Page 32 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

Alexander frowned. “Another? I do not have one. Even you cannot be termed a mistress, given that we are married.”

Celia regarded him solemnly for a long moment while the storm raged around them. Then, she looked away, deliberately removing his hand from her hip. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest and gazing out into the premature twilight.

Alexander regarded her, puzzled. “Whatever is the matter with you?” he asked.

“It does not matter. I had no right to speak of it. There is nothing between us but an arrangement forced upon us both. I cannot expect you to keep vows that you did not mean.”

That stung Alexander.

He sat up. “Now, what the hell do you mean by that? I do not make vows that I do not mean to keep.”

“Clearly, you do,” Celia countered, looking back at him over a shoulder that seemed bare due to the translucent fabric of her dress. She pulled the coat tighter around herself, covering her near-nakedness.

“I regard myself as married. I have no intention of conducting an affair with any other woman while I am married to you.”

“But when we first got married, you made it clear that there would be nothing between us. You even seemed to think that I might be some kind of spy.”

“Of course I did. What was I supposed to think?” Alexander shouted.

“You appear like a bolt of lightning in my life and strike down everything around you. Suddenly, instead of being betrothed to a willing young lady with a large dowry, I am forced into marriage with a tomboy who likes to dress as a man and whose father is a suspicious, old stoat that won’t release the dowry without an audit of my accounts! ”

Celia shot to her feet, just the right height to stand beneath the low roof. Alexander did the same and hit his head on a beam of ash. Then, he forgot about his ankle and tried to put weight on it, only to collapse to the straw with a cry of pain.

“Damnation!” he yelled.

Celia strode out of the shelter into the driving rain.

“Will you come back here, woman!” Alexander grabbed a beam overhead, hauling himself to his feet and hanging there, suspended with his foot off the ground.

“No! I will not spend any more time pretending. We are married in name only. Let it be so. No more… no more touching. No more kissing… not any part of me! I will see your books, and my father will release my dowry. Then, you will go back to Cheverton, and I will remain alone at Finsbury until everyone has forgotten about me and you can quietly annul the marriage.”

Alexander gaped at her. “You can’t annul a marriage that has been consummated.”

“I will attest that I am still a virgin. I will give you no trouble.”

She started to walk away, ignoring the rain and the lightning. Alexander gritted his teeth and let go of the beam. He hobbled after her, enduring the pain and refusing to let his leg collapse. He reached her and overtook her by sheer willpower, each step a molten lance of agony.

“What has gotten into you?” he demanded.

“Just do not lie to me. Do not lie to my face that you do not have a mistress, that you are taking your vows seriously. I know the truth!”

Celia looked distraught. Alexander could see from her eyes that she was crying, though the rain disguised it well. He lifted a hand to her face, but she pulled away savagely.

“Deny it!” she challenged.

Alexander cursed himself for nine kinds of idiot. He remembered the letter.

“I deny it! The letter you found today was from an acquaintance who has just celebrated her sixty-fifth birthday. The Dowager Countess of Cleland. She has been advising me on manipulating the ton to neutralize adverse rumors and gossip. She could have taught Machiavelli lessons!, for God’s sake! She is certainly not a lover!”

Celia gaped at him, her lips trembling. “Sixty-five?” she sputtered.

“Indeed. Celia, when I made my vows to you, the only one I did not intend to fulfill was the one that said to love. I would protect you, shelter you, honor you. I could not love, but a vow is a vow. Our marriage was to be a marriage in all senses of the word but one.”

“And that sense has been well and truly defined, hasn’t it?” Celia said.

“It has. Now, will you come back inside before I fall?”

They returned to the shelter, Celia again supporting him. When he settled back into the straw with a pained groan, she knelt before him.

“Do you really mean it?” she asked.

“I mean it, as God and this livestock is my witness,” Alexander replied, fervently. “I can count the lovers I had on one hand since I reached the age of majority. You are the first in a long time.”

“But you are a notorious rake. Your reputation is well known, and I can attest to your skill. From where does it come if you are so inexperienced?”

“I said, no more than five lovers. I did not say that I slept with each one only once. I am experienced. I simply do not make serials of my lovers.”

“Then why project such an image if it is not true?” Celia pressed.

Alexander looked away. “Some things are not to be asked,” he muttered.

“But how am I to trust anything if you will not answer me?”

Alexander looked at her sorrowfully and then fell back into the straw, gazing up at the makeshift roof above them. “I told you, I take my vows seriously. I swore an oath, and I intend to keep it. I can say no more.”

Then, he looked up at her, propping himself on his elbow.

“I have not forgotten that we are supposed to visit my solicitor. I cannot think why you would wish to delay that meeting, but you seem to be intent on doing so. May I ask a question of my own? Why?”

Celia plucked at straw, her face glum. “Is it such a surprise that I wish to delay the end of our marriage? That I wish to delay your departure for Cheverton, never to be seen again? This has been… an adventure the likes of which I have not experienced in a long time. In certain ways, it is completely new to me. I… I just wanted it to last longer.”

Alexander was touched by her candor and her obvious sadness.

“I can wait for a while. Perhaps a week?” he suggested.

Celia looked at him with hope in her eyes. “A week?”

“Yes, a week in which we will do whatever you wish. Experience whatever you wish together. Then, at the end, we will review the accounts, and you will report your findings to your father.”

Alexander found himself wanting to give more. Wanted to tell her that they would not part at that point. He would not go back to Cheverton, and he certainly would not wish to never see her again. But he could not bring himself to say it.

I did not marry for love, and I do not desire it. Love is weakness, and it brings only disaster. We will enjoy play-acting as husband and wife for a week, and then it will be over.