "Yes, I must say, I was quite surprised to find a maid answering the door. Your financial misfortune has, I'm afraid to say, become the talk of the town. You know what these gossips are like. They're nothing short of vultures."

And I'm sure you had nothing at all to do with it , Celestina thought bitterly, her eyes narrowing.

"I am grateful for your concern, Edward, but truly, there is no need. Sylvia and I have come to an agreement."

"Good," he said, eyeing her carefully. He didn't seem overly pleased by her reply, but she didn't much care. "That is good," he repeated. "It's important to keep our friends close, isn't it? That's why I'm here, actually."

Except we are not friends.

"Oh yes?" She tilted her head to show willingness, though inside, she wanted to grind her teeth. No, she wanted to grind him underneath her heel.

She couldn't think of a single thing she liked about the man, and it had been the same since they met. David had trusted him, leaving Celestina no choice but to put up with him, but she found him sly and deceitful despite never having evidence for such a claim.

And now it seems he won't leave me alone.

"Yes." He grinned at her and crossed his legs, placing his hand on his knee. Great golden rings glinted from almost every finger, and he had the hands of a man who had never done a day's manual work in his life.

"I'm here, quite plainly, to offer you some financial assistance. It seems David left you in a rather poor position. To leave you nothing at all seems … unfair, to say the least, though I suppose he wasn't expecting to die so soon nor so suddenly."

Celestina frowned, suddenly more irritated than uneasy. She didn't need assistance from anyone, least of all Edward Willoughby. Her position was indeed precarious, but she would find a way to survive. She always did.

"About that," she said. "It makes no sense."

"Not to one who was not privy to his affairs, no. He kept you in the dark about a lot of things, my dear."

She shuddered again at the endearment. "I see. But he was wealthy when we married. And then there was my inheritance from my parents. And the business deals—David was always so good at those. How did he manage to lose everything?"

"What he was good at, Celestina, was making you believe what he wanted you to believe. Alas, I'm afraid to say that business was not so good."

"And yet, the poor business decisions have had little to no effect on you. Forgive me for saying so, Mr Willoughby, but you still display all the behaviour of a wealthy man."

She nodded towards his rings. He glanced down at his hand and wiggled his fingers, making the gold glint in the sunlight pouring through the window. His lips twitched into a smirk, though he didn't comment.

"And, more so," she continued, "I wonder how you can offer my financial assistance when, in truth, we should be in the same boat, as it were. After all, my husband's failing business was also your business. Did you not experience the same shortfalls as he?"

Edward's smile was humouring, the one given to children or the simple-minded, and Celestina felt her fist clench beside her.

"It is with great regret that I must reveal that David squandered his money on what can only be called useless ventures. The man had a way of making people believe he was a good businessman—why, he did so with me, so don't feel bad for being so fooled. I was far too trusting.

But the truth is, he was in great debt with the bank, which is why you are about to lose your home. And that, in truth, is why I am here. I came here to tell you that I have several properties currently without tenants. I would like to offer you one if you are willing. To stay in, I mean. I couldn't bear to see you on the streets."

His ingratiating expression was enough to make her want to scream. She would rather live on the streets than give in to this man. She would never accept his offer, no matter how bad things got.

"But it still doesn't make any sense," she continued, refusing to let it go. "Why was my husband in such dire straits? He always told me that things were good."

"He would, wouldn't he?" Edward shook his head, his eyes full of a pity that Celestina didn't want. "Listen. David was always chasing the ‘next big thing'. He spent money where he shouldn't have, excited by whatever latest prospect was laid before him.

Whenever I questioned him about the debt, he would always tell me he would earn it back before anyone noticed. Before it became a problem. I don't suppose he was expecting to die so young. That, Celestina, is the cold, hard truth of the matter."

"I see," she repeated. The tension in her shoulders had travelled up her neck and settled on her forehead, prickling her temperament.

Edward huffed, and Celestina sensed his irritation at being questioned. He would have preferred the quiet, docile Celestina, she was sure.

"I tried to help. God knows I tried," he said. "But David was far too proud to accept financial aid. My only hope now is that you do not make the same mistake, my dear."

Celestina suspected there was more to this than met the eye, but Edward was right when he said she had not been privy to her husband's accounts, and she had no proof to the contrary. But she had trusted David and believed him, and even after his death, she believed he'd been an honest, good man.

Edward, on the other hand …

She said nothing for a long moment, thinking how best to broach the issue. Finally, she opened her mouth and inhaled deeply. "Thank you for the offer, but I really—"

"Come now," he interrupted, a hint of pleading in his voice. "Don't be foolish like David was. As I said, I have quite a variety of properties available. I'm certain we could find one that suits you well."

And then you'll have me in your clutches.

She massaged her aching forehead, her eyes screwed up against his presence. "As I said, it's most kind but—"

"At least think about it," he interrupted again.

She forced herself to open her eyes and look at him, even to smile at him. "I will think about it." She got up from her chair and walked to the door. "Now, if you don't mind, I—"

"Oh." He pouted after this third interruption. "I thought perhaps I'd take you up on that offer of tea now."

She almost scoffed, stopping herself just in time. Instead, she threw him a pained expression. "I'm sorry, Edward," she said in the sweetest voice she could muster. "I really, truly am. But I have quite the headache coming on, and I feel I need to lie down for a while."

At least that seemed to engender a little genuine pity in him. He nodded understandingly, then stood up. "I am not surprised, what with all the stress you're currently under," he said.

He walked up to her until he was so close that she could smell the sweat festering beneath his woollen suit. She took a step back, gulping in the clean air.

"I appreciate your kind words."

"And remember," he said. "You are not alone. As a friend of David's and yours, I am here for you. Do think about my offer, won't you?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Of course. Good day, Edward."

He nodded at her a final time, then slipped through the door. Celestina returned to the couch and fell onto it with exhausted relief. Her excuse of a headache was not a lie as such, but she suspected that without him in the room, she would recover quickly. He was horrid, and she would do all she could to avoid him.

She'd just closed her eyes when another gentle knock came on the parlour door.

"I'm sorry to disturb you again, Mrs Courtenay," Sylvia said. "But there's someone else to see you."

Celestina sat up straight, curious as to who it might be. Thanks to David's jealousy, she had no friends to speak of, and all her family had passed.

"Who is it?" she asked.

Sylvia lowered her voice and then mouthed with some exaggeration, "The Duke of Exeter."

Celestina frowned. "The who?" she asked. She had no idea who the duke was—she certainly had never met him. An image of Richard popped into her mind. Didn't he have an uncle who was Duke of Somewhere or Other? She chewed her lip to try and force the memory, but it didn't come. Besides, why would Richard's uncle be visiting me?

She shook her head of the nonsensical thought. She had her childhood friend on her mind, that was all.

"Shall I show him in?"

"Yes, yes," Celestina said, getting up again and brushing down her skirt. If a duke, of all people, was on her doorstep, she couldn't very well turn him away.

Sylvia was gone less than a minute. When she returned with the duke in tow, Celestina gasped and fell back onto the couch in shock. She stared up at the man open-mouthed.

"Good Lord," she muttered. "It's you."