Page 301 of Desires of a Duke Collection

CeCe woke later that afternoon, feeling much better. Mariah had left a note for her, which she read before rising from bed.

CeCe,

I hope your rest has raised your spirits. I am pleased to say that your mother was doing much better when I spoke with her. I’m sure you will find her well on the way to recovery. Please come for supper tonight. Your mother has already approved it, and you need a well-deserved break from the sick room. Do say you will come! I will send Charles around to pick you up at 8:00. Until then, my darling girl!

Mariah

CeCe closed her eyes, offered a little prayer of thanks, and then ordered her lady’s maid, Yvonne, to alert the kitchen that hot water would be needed for a bath.

CeCe’s rooms were quite large and decorated in peach. Damask curtains from France ran from ceiling to floor, covering the large windows and flanking her four-poster bed. The China pitcher and washbasin, which had been in the family for over 200 years, were hand-painted with a pastoral scene. The settee by the window had dozens of pillows to make it feel cozy. CeCe loved her room, from the rose wallpaper to the Austrian rugs. It was comfortable and familiar.

Yvonne poured another bucket of warm water into the bathing tub and alerted CeCe that her bath was ready. Pulling the silk chemise over her lady’s head, Yvonne helped CeCe into the tub.

Yvonne went to get the jasmine-scented soap that her lady favored. “Will we be washing your hair, Miss Celia?”

CeCe had her eyes closed, and her head rested against the lip of the tub.

“Yes, Yvonne, I suppose I should. I should have plenty of time for it to dry before I go to Rotherford Hall.”

CeCe sat up, and the water slid down her slender body. As she waited for Yvonne, she looked down at her breasts.

“Do you suppose they have stopped growing? I had such hopes for a curvy woman’s body, and I vow that I’ve looked the same since I turned seventeen.”

“You are beautiful, Miss Celia, very feminine,” Yvonne said, dumping a large bucket of water over CeCe’s head to rinse. “I hope I’m not being impertinent, miss, but it would seem that we women always want what we don’t have.”

CeCe wiped her eyes clear from the water. “How so?”

“Well,” Yvonne answered, “I would love your tall, willowy frame. Clothes always fit you so beautifully. But I am short and curvy; I can’t even wear your gorgeous cast-offs because you have an excellent fashion sense. No matter how I would wish it otherwise, I will never be tall and slender. Does that make sense? I want what I can never have.”

Yvonne helped her from the tub and began to dry her off.

“Yes, I understand you perfectly. You are saying, ‘Why can’t we just be content with what we were born with?’ And, of course, you are right.”

CeCe was silent for a moment as she put on clean, silky drawers and underwear, a new shift, and her cozy robe.

“Yvonne?” CeCe asked as she sat in a chair close to the fire to dry her long, auburn hair.

“Yes, Miss,” she replied as she tried to work out the tangles.

“How old are you again?” CeCe tilted her head to try and see Yvonne, who was behind her with a comb.

“Hold your head still, Miss, or I might accidentally pull your hair.”

“Oh yes, sorry about that,” CeCe murmured, turning her head to face straight ahead.

“I am six and thirty years old this year, Miss.”

“How old were you when you were married?” Yvonne’s husband, Dan, worked in the stables at Mangrove Manor and kept the horseflesh in tip-top condition when the family resided in London.

Yvonne momentarily thought, “I was shy of seventeen years, Miss.”

CeCe contemplated. “I am four and twenty, almost five and twenty, and I still have no desire to marry. What is wrong with me?”

“You just haven’t met the right one, Miss. You will see.”

“How do you know?” CeCe cried. “I’ve been proposed to nine times! Then, if you count Spencer, who asked me when he was nine. None of the gentlemen seemed right to me.”

Yvonne plaited her hair and turned CeCe to face her. “You will know by the wild thumping of your heart at the sight of him. You will always want to be near him and be willing to do just about anything to see to his happiness.”

“You make it sound so easy,” CeCe moped. “I think staying unmarried would be much more comfortable and easier.”

“You are right. It is easier. However, to have true happiness, you should be willing to risk your heart. The road to love is riddled with heartbreak, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

CeCe looked at her uncertainly.

“Oh,” Yvonne winked, “and the marriage bed isn’t too bad either.”

CeCe blushed while laughter escaped her. “I wish you’d tell me more about that.”

Yvonne went to the wardrobe to pull out a gown for supper. “The rose one, Miss, or perhaps the robin’s egg gown that dips in the back?”

“The blue one, I think, Yvonne, will be the perfect choice.”

CeCe held still while Yvonne finished getting her dressed and styled her hair in a simple yet stunning chignon. A diamond pendant necklace with matching dangle earrings completed her ensemble.

“Thank you, Yvonne,” CeCe called out merrily, dressed to the nines.

Noticing she had an extra minute or two, she quickly checked on her mother before Charles arrived to take her to Rotherford Hall for the evening.