Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

“How could you?” Lady Alicia practically screeched as Celia scrambled to catch the scandal sheet.

By the time she was unfurling it, trying to read it, Lady Alicia had flounced off with her mother hot on her heels. The other women around them were now all whispering among themselves.

Celia was so concerned with trying to read the scandal sheet that it took her a few seconds to realize Grace had taken her arm and was dragging her away from the others.

They ended up far from the green, secreted in a copse of trees, just as Celia read the headline.

“Lady Celia,” she whispered as she read it aloud. “The extraordinary matchmaker beds her own client.” It took a beat for her to realize exactly what she had read. “Oh my God!”

“Let me see that.” Grace peered around her shoulder, reading the scandal sheet at the same time as Celia.

‘It seems that there are many who now go to Lady Celia for her matchmaking skills. The new Duke of Hardbridge, a somewhat unorthodox duke on his first visit to London, is her latest client. After matching him with Lady Alicia Newton at a house gathering, however, it seems that Lady Celia was reluctant to let go of her client just yet.

Perhaps Lady Celia needs to know allof her client’s needs before she hands him to a serious lady. This reader has learned that Lady Celia has been seen twice as of late entertaining the Duke of Hardbridge’s company in private, without a chaperone.

One can only wonder what is happening behind those closed doors, but one thing is for certain—Lady Celia is not just a matchmaker. One must fear whether she is making conquests of all her clients.’

“Oh, Grace!” Celia suddenly snapped, throwing the scandal sheet on the ground. Grace hurried to catch it. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me I have not just read that the Duke of Hardbridge and I… that we…” She broke off, bending double and resting her hands on her knees. “Oh dear, the whole of the ton will be reading it this morning. My mother will be reading this.”

The Duke of Hardbridge will be reading this too.

“Tell me I’m imagining it,” Celia begged, looking up at Grace, who was dumbstruck, now standing perfectly still as she re-read the article. “Tell me that does not suggest I am a… slattern.”

Grace flinched at the word, but she looked up, her face pinkening. “I… I…”

“Oh, Lord!” Celia needed no more confirmation. She stood straight, walking in a quick circle as she covered her face with both hands. “This is too awful.”

“It may not be as bad as you think,” Grace pleaded, though she still looked desperate as she read the article for what had to be the third time. “Everyone has always been a little suspicious of your experience, but in an excited sort of way. You were never condemned by the ton, only seen as fascinating.”

“Not now!” Celia waved a hand at the sheet. “Any suspicions they ever had about me were like smoke. This? This sets everything in stone. It says I have entertained the Duke of Hardbridge in private and intimates that I know… all of him.”

She covered her face, unsure what to say or feel.

She knew most of him, but not all of him, and how on earth had anyone even found that out? They must have somehow seen them at the theatre and the house, but who could have possibly known? Who would have seen such private actions when she had not been aware they were being watched?

“It may in time all blow over.” Grace tucked the scandal sheet under her arm and moved to Celia’s side.

She took her arm and started dragging her back through the park, only this time, they kept to the smaller and much more private paths.

“You would not be the first lady to have suffered scandal, would you?” Grace reminded her, arching her eyebrows. “So many of us have known it, but it blows over.”

“It blows over when the man in question marries you.” Celia pulled back her arm, and they came to a stumbling stop in a clearing between the trees. “The Duke of Hardbridge would never marry me, Grace. He wouldn’t even contemplate it. I am not the sort of woman he’s looking for. He wants the opposite of me—someone meek, mild, obliging, and obedient. Are any of those things me?”

Grace bit her lip. “I do not know the man,” she confessed. “But I know scandal, and I know the first thing we have to do is get you out of here, Celia. Before we can bump into anyone else. Already those ladies will be spreading gossip about you being so audacious as to show your face in public after such a scandal.”

“Well, they should hardly be surprised about that, should they? Knowing my reputation for boldness.” Celia waved her hands at herself frantically. Grace barely managed to catch one of them and dragged her away again. “I might as well stand naked in the middle of Covent Garden. I’m not sure my reputation could be damaged any further by it.”

“This is not the time for jesting.”

“I’m not sure I was entirely jesting.”

“Celia!”

Yet, Celia wasn’t paying attention. She was feeling increasingly wild and foolish.

