Page 313 of Desires of a Duke Collection

CeCe came into her bedchamber and threw herself on the bed without changing out of her riding habit. ‘Why am I so stupid?’ she thought. ‘How can I live without him in my life?’

Then a terrible thought crossed her mind. ‘What if I have thrown away my closest confidant and best friend in the entire world?’

CeCe’s head began to ache alongside her heart. Her vision blurred as hot tears spilled over onto her cheeks. ‘Perhaps she could give marriage a chance?’ But the moment she even considered it, the feelings of dread overtook her.

A barrage of memories flooded her mind:

“I don’t give a damn how you feel about it. I said I am going out,” CeCe heard her father shout, followed by the slamming of the door. CeCe, at the tender age of nine, had easily ducked under a banquet table in the front hallway so that neither parent could see her. Glancing through the table legs, she saw her mother holding her stomach with one arm and her trembling lips with the other.

CeCe had never heard her parents fighting before. It confused her greatly. They had been so terribly excited to share the news with Father. There was going to be a new baby. A long-awaited blessing, Mother had said.

But Father hadn’t been happy. He was furious. And now Mother was hunched over, clutching her stomach. Her face contorted with pain as she cried out in between sobs. Something was very wrong.

CeCe, uncertain what to do, slipped out of her hiding place unnoticed and raced up to the kitchen. “You must help mother!” She pleaded with the first servant she could find.

“Whatever is the matter, Miss?” The young housemaid had replied.

CeCe, out of her mind with worry, shouted at her. “Hurry! Mother is in the foyer. I think she’s hurt. Get help!”

She yelled so loudly that Cook came running. Moments later, Nana was there to take CeCe upstairs to the nursery. She promised Mother would be right as rain come morning, but CeCe wasn’t convinced. Nana hadn’t heard the anguished cries or seen the devastation written on Mother’s face.

CeCe had glimpsed Doc Curry’s curricle coming up the drive before Nana had closed the curtains. CeCe was dreadfully sorry that Eli was away at school. Never in her life had she ever felt so scared.

It was the next morning before Doc Curry left Mangrove Manor. Mother had remained in her chambers for nearly two weeks. Her father hadn’t returned. Not when Mother had needed him and not in the two weeks while Mother was ailing. CeCe couldn’t understand what was keeping him away.

Nana had explained to her that sometimes babies weren’t just ready yet for this world, and God had to give them a little more time with him. None of it made sense to CeCe. All she knew was the carefully crafted world she thought they’d lived in no longer existed.

It was five years later—when CeCe was four and ten—she’d written to her father, begging him to come and visit the ancestral home. Surely, she’d reasoned, he’d want to visit them for the Christmas holidays.

He’d refused. Just as he always did when she’d asked for him to come. The excuses were all the same. He’d ‘business in town’ to tend to. If it wasn’t parliament or his club, it was a new horse or the hunting season. There was always an excuse to not be with the family.

CeCe couldn’t fathom that the Baron didn’t love his children. Didn’t every father love and care for their offspring? Just as any proper English gentleman should—from a distance.

However, it weighed on her mind. He hardly knew them. He didn’t know their favorite color or which primary lessons they’d preferred. He was unaware of any talents they possessed. Perhaps he might wish to know if CeCe could sing or play the pianoforte—she couldn’t. Or if she had a deft hand with the needle—not even close.

CeCe had felt jealous of the time Eli spent in their father’s presence in London, learning about his duties as the heir. The Baron had seen to it Eli had the finest education that money could buy. There was no expense to be spared when it came to his son.

Despite having two children, CeCe often wondered if he even remembered her name.

It wasn’t until CeCe had made her bow to society that she began to piece things together. CeCe noticed that her father and mother were rarely seen at the same event. Her father had moved out of the London townhome when they had come to town. And didn’t bother to visit them while they were there.

On rare occasions, he would drop in at her mother’s favorite event to host—the Mangrove Musical. But they never spoke and never stood within ten feet of each other.

The final blow came during CeCe’s debut season. While CeCe was in hiding from Mr. Townhouse behind a large fern in Ogilvy’s ballroom, she overheard two matrons gossiping.

“The Baroness is resplendent than ever despite the depths of depravity the Baron throws her way. I truly don’t know how Eloise holds her head up; I could never bear it,” a nasal voice whined.

A cruel laugh sent a shiver of revulsion up CeCe’s spine. “You didn’t hear it from me. But she’s just an upstart that spread her legs for a title.”

“You don’t say,” the first woman wheezed in delight. “Well then, that’s what happens when you trap someone at the altar.”

