Page 22 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

C elia approached Alexander’s rooms with trepidation.

Aurelia was in her rooms, terrified of the consequences of the night’s events, too frightened of their father to return to Banfield House. She was even more afraid of the swift-winged rumors that must be flying from one corner of the capital to the other now.

It would mark the end of Aurelia’s social life before it had even begun. The poisoning of the well. The twilight of her life before she had even reached her twentieth year.

All of that was bad enough, but Celia also had to contend with her husband.

We married to kill a scandal and ensure respectability. This will undo everything. I cannot guess how Alexander will react. Will he insist that Aurelia leave the house? If so, I will leave with her!

But that was an unpleasant prospect. With both of his daughters disgraced, Cornelius Frid may send them both to Uncle Cuthbert and Aunt Hilda.

A life of strict rules that was not far from prison, in Celia’s mind.

She did not doubt that they were good Christians, but their zealotry when it came to religion did not make it comfortable to be a house guest.

“That must not happen. Aurelia would not be able to cope. But where else would we go? Father has our dowries—we have no other source of income.”

She talked to herself as she walked, wringing her hands and trying to find a way out of the problem.

As she reached the door to Alexander’s rooms, Peggy came hurrying out, clutching a letter. She curtsied hurriedly when she saw Celia.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace. But His Grace has given strict instructions for this letter to be sent out immediately, and I must let Tom know that he’s to deliver it.”

Tom was the footman who had come with the carriage from Cheverton, and now to Finsbury after the disaster at Almack’s.

“Very well, Peggy. Who is he writing to with such urgency?” Celia asked.

Peggy glanced at the closed door and then back at her. “He has sworn me to secrecy, Your Grace,” she whispered.

“Even from his wife?” Celia pressed with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Your Grace. It has me all in a tizz, I don’t mind telling you. I’ve almost dropped it once already!”

With that, the letter slipped from her fingers to the bare floorboards. Celia smiled and bent to retrieve it. She glanced at it, seeing the name Archibald Wainwright, Fenchurch Street . She handed the letter back with the address facing down.

“Hurry along, Peggy,” she urged, receiving a grateful smile from the old maid as she hurried away, her shoes clicking on the floorboards.

Why is he writing to that man with such urgency and at this hour? Who is he?

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and then opened it. Beyond was a dark and empty room, bereft of furniture or life. The fireplace was dark and cold, and the walls were bare.

She saw a door on the far side of the room, a sliver of golden light shining beneath it. She went to it, knocked again, and opened it a second later.

Beyond was a study. A fire glowed in the hearth, as did two lamps on either end of a desk. Behind the desk sat Alexander. He was writing rapidly, glancing up as Celia entered.

“How is Aurelia?” he asked.

Celia stopped halfway across the room. A dusty, threadbare rug covered the floorboards, doing little to dispel the cold that seemed to cling to every room. As though years of neglect had led to ice forming in the core of every board and brick.

“She is beside herself. I have given her some hot milk to calm her and settled her in my room to try and sleep. I’m not sure she will. She is very afraid of this evening’s consequences.”

Alexander leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers on the top of the desk.

“She is right to be afraid. This kind of scandal is difficult enough to manage when the couple can get married. But even if I thought he was amenable to it, I would not wish for Aurelia to be shackled to a man like Phillip Grimaire.”

Celia was surprised by his reaction.

On the ride back to Finsbury House, he had been angry, reticent to talk in the carriage, and even once they had arrived, he had immediately fled to his rooms. Celia had been fully occupied with comforting her sister and had little mental capacity to spare to wonder about his mood.

But she had feared the worst. Now, though, she could see compassion in his expression.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“The son of a financier. One to whom I owe a great deal of money. And a more vindictive viper you could not hope to find. He will not walk away from the humiliation he received this evening.”

“But surely if his father is a respectable man, then—” Celia began.

Alexander raised a hand. “His father is wealthy enough that scandal will not concern him overmuch. He is immune to scandal because so many of those who would look down upon him need his money. How did she come to be involved with such a rogue?”

