Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

“ W hat did you say?” Celia blinked.

She hoped this was a dream, that she had somehow made this up. Surely it was not possible that Keith was leaving already.

“I need to go back to Scotland.” He was now adjusting the cuffs of his coat, still not looking at her. “I’ve made the arrangements.”

She stepped back as footmen and his valet appeared, carrying a portmanteau and two other smaller bags down the staircase.

He packed fast.

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “You and I have been married less than twenty-four hours… You’re leaving? Now? This very moment?”

“Soon enough. When my horse is ready.” He turned around and walked out the door, apparently wishing to escape the house as soon as possible. “I’ll write to you about the house and estate. Aye, feel free to make any changes ye like. It’s yer home now.”

“I thought it was our home.” She stumbled to a stop at the bottom of the front steps as he halted on the gravel, his boots kicking up stones around him. Slowly, he turned around to face her.

“Do ye not remember what I told ye, Celia? When I asked ye to be my matchmaker, what did I say?”

She glanced around, but there was no one there to hear her. The servants were inside, bringing down more bags, as in the distance, horses were being brought out of the stables.

“I remember. I remember you wanting someone quiet and obedient.” She lifted her chin and folded her arms. “It didn’t quite happen like that, did it?”

“No. It didn’t.”

He looked down at her. For the briefest of seconds, she saw heat in his eyes. It was just a glimmer of the passion from the night before, as if someone had struck flint against steel in the darkness but there was barely a spark.

“I also told ye something else…” he trailed off and walked toward her.

Now that the horses were approaching him, he moved toward her so the servants couldn’t overhear him.

“I told ye that my bride shouldn’t want to be around me. Remember that?”

“Yes, but…”

That was surely a different time. He had been talking about a marriage of convenience really, a simple arrangement. He hadn’t expected the passion they had shared either, but he had embraced it with open arms.

“What?” he said sharply. That deep voice, which had so often been such a thrill, was now harsh and uninviting. “What did ye expect, Celia? What sort of husband did ye think I would make?”

“I thought…” She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

She felt empty. Mere seconds ago, she had been reeling at Frances describing her as being in love, and she had been quite ready to accept it. Yet, it seemed that love was not reciprocated.

“I warned ye.” Keith took a step toward her.

She supposed he was trying to look menacing as he eyed her cautiously. She didn’t feel daunted by that stare, though. She felt angry. Hot tears pricked her eyes, though she refused to let them fall.

“I warned ye again and again what kind of man I was, and what kind of wife I wanted.”

“And you married me anyway. We both know I was not what you wanted. Are you really so surprised now that I do not want to be here alone?” she countered, arching her eyebrows.

“What did ye think would happen now, Celia? In the name of God.” He stepped away, his voice rising. His staff must have sensed an impending argument, for they scurried off, apparently finding excuses to fetch more saddles, bridles, and supplies for their ride. “What kind of married life did ye think this would be?”

“I thought?—”

“Did ye think I would be content to be here?” He waved a hand at the house behind her. “That I would be besotted and stay by yer side like a lovesick pup?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. The image of you as a lovesick pup is an impossibility. You and I both know that.”

“Then what did ye think?” he said wildly, stepping back toward her. “Ye tell me, what did ye expect from me?”

He halted a single step from her, towering over her with his great height and broad shoulders. His eyes were fixed on her unblinkingly, those gray depths making her tongue-tied.

“I…” She broke the silence. She would not be cowed him. She never had been, and she certainly wasn’t going to be cowed now that they were married. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”

She looked him up and down. Everything fell into place. Maybe she was in love with him, but she rather thought she was in love with the idea of him, rather than the man he truly was.

“I thought nothing.” She took a step back from him.

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something more, but she didn’t give him a chance.

“Whatever I thought, it was silly, foolish—a mad idea that was a complete impossibility. After all, I’m just the silly, little wife that you never really wanted in the first place, am I not?”

He closed his mouth.

“That’s what you think, isn’t it?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Do you know something? I thought that of all men, at least I had your respect. How wrong I was. Why would you respect the woman you seduced so many times into your bed and have been planning to leave as soon as you possibly could?”

“Celia, this is for the best?—”

“Fine. Go, then.” She waved a hand at the carriage, having to speak louder and faster now just to keep her tears at bay. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “Disport yourself in Scotland. Enjoy your business. Enjoy your mistresses, for we both know you intend to take them.”

