Page 10 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

T he wedding was small and quite unlike anything Celia had imagined for herself. Her parents and siblings were present to fulfill the need for witnesses and appearances’ sake.

The Duke of Larcher stood for Alexander. He was young and handsome in a clean-faced manner. Not the sort she imagined to be friends with an incorrigible rake. Apart from him, there were no others on Alexander’s side of the aisle.

Surely a sign of his character. No one of substance wants to celebrate his wedding. And yet, what have I seen personally to indicate that he is a terrible rogue? Has he tried to seduce me? It could be seen that way, but I feel equally culpable for those moments.

These thoughts raced through her mind as her father walked her down the aisle of the chapel on the grounds of Alexander’s home, on the outskirts of London’s western fringes.

He had looked her up and down as she stepped out of the carriage that had carried her across the city, from Finsbury to Kensington.

“You look beautiful, daughter,” he had said in a voice that was husky with emotion.

It had been enough to make tears well up in her eyes. The first hint that her father still loved her, that he might even forgive her.

Please, Lord, let him see it in his heart to forgive me. I do not believe that everything that has befallen me was my fault, but I will accept all the blame if I need to just to earn my father’s forgiveness.

Alexander had waited for her at the altar, hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He had glanced over his shoulder at a whisper from the Duke of Larcher. Glanced, then casually looked away, only to look back a heartbeat later. His eyes remained fixed on Celia.

She could not help but look back at him. Even knowing that their marriage was not based on love but necessity, that it was a sham to them if not everyone else, did not negate the warmth she felt at the feel of his eyes on her.

She bit her lip unconsciously, her heart thundering.

Her father gently patted her hand. “All will be well, dear,” he whispered. “You are a Frid, never forget that. No piece of paper will ever change who you are.”

Her mother had smiled as she passed her, and her father handed her to the waiting groom.

Celia stood beside Alexander, looking into his eyes. And saw… something. The glimmer of an emotion that a bride should expect to see in the eyes of her groom. Then, it was gone, as though a door had slammed shut.

Alexander’s face became impassive, and he looked at the priest, not looking back at Celia for the rest of the ceremony.

At the wedding breakfast, Celia was introduced to a pretty woman of middle years with auburn hair and bright green eyes. With her was a younger woman similar enough in looks that Celia concluded she was her daughter.

More guests had been invited to the breakfast, held in Cheverton’s dining room. Celia had entered on her husband’s arm to a round of applause, led by the Duke of Larcher, who was the most enthusiastic of all.

Celia could almost believe in the wedding, convince herself it was real. It made her sad that this was simply for appearances’ sake. A gesture to say that there was no scandal to be seen here. No gossip to be had.

“May I introduce my mother, Violet, and sister, Hyacinth,” Alexander said.

Celia blinked and must have looked confused.

Hyacinth laughed and pressed a kiss to Alexander’s cheek, having to almost jump to reach high enough. Violet smiled indulgently and then looked solemnly at Celia, inviting the question.

“You do not seem old enough to be Alexander’s mother,” Celia offered.

“That is because I am not. Xander indulges us by referring to us as mother and sister. I was the second wife of Alexander’s father. My daughter and I are step relatives, but we have been a close-knit family, especially after my dear husband’s passing.”

Hyacinth beamed, hugging Alexander’s arm. “And he knows I love it when he introduces us so. Family is so important, do you not think?”

Celia’s sadness grew, but she smiled through it. “I heartily agree. I value my own immensely.”

Violet pursed her lips, looking her up and down. “I have heard rumors to the contrary,” she said finally. “As, I suspect, have many in this room.”

Celia wondered how much they knew. If they were a close-knit family, would they not be aware of the bargain their son had struck to save his name?

“I am a good and decent person, fallen victim to ill fortune,” Celia declared.

“As have I,” Alexander echoed.

Celia looked up in surprise, thinking it a rebuke aimed at her. But he was looking at his stepmother.

She looked away, shrugging. “But you are a good, kind, and honorable man, Xander.”

“As am I, Your Grace,” Celia insisted.

“Oh, what fire, Mother!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “I like her already. Much better than that ghastly Lavinia Dunnings.”

Celia found herself smiling at the young girl’s blatant enthusiasm. It reminded her of Aurelia.

She looked away from the table at which she was seated with Alexander, Hyacinth, and Violet. Her parents were seated a few feet away, but she could see no sign of Aurelia.

So, she could not bring herself to attend my wedding breakfast. Perhaps she is with Lavinia. Have I lost my sister to her as well as my old life?

The morning wore on with the customary speeches and toasts. Music was played for the entertainment of the guests, and, after breakfast, they mingled as was the wont of such people at any gathering of more than half a dozen.

Alexander was a constant presence at Celia’s side, but showed no more flashes of warmth. Celia spoke to Hyacinth at length about a range of subjects. The young girl was a solace, without whom she did not know how she would have made it through the wedding breakfast without losing her sanity.

If my marriage to Alexander is to be lonely and isolating, at least I will not be completely alone. I think the Dowager Duchess could become a firm friend. I certainly will need her.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The tables will now be cleared to make room for the dancing!” the Duke of Larcher boomed over the babble of conversation.

There was a noticeable increase in the excitement in the voices of the guests at the announcement. They moved to the sides of the room while servants cleared and carried away the tables, leaving a space in the middle of the room.

“As is customary, the first dance belongs to the bride and groom!” Larcher proclaimed.

Celia looked at Alexander, who bowed to her formally and offered his hand. She accepted it to polite applause, and they stepped into the middle of the room.

