Page 33 of The Duke Disaster (The League of Extraordinary Widows #1)

“ Edmonds, there you are. I did hope you hadn’t been sent to India yet.” Celia waved at the butler. The day was fine, with just a hint of chill, heralding that winter was near. The leaves of the large maple tree just outside the breakfast room window had turned from green to a shocking display of gold, red, copper, and burnt orange.

Nearly matching the apricot roses, always on the table.

“I believe New South Wales is more the destination the duke has in mind, Your Grace. There are apparently incredibly large spiders which will attack and then feast on me.” He gave a mock shiver. “Sounds terrible, doesn’t it? A fitting end, the duke insists.”

Celia adored Edmonds. A kindred spirit, given to sarcastic quips but also devoted to Oliver. The two were also quite good friends. She’d caught the butler sipping brandy with her dour duke late one night, smiling to herself as she shut the door behind them so as not to scandalize the rest of the staff.

Her duke was not nearly as rigid as before, although Heartlesswood occasionally made an appearance when they’d still been in London. But not here. Edmonds had said that the duchess had rarely stayed at Hartwood House, which explained why everything at the estate wasn’t coated in her exacting presence. And why Oliver didn’t care for London.

He had not pressured Celia to wed immediately, though in light of events, that might have been prudent. The Barnes cousins were aghast at their duke having taken up with the notorious Mrs. Barnes. And while she and Oliver had hardly been indiscreet, they hadn’t hidden their relationship either. Their betrothal had been announced after a few months of them merely being lovers, which had caused an uproar along with a great deal of scathing, snide whispers.

The disapproval and gossip had been difficult for Oliver—she returned home one day to find him rearranging all the furniture in her drawing room—so Celia had soothed him with a delicious custard, which she’d licked off his body. On her knees. During a picnic in her bedroom.

They’d departed for Hartwood House two days later.

Celia had taken great pleasure in writing to her brother and informing him of her newfound happiness. James hadn’t replied. He had been far too busy trying to manage his gambling debts, which had suddenly come due. Perhaps he might have gone to Lord Claremont for assistance, but Claremont had retreated to the country, along with his disapproval.

However, Oliver and Celia had not been spared the worst of the Barneses.

Sir Richard, perhaps the most discerning of all the cousins, had dared to arrive at the duke’s country estate. Uninvited. Declaring he was there at the request of the entire family, Sir Richard had placed himself in Oliver’s study, pompous lips fluttering in irritation.

You cannot possibly mean to make your mistress a duchess.

Oliver reminded his odious relative that the largesse of the Duke of Hartwood was not dependent upon the approval of the Barnes cousins. And if Sir Richard objected, perhaps he should live on the meager earnings of his own estate.

Sir Richard was not invited to dine or stay the night, as his departure was imminent.

No more visits came from the Barnes cousins. Oliver had an excellent team of solicitors who managed things in London, and it was their duty to deal with the family. He and Celia would have to return to town eventually, but at present, they preferred to reside in the country. They’d been wed in the small chapel on Oliver’s estate, far away from the prying eyes of society and the Barnes cousins. Eleanor and Minerva had attended the simple ceremony and each, surprisingly enough, had brought a guest.

Celia still wasn’t sure of all the particulars, especially in Minerva’s case. But her second wedding day had been splendid, unlike her first.

“Spiders?” Oliver walked towards them, having overheard the conversation with Edmonds.

Celia’s heart fluttered in that ridiculous manner at the sight of her husband. She hoped the sensation would never fade. His hair was tousled, and a bit of straw was stuck over one ear. Mud caked his boots. Cravat loose, clad only in his shirtsleeves. So bloody magnificent, Celia couldn’t believe he was hers.

I belong to you, Celia. Until the end of my days.

He’d whispered those words to her on their wedding day, just before he’d kissed her, rather passionately, before the vicar.

“In New South Wales,” she answered, going to him. “Edmonds claims you want the spiders to eat him.”

“Devour, Celia. I wish him devoured by spiders. But death by crocodile would be much worse,” Oliver said, turning to Edmonds. “I think your impertinence deserves such a fate.”

“Correct as always, Your Grace. Do keep me posted on your decision.”

“Have your things ready, Edmonds. Packed. Immediately after the festival.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The butler strode off with a smirk, already directing two of the maids, who carried pitchers filled with cider.

Celia laughed and leaned into her husband, arms circling his waist. She could already smell the smoke of the bonfire. Cider and dancing wouldn’t be too far behind. She snuggled closer into his warmth. This was love, bergamot-scented and muscled. Overly tidy. Sometimes, Celia intentionally ate scones at tea without a plate, because the result was often being ravaged atop them.

“I promised you the festival, did I not, my autumn?” Oliver hugged her tight. “I believe that was your sole condition for marrying me.”

“I should have asked for something more,” Celia joked, sliding away from him. “A new wardrobe.” She teased, backing away from him, watching with satisfaction as he made an animalistic sound and lunged for her. “Or jewels. Lady Rosh has a tiara.”

“You don’t give a fig for jewels.” He tried to grab Celia, and she danced away. “I could give you paste, and you’d never know the difference.”

“True. True. But I fail to see your point.”

The heat in his eyes was unmistakable as he stalked towards her with purpose. “Come here, my duchess. I have something to show you.”

Celia laughed merrily as her husband chased her.

And finally caught her.

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