She spun around and marched back up the steps.

“Celia!” he barked, but she didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“When should we expect you back, Your Grace?” She reverted to using his title. There was no way on this earth she was going to call him by his name now. “As your obedient, little Duchess here in this house, I need to have the house ready for your return, don’t I? Maybe we’ll all stand on the drive, bowing and curtseying as you arrive.”

“Celia!”

“What?” She halted on the top step, turning to face him again.

He looked quite wild now, his coat billowing in the wind, but he didn’t follow her.

He won’t follow me. He has no wish to.

“When will you be back? It’s simply a matter of business and making arrangements now.” She waved her hand at him, impatient for his answer.

“Next spring.” His answer was sharp and curt.

“W-what?” she stammered. That lump was back in her throat, but it was bigger now. She swallowed past it and blinked fast, determined not to let him see how much he was hurting her. “That’s nine months away, at least! What if I’m with child?”

It hadn’t escaped her mind that it was perfectly possible after the last twenty-four hours they had spent together.

“Would a father not want to see their child when it was born?”

“If you are with child, then believe me, that child is better off without me.”

With no other words, not even a goodbye, Keith walked away. He marched toward his horse and flicked the reins over its head.

I cannot watch. I cannot watch him leave when these are his final words.

“What a fine goodbye this is,” she threw at his back. “Good riddance, more like.” She turned and marched off into the house.

In the corridor, Frances and Elizabeth stood together, muttering and pointing at all the cases and bags in alarm.

“What is it? What has happened, Celia?” Elizabeth asked, panicked.

“I’m sorry. I… I need to be alone.” Celia lost her battle with her tears. The first tear escaped her eye.

Covering her face as quickly as she could, she grabbed her skirt and ran through the house. She needed to get away, needed to hide as far away as possible. For one minute, she thought of taking refuge in her chamber, but that would only remind her of what she and Keith had done there.

Instead, she raced through the house to the back garden. She sprinted through the open door and out through the formal borders. She kept on running, even sprinting past the groundskeeper and the gardeners, who were busy pruning roses. She kept on running until the house started to disappear behind her.

She hadn’t yet been this deep into the grounds and only came to a halt when a lake appeared beneath a drop. In danger of falling in, she skidded to a halt on the grassy bank and stared down into the watery depths.

It was an unpleasant reminder of how she and Keith had met. How he had pulled her out of the water, wrapping her in his arms.

The tears came freely then as she dropped to her knees. Maybe she hadn’t understood that she was in love before, but she certainly knew now what she was feeling.

So, this is what heartbreak feels like.

Keith froze with his hands on the bridle as he heard Celia stomp away. It hurt to hear her go, but it had to be done. She would be safer without him.

It’s how it had started for his parents, wasn’t it? His father needed his mother, and though she hadn’t been particularly willing to get married, she had been open to the idea. What started as a need had spiraled into an out-of-control obsession and manipulation.

It only leads to pain.

“Keith? Are you leaving?” His mother’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He released the reins and turned around. His footmen were now loading his bags into a cart that would be accompanying him. Beside his mother stood Frances, watching the scene in wonder.

“I have to,” Keith whispered to his mother. He stepped toward her and lowered his head so only she could hear him. “It’s for the best. Ye know that.”

“Do I?” She frowned. “It seems more like you’re running away, Keith. You’ve only just got married.”

“And that is why I am going.”

She clearly didn’t understand him. She furrowed her brow all the more, but he didn’t have time to explain himself now. He vowed to himself that he would write to his mother, that he would lay everything out in ink for her to read through. He hoped that, in the end, she would agree that Celia would be safe and free as long as he was not around.

Like me, I’m sure she won’t want the past to repeat itself.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Frances said, stepping forward. “Keith… your wife?—”

“I’m going for good reason, Cousin. I assure ye. Now, as yer guardian, if anyone wants to court ye, I hope ye’ll send them up to Scotland to meet me first,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Though Frances smiled, Elizabeth did not. She looked rather teary-eyed, blinking madly.

“Ye have yer freedom now. Both of ye,” he said, his voice softening.

Frances stood taller, clearly pleased with the idea. He knew she would relish not having a guardian constantly at her shoulder. Strangely, Elizabeth didn’t look anywhere near as delighted with the idea as he thought she would.