Somehow, Grace got her out of there. They ended up back at the small carriage they had shared on their journey to the park, where Grace bundled her in the back and gave the orders for the carriage to head to Celia’s house at once.

The whole time, Celia was numb. She sat in the back of the carriage, staring at the ground and breathing heavily.

It is my doing.

She felt shame. She felt unbelievable shame, for the rumors were partly true. She knew how horrified her mother would be, how furious that her daughter would be so unladylike. Through all that shame and numbness, another gut-wrenching thought came to her mind.

He will not come. The Duke of Hardbridge is probably making arrangements to go back to Scotland right now, so he can be as far away from me as possible.

“So?” Elizabeth said, standing behind Keith’s shoulder as he sat at the head of the breakfast table, staring down at the scandal sheet that Frances had presented to him only a few minutes ago.

Frances stood behind his other shoulder, the two of them towering over him, as he was the only one seated.

“Yes, so what are you going to do?” Frances asked.

“I’m still reading,” Keith muttered sharply.

“Reading? What more is there to read about?” Elizabeth’s voice pitched so high that he looked up. He couldn’t remember the last time his mother had been so panicked. “You have compromised her.”

“I don’t remember admitting to that,” Keith whispered.

“And would you deny it?” Elizabeth asked. “Keith, listen to me.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are the most honorable man I know.”

He grimaced—it was not what he thought of himself. He was a cold-blooded soldier who would one day turn into the brute his father had been. It was what he feared.

How many times as a child had he been told that he looked like his father? That he liked the same games his father liked? He was treading the same path—he was just a few years behind.

I won’t be like him. I refuse to let it happen.

“You are, Keith,” Frances seconded, as if she could somehow read his thoughts.

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows, but she only nodded in agreement.

“Do you deny you did this now?” Elizabeth squeezed his shoulder to get his full attention. “Would you run back to Scotland, deny any knowledge of Lady Celia, and leave her with her reputation so in tatters?”

Bile rose in his throat. He hastily took a huge gulp of coffee to push it back down. The mere thought of abandoning Celia now disgusted him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Keith said calmly as he stood up from his seat. Both Elizabeth and Frances backed away from him. “I need to understand this first. How can this story possibly have broken?”

He started pacing around the breakfast table, only for both Frances and Elizabeth to follow him, their anxiety palpable.

“That’s what everyone asks when they see their names in scandal sheets. No one really knows how they get their information,” Frances hurried to explain. “It’s presumed most of the writers are ladies or gentlemen of the ton. Someone must have seen you two together.”

“When were you together?” Elizabeth asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“I never confessed to the action, Mother,” Keith reminded her, walking around the table once more.

This situation was bad enough without suggesting that he had bedded Celia already.

“I’m asking because someone must have seen you. There must have been someone at both events who could have given your names to the scandal sheets,” Elizabeth hurried to add.

“Well…” Keith ran his hands through his dark hair, deep in thought.

On that night of the opera, all of Celia’s friends had been there, as had the Dukes. Yet, he found it hard to believe any one of them would give such a story to the scandal sheets when they were working so hard to protect her.

There was Lady Dawson and Lady Alicia, but now that Keith came to think about it, there were others too. He was certain he had seen Lord Crampton in the audience, and Lady Arundell had definitely been there, for Elizabeth had waved at her so enthusiastically from their box.

“Anyone could have seen us when we…” He paused, noting the wide-eyed, panicked look on his mother’s face. “When we talked.”

Behind Elizabeth’s back, Frances rolled her eyes and folded her arms. Clearly, she was not going to be persuaded so easily.

“What truly happened between you doesn’t matter.” Elizabeth shook her head. “What matters is what people think you did, and right now, they believe that you and Lady Celia have crossed every line imaginable. What are you going to do, Keith?”

She stepped toward him. “In the Highlands, sometimes such scandals can be brushed away, forgotten very easily. I’ve seen such things, but here in London, it’s entirely different. The ton remembers. Scandals are like scars—they never quite go away, especially if they’re ignored.”

He flinched. He stood tall, thinking about the way the material of his shirt brushed against the scars that stretched all the way down his back. He would have given anything to have a life without those scars, but that was not within his power. They would be with him, forever.

“Keith?” Frances whispered. “What are you going to do?”

“Did ye even need to ask me that?” He marched out of the house.