Page 3 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

“ G reenwood? No, I’m afraid you have me mistaken for another,” the man replied, frowning.

“I recognize you, Sir,” Celia said. “Your face is quite distinctive.”

“I am the Viscount Darnleigh. I have never held the rank of captain—or any rank, for that matter. And you are?”

Aurelia and Lavinia were looking at Celia as though she were mad.

But I know I saw this man before, and I remember exactly where.

“I have an excellent memory, Sir,” Celia insisted. “I saw you and…” She glanced at Lavinia, whose face was twisting into a glare. “… a young lady. I even drew you.”

Was it really Captain Greenwood that Lavinia had mentioned? If it was, she was playing a dangerous game by associating with him while her betrothed was around. Assuming Lavinia wished to be a duchess anyway.

His frown deepened, and then he smiled as though realizing something.

“You are the young lady who was caught dressing as a commoner, aren’t you? I recall there was something in that story about drawing. Weren’t you caught in some assignation with a peasant?”

“My sister does not consort with men, regardless of rank. She is an honorable person,” Aurelia asserted.

“And Lavinia has admitted to fabricating that particular tale,” Celia added. “It is untrue. Is it not, Lavinia?”

Lavinia glanced at Captain Greenwood—regardless of what he said, it must be him—and then back to Celia with an expression of concern.

“I actually relayed a rumor that I had heard. I did not start it. Such tales must come from somewhere. I would be careful not to throw accusations at people, if I were you.”

“I did not hear an accusation,” Aurelia interjected.

She visibly shrank back when Lavinia glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

When did Aurelia become so cowed by Lavinia? What happened while I was in the country for three months, waiting out the scandal?

“Aurelia, I have taught you better than that,” Lavinia chided. “One must always read between the lines. Listen to what is unsaid, as well as what is said.”

“Yes, Lavinia,” Aurelia said meekly, refusing to meet Celia’s eyes, her cheeks flushing bright red.

Celia’s temper flared. She’d had to accept culpability for the scandal that had tarnished her family’s name and could make it difficult for Aurelia to find a husband.

If she had not been outside dressed as a man, mixing with the commoners, then she would never have been vulnerable to Lavinia’s lies. But this was too much. Lavinia was behaving as though she were superior to Aurelia. Like an imperious queen to her courtier.

“Lavinia, it is not so much about what is not said as what is seen. A woman betrothed to a duke in the arms of another man. Seen and documented,” Celia drawled.

Lavinia’s eyes flashed, and Celia was conscious of the man claiming to be the Viscount Darnleigh looming at her elbow. She felt a momentary thrill of fear and reminded herself that they were very much in public.

He cannot hurt me, and neither can she. And I know that I am right. I will not allow myself or my sister to be bullied.

A servant was approaching with a tray of wine glasses. As he drew near, the Duke of Cheverton suddenly appeared and plucked a ruby red glass from the tray. He immediately dominated the small circle, a head taller than Greenwood and physically more imposing. He was an oak compared to a sapling.

Celia found her eyes drawn to him, even though she knew she should not stare, especially in front of his betrothed. But she was unable to help it.

He may just be the most handsome man I have ever encountered.

Her cheeks flushed, and her breath came in sharp gasps. To think of such a man in that way…

She felt like she was betraying herself. Her own feelings were treacherous.

The Duke looked at Lavinia and raised an eyebrow. “Do I detect tension?” he asked, glancing at Greenwood and looking away dismissively.

“No, dear. Merely a case of mistaken identity,” Lavinia said.

Celia watched as the Duke’s eyes narrowed at the endearment, a tension around his mouth. His already stony face became even stonier.

Lavinia was looking at her, and that drew the Duke’s eyes to her as well. They seemed to bore into her.

Celia felt his stare like a physical touch. She felt naked before him—a thought that made her knees tremble. She clasped her hands together in front of her, lest he see the effect of his gaze on her.

“And whom has been mistaken for whom?” the Duke asked without looking away.

His tone sounded bored. His voice was deep and mellifluous. The kind of voice that was made for the stage. Or the battlefield.

Celia opened her mouth to reply as he raised his wine glass to his lips.

At that moment, Lavinia moved, turning quickly and flinging out her arm as though to point.

Her elbow jostled the Duke’s arm, and the glass tipped.

Crimson liquid flew from the glass and splashed Celia’s face, chest, and down the front of her dress.

She screamed in shock, earning stares from those around her.

Lavinia’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but a smile tugged at the corners. “Oh, Celia, I am so sorry! I am so very clumsy at times. Your poor dress… it will be ruined!”

“And my coat!” the Duke snapped. “Whatever were you thinking, woman!”

Lavinia flushed and looked down.

Aurelia snatched a napkin from a passing servant to dab at the wine on Celia’s front.

“That will do no good at all. You must change and have the servants launder your dress. We must do this at once, or the stain will not come out,” Lavinia said in a voice that was surprisingly meek and humble.

“I do not have a change of clothes,” Celia huffed.

“No, but the Duke of Larcher has a sister who is about your size. I’m sure she would lend you one of her dresses. She is a very kind-hearted young woman,” Lavinia suggested.

“Very well. Take your friend to Lady Bethany’s rooms and help her change. You have drawn attention to us. I will try and find Larcher—I could not find him earlier—and see if he has a coat he can lend me. I do not like being the center of attention,” the Duke gritted out.

