Page 29 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

“You have no idea how much.” Diana giggled. “I can’t wait to meet this little one, to know what he or she is like.” She patted her stomach. “I’m so impatient to meet them. Wouldn’t you be?”

Celia hesitated. She had so long ago sworn off marriage that she had never even factored in the idea of having a baby of her own. She took a sip of port, delaying having to answer as she considered the idea.

She was utterly devoted to her nephew, Violet’s son. She loved him dearly, but could she imagine having a child of her own?

In her mind’s eye, she saw a little boy with a shock of dark red hair like her own. When she saw his grey eyes, she shook her head madly.

There is only one man I know with gray eyes. What is wrong with me?

“Have you not thought of children?” Diana asked, clearly reading her mind.

“Not really.” Celia shook her head. “I’ve never thought of marriage. I’m a matchmaker, aren’t I?” She forced a smile, rather relieved when Diana smiled too.

Celia knew her wish to never marry might not last. Her father was ill. It was one of the reasons her parents had decided not to join her on this trip. He preferred to stay at home. He mightsomeday insist that Celia marry just so she was settled before he left this earth.

I cannot do it!

The determination broke through suddenly. She wouldn’t end up like her poor cousin, Charlotte. She would survive, she would defy any man that would leave her to suffer.

“It really is hot in here, isn’t it?” Celia said distractedly, pulling at her neckline again. “I think I need another.” She gestured to her glass. “Do you?”

“No, thank you.” Diana shook her head, for her glass was still full. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Completely fine.” Celia walked back across the room, aware that the pain in her leg was getting worse.

As she took hold of the carafe, she felt a little dizzy. She planted her palm on the table to steady herself.

This is not the aftermath of passion. This is something else.

“How hot is it in here?” Celia said, suddenly aware of the sweat running down her forehead. She put down her glass and tried to mop her brow with the back of her hand.

“It’s not so bad. It’s much cooler than the ballroom. Celia? Celia?” Diana’s voice became frantic. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Perhaps the heat is just getting to me.”

Celia tried to turn around. Perhaps she needed a seat. Yes, that would help with the dizziness. But as she reached for the nearest chair, she felt the world slip sideways.

“Celia!”

Diana must have run toward her, for Celia could feel Diana’s hand on her own as she tried to steady herself on her knees.

“It’s too hot,” Celia mumbled. “I…” She used her other hand to mop the back of her neck. It was as if she had been bathing—it was drenched in sweat. “Something’s wrong.”

“I could have told you that. Celia!” Diana urged. “Come, let’s get you to the bed. I’ll send for a physician at once.”

“Maybe that is a good idea.” Celia did her best to stand. Unable to do so on her own, Diana took the brunt of her weight. “You’re with child. Don’t carry me.”

“What else am I supposed to do!” Diana complained.

“I’ll be fine, I can make it there.” Celia stood straight but then regretted it at once. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just lie down on the floor.”

She took one step forward, and before she could even think of bending down and curling up on the rug, she felt everything slip away. Where she should have been able to see the bed and an array of candles, she only saw dark spots clouding her vision. Then everything went completely black.

“Celia!”

She was dimly aware of Diana shouting to her. There was also another voice. It was much deeper. The honeyed baritone was unmistakable, but she also knew it was impossible.

I’m imagining him, conjuring him up in my dreams now.