The dance lasted less than a minute. Celia was whisked around in a stately waltz without her husband once looking her in the eye. Once others began to join in, he excused himself and left the room.

Moments later, the Duke of Larcher stepped in. “Duchess?”

Celia looked around, wondering who he was addressing.

He cleared his throat. “That would be you as the wife of a duke.”

She blushed. “Of course, Your Grace. I am not used to considering myself a duchess.”

“Alexander has some urgent business to attend to. He has asked me to ensure that you want for nothing. May I?”

He offered his arm, and when she accepted, he led her back into the dancers.

They began to dance, gliding gracefully, Larcher leading with practiced ease.

“You must forgive Xander. He is under a great deal of stress,” he explained.

“I am under the same stress, but I am prepared to put on a show for everyone,” Celia said tartly.

“You are, and it is an excellent show. I know the truth about your marriage.”

“Your Grace…” Celia began.

“Please, I would be your friend as well as Xander’s. Please call me Maxwell,” he said quickly.

“Maxwell, I am gratified that you know the truth and do not blame me. It seems that everyone does. In my family and his.”

Maxwell smiled sympathetically, nodding. “That is because of all the guests here, only the Dowager Duchess, Hyacinth, and I know the secret Alexander has been keeping. If you knew it, you would understand him better.”

Celia saw Aurelia enter the room, moving around its periphery and watching her. She disappeared from view when a group of dancers stepped between them.

“Secret?” she echoed, recalling Maxwell’s words. “Please enlighten me. I wish to understand him better. I am desperate to. The years of marriage will be long if they are spent in my current state of ignorance.”

Maxwell shook his head emphatically. “That is not for me. I swore not to reveal it. But I can see how he is portraying himself, and I will not stand by and let you think him a villain. He is not.”

Celia looked hard at him, trying to guess what this secret might be.

Perhaps he is not the rake that people say he is. In which case, why is he in debt? That does not happen to decent, cautious men. Look at my father.

“I am glad to have an ally in this. I have been given a reputation that I do not deserve,” Celia said. “I am a decent person and mean no harm to anyone. I swear it!”

Maxwell smiled. “I do not judge based on rumors or gossip, but on what I see and hear. I believe you, Celia. You have already shown yourself to have more character than Xander’s former betrothed.”

Celia couldn’t help but smile back. His boyish grin was infectious, and his expert dancing made her feel lighter than air.

There was joy in dancing when it was done well. It had always transported her, and she felt it now.

“And are you married, Maxwell?” she asked. “I feel no wedding ring on your finger.”

“I am not. That pleasure awaits me still, though I now find myself bereft of my partner’s support when promenading or attending balls. Xander was a useful foil for my boyish charms. His glower made me seem sunnier by comparison.”

He laughed, and Celia laughed too.

As they executed a turn, she saw that Alexander had returned. He was staring at them with an odd look. Finally, he started across the room towards them, interrupting them by taking Celia’s arm.

“Maxwell, dear boy, may I cut in?” he asked.

“But of course, old friend. It was my pleasure to make your friendship, Celia,” Maxwell said, glancing at Alexander and then winking at Celia.

Alexander swept her away, catching her in a frame she fell into instinctively.

If I did not know better, I would say he was jealous!

He certainly held her closer than he had, his fingers tighter as though savoring the opportunity to hold her rather than just touch her.

She suddenly felt that she could not have broken free even if she had wanted to. His hold communicated strength but also made her feel safe and secure. His eyes might be cold and his manner abrupt, but his embrace was masculine and protective.

“I thought you had left,” she said, looking up at him.

He glanced down, his eyes unreadable. “I could not, for appearances’ sake.”

“Is that why you cut in? For appearances’ sake?” Celia asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Your duty was done. No one noticed you leaving. Nothing would have been lost had you remained absent. And I was enjoying dancing with Maxwell,” Celia said.

Alexander’s eyes flashed with a cold fire. His mouth tightened, the movement reminding her of his kiss. She could rise on her tiptoes now and kiss him. No one would bat an eyelid at a wife kissing her husband.

Celia felt her cheeks flush at the notion.

How odd that I had not thought of it before. We are married now. I could kiss him in public, hold his hand, or throw myself into his arms. And it would be acceptable because we are now married.

There were twin spots of color in his cheeks, too, and she wondered if his thoughts were moving in the same direction.

“Are you thinking of seducing Maxwell?” he asked.

“Of course not!” Celia scoffed.

She stumbled, and he corrected their steps, not missing a beat.

“It did not seem that way from the outside,” Alexander remarked.

“So you were jealous,” Celia said.

Alexander laughed, but it sounded hollow.

“Will there be anything between us that a husband and wife would normally be expected to share?” Celia asked.

“Such as?”

“Will I share your bed?” she said boldly.

Now, it was Alexander who stumbled.

The music came to a halt, and the guests applauded. Alexander did not; he stared at his wife before seeming to remember where he was.

Did he perhaps intend to continue those moments we have already shared? Those moments of intimacy that we both regret? Do I find myself wishing that it were so?

“Celia, might I have a word?” Aurelia asked.

She had approached as the dancing drew to an end.

Alexander leaned close and kissed Celia’s cheek. “I will not trouble you at night, rest assured. But if you think Maxwell is easy prey, you will be disappointed. He is a very moral man.”

The implication that she was immoral made her anger flare, but she did not want to waste this chance to make amends with her sister.

She returned his platonic kiss. “As are you, perhaps? Maxwell insisted that you are not the man you are portrayed to be.”

That gave her the satisfaction of seeing him look stunned.

He glanced in Maxwell’s direction. Celia used the chance to leave with Aurelia, taking her arm and letting herself be led across the room.