“Of course, Your Grace. Lord Darnleigh, it was a pleasure to meet you. Please excuse us. Celia, come with me. I know the way.”

Celia hesitated. The man who claimed he was not Captain Greenwood was watching her intently, and she did not like the look in his eyes. The Duke of Cheverton had stormed away, unbuttoning his coat as he went.

She was drenched in wine, which was settling into the fabric of her dress as she stood there. Lords and Ladies around them stared and smiled. Whispers rose in the air.

If I ask Papa to let me leave, he will be furious. This was supposed to be my reintroduction to the ton. It is important for Aurelia that the scandal is buried and forgotten. But now, I am the subject of whispers and gossip once more. I must get out of everyone’s sight.

She could understand the Duke’s avowed hatred of being the center of attention—it did not feel comfortable.

I do not know the way to Lady Bethany’s chambers, and I cannot stay here. I must trust Lavinia.

Lavinia had taken a step and now looked back, holding out an insistent hand. As soon as Celia took it, Aurelia made to follow.

Lavinia waved her off. “Go and let young men fill your dance card, Aurelia. Do not become involved.”

Celia nodded. “Yes, Aurelia. Enjoy yourself, and I will join you when I have changed my dress,” she said encouragingly.

Then, she let Lavinia lead her out of the room.

“I really am sorry, Celia. I know you probably don’t believe a word after everything, but I would never deliberately ruin a perfectly good dress.”

You would ruin a perfectly good reputation, though.

They raced up a staircase and along a passageway, then up another short flight of stairs before Lavinia opened a door and ushered Celia inside.

They were in a sitting room, a fire crackling merrily in a stone fireplace. Lavinia crossed the room and tried a door in the far corner, which turned out to be locked.

“Well, I did not expect her bedchamber to be locked. That is where her wardrobe is. But I spy a jug of water over there. That will do to try and blot the wine stains, and then we can dry it in front of the fire. Meanwhile, I will go and find Bethany and ask for the key so you can change your clothes.”

Celia unbuttoned her dress, keen to stop the permanent ruination she knew was progressing second by second. Lavinia fetched the jug and laid out the dress in front of the fire, applying water liberally to the stains before blotting them with a handkerchief.

“Lavinia, why are you doing this?” Celia asked. “We have never been close friends, and while I can believe you spilling a drink on my dress, this… helpfulness is somewhat out of character. I try and see the best in people always, but…”

Lavinia looked stricken, and Celia regretted her words.

There is good in everybody. Perhaps I misjudged her, and the gossip she spread about me was something she did out of pure panic.

She crouched beside Lavinia and took her hands. “I can see from your face that I was wrong. I am sorry, Lavinia. I hope I did not…”

But the look of anguish was gone, and a smile was spreading across Lavinia’s face that Celia did not like.

Lavinia was looking over Celia’s shoulder. It was then that Celia heard the creak of the door. She turned and saw Captain Greenwood slipping inside and closing it behind him.

Celia was suddenly hyper aware that she was only wearing her shift, practically naked, before a man who now wore a lascivious smile. She yelped as she leaped to her feet and looked around the room for anything to cover herself.

Lavinia stood up slowly, brushing her skirts and tossing the damp handkerchief into the fire.

“What do you want with me?” Celia stammered.

“Your silence,” Lavinia said.

“That picture you drew of me,” Captain Greenwood added.

“I thought you said I was mistaken,” Celia reminded him.

“We both know that you were not,” Captain Greenwood drawled. “But we cannot afford a scandal or even to be associated with each other. That is why I did not leave the ball with you.”

“I don’t have it with me,” Celia said, backing up towards the door in the corner of the room.

“Where is it? At Banfield House?” Lavinia asked.

“No,” Celia uttered.

In truth, she was not sure. She had dozens of drawings—perhaps hundreds.

“I do not think she realizes how serious I am,” Captain Greenwood said quietly. “I’m sure I can persuade her to tell me so that you can use your newfound position as friend of the family to go and get it. Step outside and keep watch.”

Lavinia cast a cool, appraising gaze over them both. Then, she nodded. Celia’s blood turned to ice at the gesture. There was a finality to it, a washing of hands.

What does he intend to do?

She felt the hard metal of a doorknob against her hands and gripped it, turning it. Captain Greenwood lunged for her, and she yanked the door open and dashed outside, slamming it shut. She found herself in another hallway, lit only by the moonlight streaming through bare windows.

She ran past two doors, making for a door at the end of the hall under which she could see a sliver of golden light.

If there is someone inside, then I am safe. Please let there be someone inside!

She pulled open the door and raced inside.

The room was empty. A fire had been lit, and a lamp sat on the mantelpiece. But there was no sign of anyone.

Celia closed the door as quietly as she could, desperately feeling for a key in the keyhole but not finding one. She pressed herself against the wall beside the door and bumped into something. Looking back, she saw a vase on a plinth, set into an alcove.

She could hear footsteps outside the door. Other doors in the hallway were being tried, opened, and then closed. The footsteps resumed. A man’s footsteps, drawing closer.

Celia’s breath came in panicked gasps. Her pulse was racing, heart hammering in her chest. There was no other way out of the room that she could see, and no one to help her.

The man looking for her meant her harm, if only to frighten her. But maybe he was capable of doing more.

Her hand tightened on the neck of the vase as the knob turned and the door creaked open.