Celia heaved a sigh. “All I could glean is that Aurelia met him through Miss Dunnings. They were introduced at a garden party, where Miss Dunnings agreed to chaperone Aurelia. I should like to know what Lavinia was thinking, facilitating the introduction.”

Alexander smiled mirthlessly before rising from his desk and rounding it. He leaned against the edge, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at her. She gazed back resolutely.

“I came here to discover your intentions. Something in your manner tells me that I am about to find them out,” Celia said.

Alexander arched an eyebrow. “Really? And what do you think my intentions are?”

“To expel my sister and me, and annul our marriage. To wash your hands of my troublesome family once and for all.”

Alexander watched her intently for a moment.

His stare made her feel naked, but she refused to squirm before him. The memory came back of a time, just a couple of hours ago, when he had made her squirm. When she had squirmed deliciously with unadulterated delight.

Is he thinking of what we were doing when Aurelia screamed? Does he want to be back in that garden, hidden by shadows?

She tightened her grip on her skirts.

“I am sympathetic. I know the kind of man Phillip Grimaire is. Aurelia would not have known.”

Takes one to know one.

Celia felt her suspicions may be uncharitable, but she could not help it.

“But that does not change the fact that you are tainted by another scandal because of a member of my family,” she pointed out, daring him to come right out with it.

If it will happen, then let it happen quickly.

“You are right. But it does me no good to wash my hands of the Frid family. I will be blunt; I need your dowry, or else Hyacinth’s debut will be at risk. That need becomes even more urgent if I have made an enemy of Sir Nathaniel Grimaire.”

Celia’s relief was tempered by her disappointment that Alexander’s motives were purely mercenary. After she had experienced his passion breaking through his glacial self-control, she had hoped for more. Even the barest chink in his armor, a hint of feeling towards her.

So, I am to be merely a bag of gold to clear his gambling debts, am I?

Her cheeks colored, and she looked away. She felt the onset of tears, but they were born of anger and frustration, rather than sadness.

Alexander reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

“All will be well. I have written to a man whose services I have used before. We met him this evening—Archibald Wainwright. I will give him the task of mitigating this scandal when it rears its head. There is a good chance that no one was able to identify your sister. Aurelia’s name may not even be in people’s mouths.

But if it is, Wainwright will find out.”

Celia took a step back, withdrawing from his touch. She hugged herself and crossed the room to put some distance between them.

“That is well,” she said in a brittle voice. “Thank you. We are both most grateful.”

“I sense hostility, and yet I am innocent. I have done nothing except try to help?—”

“To protect the source of your funds. Am I to become a bank for you?” Celia snapped, unable to contain her bitterness.

Alexander frowned. “We both understand the nature of our marriage, do we not? To squash the gossip and obtain your dowry as payment.”

“Payment?” Celia hissed. “Do you hear yourself? How am I supposed to feel when described in such a way?”

Alexander pushed off the desk and walked towards her. She stood her ground, refusing to back down.

“If you had illusions that this was some grand love affair, those were your own illusions,” he said.

“Love affair!” Celia barked. “Love? I have harbored no such illusions nor given you cause to believe so. This is far from love; it is two people trying to make their way in a world that desires nothing more than to drag them down.”

“What do you want from me?!” Alexander roared. “! You attacked me, and I ended up tangled with you on the floor…”

“With the chains that I had used to shackle you to me,” Celia added sarcastically.

“But it wouldn’t have mattered how long we were rolling about on the floor, if not for the enmity you apparently earned from Miss Dunnings,” Alexander spoke over her, and her mouth dropped open.

“For witnessing her with her lover and daring to tell the truth—much good it did me. I should have kept quiet and allowed you to be cuckolded. You were engaged to her, were you not?”

Celia had never felt so angry. It was a fire that roared up inside her to match the lust that Alexander always seemed capable of stoking within her.

Anger at the world for believing Lavinia.

At her parents for thinking the worst of her.

At Alexander for seeing her as nothing more than a means to fund his rakish lifestyle.

At the man who had tried to take advantage of Lavinia.

But most of all, she was angry at Alexander. It was as though all of her desire was being used to fuel the fire of her anger, making it white hot.