Page 1 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

“ D o not be so ungrateful, for Heaven’s sake, Celia!” Cornelius finally exploded after spending the journey in silence.

Edna glared at him for the sudden outburst and patted Celia’s hand. Aurelia jumped, then fanned herself, taking out a cameo mirror to examine her elaborately styled hair. Only Celia remained unmoved by her father’s anger.

I must endure it, as I endured three months living with Aunt Hilda and Uncle Cuthbert at the vicarage. As I endured three months of being ignored by my father. I was foolish and reckless and brought scandal and gossip upon my family.

She gazed out the window at the steady drizzle that marred the warm July evening. The sky was overcast, which suited her mood.

“Well? Have you nothing to say?” Cornelius gruffed.

“What would you have me say, Papa?” Celia asked. “Thank you for arranging for me to marry a man older than you?”

She snapped her mouth shut around the anger that had suddenly bubbled up inside her.

I have no right! I must control myself. I must be grateful and humble.

“The eldest daughter of the eminent Earl of Scovell was caught dressed as a commoner, meeting with a lover in the back streets of London! That is what the scandal sheets have been saying. It has taken three months and a great deal of money to stamp it out. I have sued three publications, and I doubt that will be the end of it. All I ask is a show of contrition.”

“People will certainly think badly of you and us as a result,” Edna added. “People like my sister Hilda would be scandalized.”

“Only because she married a clergyman. Did you and Father not kiss before you were married?” Aurelia asked.

“That, as your mother will agree, is different,” Cornelius said, his voice softening for his younger daughter. “And no, we did not. Our marriage was arranged, and we accepted it gracefully. As Celia should.”

“Not entirely gracefully. I remember plotting to make your life a living hell for most of the first year. Until Celia was conceived anyway,” Edna said, leaning into Celia to press a kiss to her hair.

“Please do not undermine me, Edna!” Cornelius seethed.

“I was not meeting with a man,” Celia said firmly. “I merely wished to see the ordinary folk and capture their daily lives in my sketchbook. I go out and draw what I see.”

“Witnesses say—” Cornelius began.

“They lied. Lavinia lied,” Celia interrupted. “Because I saw her with a man. I drew them both. They were lovers. It was perfectly obvious just by looking at them.”

“She swore on the Bible, dear. There is no shame in being in love. Even with a man below your station. It cannot be allowed to continue, of course,” Edna said, squeezing her hand. “And your father has worked hard to secure your marriage to a decorated hero.”

Celia pulled her hand free. “I do not care what oath she swore. She lied!”

“Why would she lie?” Cornelius demanded.

“Because I saw her with a soldier—” Celia explained for the hundredth time.

Cornelius threw his hands up. “Stop! I will hear no more. We will ride in silence if you are not prepared to tell the truth.”

And so they did. For a while, at least. But then Celia could bear it no longer.

“I know that I am not innocent. That what I did was reckless and irresponsible. And for that, I am sorry. You have worked hard to secure this invitation for me, and while I feel there is a great injustice at work here…” She paused as Cornelius huffed and tutted.

“I was sneaking out of the house dressed as a man. I should have known better, and will endeavor to do the right thing from now on.”

Out of London, they rode and through the village of Knightsbridge, along the Great Western Road towards Kensington and Larcher House, where they would attend the ball hosted by the Duke of Larcher—and to redeem Celia in the eyes of the ton.

Larcher House was framed by a torchlit driveway, ending in an imposing house of red brick and white stucco, with a portico entrance and a forest of chimneys atop it. A canvas awning supported by poles had been extended out from the portico to meet the carriages that were disgorging guests.

Celia tried to imagine her suitor as a strong, tall, handsome man with steel gray hair and a noble countenance. He would be hard-eyed but chivalrous. Strong but gentle. Tempered by war but softened by the experience of love and loss of it when his wife had died.

She tried to hold onto that image. As she alighted behind her mother and father, Aurelia took her arm, holding it tightly.

“Do not worry, Celia. I’m sure he will be a fine man, and you will fall head over heels for him. In lust, if not in love.” She giggled mischievously.

Celia glanced nervously at their parents. “You are incorrigible. How can you say such things?” she whispered.

“Because they are true. Most people don’t admit it, but as long as two people want each other’s bodies, then it does not matter if they are not in love. You will see. I say, look at that fellow!”

They had reached the shelter of the doorway, and Aurelia had turned to look behind them.