Her conspirator snorted in agreement. “Indeed, she got what she deserves. A faithless husband and a cold bed.”

The first speaker wasn’t even attempting to be discrete. “Can’t have sour grapes when the man parades his mistresses of his all over London. If it isn’t some opera singer, it’s an actress or two. Say, I heard at the last Mangrove Musical that Lady Mangrove mistakenly asked his paramour to be the entertainment.”

The matrons tittered, fully aware that they could be overheard.

CeCe felt as if her heart had stopped thumping in her chest. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

“Who is the latest flavor these days?” The whiney voice asked.

“God only knows. The Baron changes mistress’ about as often as a lady changes her wardrobe.” The pair exploded into meanspirited cackles.

CeCe felt sick inside. The ballroom had become overly warm, and her dress was unbearably tight. A pounding headache was forming behind her eyes, and she felt like casting her supper into the greenery she’d been hiding behind.

Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder Father didn’t stay at Mangrove Manor. No wonder Father had refused all of her overtures to visit them. You can’t very well parade your light skirt in front of your respectable family. Only, if these gossipmongers were correct, Father had done during Mother’s favorite event, the Mangrove Musical. How cruel could one man be?

The problem wasn’t that he couldn’t be with them. It was that he wouldn’t. The line had been drawn in the sand and the Baron had chosen the path that led away from her, from them.

Pushing away from the palm, CeCe faced the older matrons who had the decency to pale upon seeing just who’d overheard their spitefulness.

With a regal nod that she certainly didn’t feel, CeCe turned and walked away, ignoring the tittering that ensued the moment she’d begun to move away. Suddenly, the ball, London, and everything along with it seemed pointless. CeCe had wandered aimlessly until reaching the library. It was there she flung herself upon the sofa and let the emotions, too heavy for her to contain, run free.

It hadn’t been long after that Eli found her there. Her cheeks were ruddy, her nose red, her face covered in tears, and her heart was utterly broken.

It had been that very night that CeCe had sworn to herself she would never let a man have that kind of power over her. Those hateful women had no right to scorn and make fun of her mother. Baroness Mangrove was ten times the lady they’d ever be. She’d made it that far without the Baron and CeCe would do the same. No man would have that kind of power to hurt CeCe again.

Elias had taken his twin into his arms and allowed her to grieve the Father figure she’d built up in her mind and the family unit she’d longed to have. He assured her that he would always be there for her—no matter where life took them.

That had been years ago, but the pain from the night felt as fresh as if it were yesterday. CeCe was half-tempted to run to Eli and insisted that he make things better. But there were some things even twins couldn’t share. Eli had a good heart. CeCe didn’t worry about him becoming like their father. But she worried that he would try to convince her that she was wrong to forgo marriage and a family.

No, it was better to face this alone. CeCe cared deeply for Charles. That went without question. But marriage? The cost was too high for her to pay.

Wiping the tears, CeCe sat up and rang for Yvonne. After requesting a healing powder and some tea to relieve her headache, She limply allowed Yvette to disrobe her body and put her to bed.

CeCe had asked Yvonne to alert the family that she had ‘the headache’ and was retiring for the day.

Yvonne brushed CeCe’s hair back and placed a cold compress on her forehead. Then after promising she would return that evening with a light supper, she left the room.

CeCe knew that Yvonne was concerned for her. The older woman’s face was as easy to read as a book. She hated even the thought of worrying her maid. But this was too much for her to hide away. CeCe couldn’t pretend all was right with the world. Things were dreadfully wrong and quite possibly would never be the same.

There were so many uncertainties and not nearly enough answers to soothe her aching heart. CeCe turned her head and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

**

Later that night, her mother, the Baroness, entered her chambers to check on CeCe. The first thing she noticed was that CeCe’s tea and supper hadn’t been touched. Pulling a chair beside CeCe’s bed, Eloise caressed her daughter’s cheek. In the firelight, CeCe looked an awful lot like the young scamp who had raced after her brother and the Rotherford boys, insisting that she could do anything they could.

Something was troubling her daughter, and that much was apparent. A mother doesn’t stop being a mother when her children are grown. She still wants to brush their troubles away and cuddle them close to her side.

Smoothing CeCe’s hair away from her forehead, Eloise removed the compress that had fallen to the side. Then she leaned over and brushed a tender kiss on her daughter’s forehead.

Unable to leave her side, Eloise tucked CeCe’s blanket around her and then settled back into the chair beside the bed. She would soon go to her own bedchamber for the night, but not yet—she needed a little longer.