Page 16 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

“ B egging your pardon, Your Grace, but I must build up this fire, or you will catch your death,” Peggy said after placing a tray on Celia’s bedside table, bearing tea and toast with jam.

She threw back the curtains, and pale daylight flooded the room.

Celia blinked. Her hair felt damp, as did her pillow. A pile of clothes lay on the floor, also looking damp. Her head ached fiercely, and her mouth was as dry as sand.

“Catch my death? Why would I?” she asked sleepily.

With one foot still in the dreamworld, she thought that she should not have been alone.

“Is His Grace here?” she asked, remembering who she had been with the night before.

“No. I’ve not seen His Grace since the wedding, Your Grace.”

“Might I have a cup of tea, please, Peggy? I am rather parched,” she requested, sitting up. “He was here last night. Or rather, on the grounds.”

It was all flooding back to her now.

As Peggy poured a cup of tea and handed it to her, Celia froze.

She remembered the flirtatious conversation with Alexander.

Remembered his rejection of her. Remembered getting up, hurt, and not wanting to be in his company a moment longer, then losing her balance because of the wine. Dragging him over the edge with her.

“Oh my, we fell into the pool together!” she exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Peggy’s eyebrows shot to her gray hairline, but she was too professional to speak out of turn. She busied herself with the fire.

“He plied me with wine and suggested some mad adventure at his childhood haunt,” Celia added. “I need to be more careful around this man.”

She felt irritated. She had been drenched because of the wine, which had caused her to lose her balance and fall. She could have drowned or hit her head on a rock. And all because she had imbibed wine that she was not used to. Offered by him.

Something in the set of Peggy’s shoulders told Celia that the old servant had different opinions on the subject.

“Have you been in the Duke’s employ for long, Peggy?” she asked.

“Since before he was born, in the service of his father and grandfather, Your Grace,” the old maid replied.

“And would it surprise you to know that he turned up here in the middle of the night, the worse for drink?”

That was hardly fair. He had not been the worse for drink and had openly said that he was unused to it. Or, that he did not care for wine, at least. But that might just mean that wine is not his favorite, but some other drink is. Brandy or whiskey, perhaps.

“Very much so, Your Grace. He was never one for strong drink or any behavior that might reflect badly on his name. Never saw a man who took his duties more seriously than His Grace. He took after his father in that way, if no other.”

Celia considered this against the little she knew about Alexander.

His reputation was that of a rake. A carouser, seducer, and gambler.

A man who had wasted the fortune he had inherited.

But Peggy had known him his entire life, and her view was decidedly different.

So, what was the reason for this difference?

“His reputation is very different from the man you have just described,” Celia commented. “You may speak freely, have no fear. I would like to know my new husband better, that’s all.”

She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

Peggy had risen from the fireplace and nodded decisively.

“Very well, Your Grace. I don’t entertain gossip.

There’s enough of it among common folk; nobles are supposed to be different.

I don’t know why His Grace allows it, except he’s always been the kind to keep his business to himself, if you know what I mean.

Having that so-called gentleman Wainwright at the house wasn’t the best idea, if you ask me. ”

Celia frowned. “Wainwright? Who is he?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that he writes one of those scandal sheets that the young maids like to gossip over. I’ve had to scold them for it over at the big house more than once. If Mr. Mullins knew they were reading such tripe, he’d fair have their hides.”

Celia was bewildered, trying to keep up with the names. It did not help that her head felt as though it were filled with wool.

“Mr. Mullins?” she echoed.

“The butler at the big house,” Peggy explained, “where I worked after His Grace locked up this old place. I worked here before that, since I was a girl.”

Celia sipped her tea.

Alexander had associated with a man who wrote for a scandal sheet. Why?

“You want to know more about the Duke?” Peggy continued. “You have a better chance talking to the Dowager Duchess.”

Celia considered that.

The Dowager Duchess hadn’t been the most welcoming when she had been introduced to Celia at the wedding breakfast. In fact, she had been downright suspicious. Hyacinth, on the other hand, had been very friendly.

I think Peggy has a point. What better way to get to know my new husband than to talk to the family who knows him best?

Alexander’s character was a mystery. Why would a man maintain a reputation contrary to his nature, particularly when that man was a duke and stood to lose a great deal?

“That is an excellent idea, Peggy,” Celia enthused. “I think it is high time that I went to the big house, as you call it, and made the acquaintance of the Dowager Duchess and Lady Hyacinth. Would you kindly instruct the driver to bring the carriage around?”

Peggy looked uncomfortable, even wringing her hands, as she stood beside the fire, unable to meet Celia’s eyes.

“What’s the matter, Peggy?”

“I’m very sorry, Your Grace, but this house is short on staff. It’s a shocking state, if you ask me. There are no stables to speak of, and no maids except me.”

Celia nodded to herself.

It was clear what Alexander’s plan was, then—to sequester her in the estate farthest from Cheverton. To provide her with the bare minimum, depriving her of the comforts she would have enjoyed at Banfield House, the home of an earl.

Was he seeking to drive her away with his behavior? Did he want her to become increasingly fractious and argumentative? And would he then claim, once his purposes had been served and scandal squashed, that they were incompatible and that there was no reason why they should remain married?

Celia dismissed Peggy, assuring her that everything she had said would remain secret and that she was very pleased with her candor.

The relief on the old maid’s face was evident. Celia realized that Peggy had never been comfortable revealing what she knew about her master, that she was a very loyal old retainer. But equally, she could not stop herself from obeying the orders of her new mistress.

Celia made a mental note not to put Peggy on the spot again, to spare her from feeling conflicted. That was the kindest thing to do.

She sat back against the pillows and contemplated her next move. She could do precisely as Alexander wished—staying at Finsbury House meekly and quietly, not rocking the boat and not attempting to integrate herself into his family.

Something inside her refused to be meek. She had not been meek when caught sneaking out of Banfield House dressed as a man. She would not be meek now, when she had done nothing wrong.

I will not sit here in this moldering prison, waiting on Alexander’s pleasure. I will go to the big house, and I will get to know those who live there. I am, after all, the mistress of that house, and the sooner they accept that, the better.

It was not difficult to get to Cheverton, though it was located on the other side of London. Celia had grown up in the city and, in addition, was used to walking its streets.

She hailed a cab, quite comfortable doing this, and instructed the driver to take her to Cheverton Estate.