An extraordinary man was approaching on horseback. He wore a cloak that flowed behind him and was bare-headed except for a mane of black hair. Reaching the canvas awning, he reined in his horse and vaulted from the saddle. Water droplets flew from his long hair as he shook it.

Celia felt her heart pound in her chest. He was tall, broad, and had a powerful frame.

He moved with the grace of a tiger, deadly and lithe.

Eyes the color of water beneath ice fell on her as they swept imperiously over the servants and other guests.

They lingered, holding her gaze for the span of a dozen heartbeats.

Then, he was before her.

“You are in the way,” he said in a voice as cold as his eyes.

Looking up at him, Celia felt an overwhelming urge to commit his cruel face to memory. She wanted to draw him—had never wished for anything more. He looked like a Viking earl, savage and dangerous.

“I’m sorry?” she gasped.

“I did not ask for an apology. Merely to be allowed to enter.”

“Celia, you’re in the doorway,” Aurelia whispered urgently.

The spell broke, and Celia realized where she was. Other guests were waiting to enter behind the pagan prince, and she was standing in the doorway. Standing and staring.

She blushed bright red and practically jumped aside. The man smiled, a tightening of his mouth. His eyes lingered on her as he passed through.

Is he laughing at me? By what right? He was not exactly polite. He could have been far more gracious. Not so much as an excuse me!

Celia opened her mouth to protest, but Aurelia took her arm and led her into the house.

The tall stranger was moving among the throng that filled the great hall beyond the door.

Celia watched him go regretfully as Aurelia steered her towards their parents and a white-haired, red-faced man wearing an officer’s red and white uniform.

He was round in the stomach and the face, clutching a full glass of wine in one hand and mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

Celia had a sinking feeling that this was the man her father had arranged for her to marry.

“Ah, there you are,” Cornelius said. “May I introduce Colonel Herbert Savage of the Essex Heavy Cavalry. My regiment in my youth and a proud one. Colonel, this is my eldest daughter, Celia.”

The Colonel’s smile was positively oily. Celia bobbed a curtsy as was expected of her. He pulled her up with a smile that felt like oil on her skin.

“A fine-looking lady, Cornelius. Very fine,” he praised. “Good pair of hips on her. Good for childbearing.”

Edna looked away with a hint of disdain on her face. Cornelius had the good grace to look embarrassed.

Celia reminded herself of the disgrace her actions had brought upon her family and simply smiled.

“Come and stand beside me,” Herbert ordered. “Let us be seen together so everyone knows you are to be my wife. What of the dowry, Cornelius?”

“Would it not be more appropriate to woo me before talking about how much you will be paid to wed me?” Celia huffed before she could stop herself.

Herbert turned narrowed eyes on her. “In private, that will earn you a slap. More of it and you’ll get a thrashing. Wives and horses respond to much the same treatment. As do soldiers. The whip.”

“Steady on, old man,” Cornelius interjected.

Herbert raised a hand to cut him off. “I won’t have my name disgraced the way yours was. I’m sorry to be so blunt. I see now why you were so keen to marry her off. Scandal and an insolent mouth—not an attractive combination.”

Cornelius directed a sharp look at Celia, who cast her gaze downward.

If this is what I must do, then I must steel myself. I can see no way out of it.

Looking up, she saw her husband-to-be drain his glass.

“May I fetch you a fresh glass, Colonel Savage?” she asked in a demure voice.

Herbert grinned. “Why yes, you may, Lady Celia. Kindly observe closely next time and have a glass on hand before I finish the previous one, eh? Oh, and find me a pork pie. Something substantial to eat that isn’t this French muck.”

She inclined her head and left in search of a servant.

A servant I shall be deliberately blind to no matter how many of them I see. I shall be away for as long as possible.

“I will help you, Celia!” Aurelia called out, hurrying after her.

They lost themselves in the crowd, arm in arm. Celia did not mention Herbert Savage, and neither did Aurelia. Both knew what the other was thinking.

Celia walked past three footmen bearing trays of wine glasses, wandering aimlessly until a voice from behind stopped them both.

“Aurelia! Over here, my dear friend!”

It was Miss Lavinia Dunnings, daughter of the Viscount Alvey.

“Lavinia! Oh, how beautiful you look. Is that a new gown?”

Celia turned to see her sister greeting Lavinia. She noted the use of first names by both women. They were acquaintances, friends even, to show such familiarity.