“Mother?”

She nodded, showing she had heard him, though she was staring somewhat vacantly at the ground.

“Ye have always wanted to come back here, haven’t ye? It’s yer home.”

“It is, but…” She reached out a hand toward him, and he took it. “I wanted this to be your home too.”

“It’s a home. Of a kind.”

He didn’t want to explain himself now. He had a feeling if he did that, Frances would try to persuade him to stay, and he couldn’t risk that.

If I stay here with Celia, it will hurt us all.

“I’ll write to ye all. Now, I must go.” He embraced them both, then turned and swung himself onto the horse.

It only took a minute or so for his staff to be ready. The footman and the groom rode on the cart as he urged the horse forward behind them.

Turning back, he waved goodbye to his mother and cousin. His mother was crying now as Franes wrapped an arm affectionately around her and held her tight.

Keith’s eyes flicked up to the house next. It was true, he had come to think of this house as his home—a thought he would now have to discard.

In a window, he saw something move. He prayed it was Celia watching him go, but then he realized it wasn’t Celia at all but two maids looking on avidly.

Where is she?

He searched every window for her, wishing for one last glimpse of her spirited eyes and her wild red hair, but she was nowhere to be seen. Gutted, he turned away and faced the path ahead.

“Your Grace…” the footman called from the cart. “We cannot keep riding like this—we could break the cart.”

“We’ll push on for as long as we can. We can rest for the night at the next village.”

Keith knew he was being stubborn, but somehow, by riding with so much purpose and speed, he was helping to distract himself.

The steed beneath him struggled to pull his hoofs through the boggy ground as the rain fell, lashing them and the earth hard. It was even difficult to see the trees and the road ahead, for the rain had brought with it a sort of mist that made him feel as if they were the only people in the world.

“Woah, woah!” Keith had to calm the horse more than once as it threatened to bolt.

Lightening struck overhead. His horse and the stallion pulling the cart both reared back in alarm. The stallion nearly threw the cart over as Keith scrambled to keep control of his steed.

“There, girl. Calm yerself. All is well. I’ve got ye.” He patted her neck repeatedly. Her loud whinnies softened into snuffles and snorts.

“Your Grace, we could all die in this storm!” the groom shouted as he jumped down from the cart and steadied the horse with his hands on the harness. “Why do we have to ride so far and so fast?”

“I’m needed at my brother’s estate, and I do not want to waste time,” Keith called back to them as he urged his horse forward. “We’ll get through the storm.”

He heard them talking among themselves, some muffled sounds that he couldn’t decipher because of the wind and the rain. Keith had a feeling he didn’t want to know what they were saying. He could hardly blame them for the mutinous glances they were sending his way.

He would have been furious to be ordered out in this weather. As it was, he was willing to bear the brunt of the weather today if it just allowed him to get as far away from London as possible. As far away from Celia as possible.

Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

He turned around on the horse and stared through the mist. He had an eerie feeling, as if Celia was about to ride through that mist and challenge him to a race. Knowing the way they both were, he wouldn’t have turned her down, even in this atrocious weather. He would have done anything just to see her smile and the challenging look in her eyes.

Aye, I won’t be seeing that smile for nine months now, at least.

Her last words brought a mad idea to him. He pictured going back to the house and walking through the door to see Celia sitting in a chair with a baby boy in her lap. He wanted to embrace that image, but then he shook himself. He couldn’t indulge in such thoughts.

But then his mind betrayed him. He saw Celia again in that chair, only she didn’t have a baby this time. Instead, sitting beside her in another chair was her lover—the lover she had taken in the nine months that Keith had been gone.

The horse bucked as Keith lost his focus. He was nearly thrown sideways. He tightened his grip on the reins and roared his fury.

She cannot take a lover!

Somehow, his roar calmed his steed. She dropped her hoofs down, and Keith patted her again as he looked around.

This time, he caught what the groom and footman were saying to each other.

“Love makes men do mad things,” the groom whispered.

“Apparently, running away from it does too.”

“Aye, all right—we’ll stop for the night,” Keith relented. “It is foolhardy to carry on.”

He steered his horse, intent on leaving this muddy path and taking refuge in the town. As he rode away, he didn’t look back at the cart, for their words were now echoing in his mind.

Is that what I feel for Celia? Not just infatuation, but… love?