Page 37 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

“ A urelia! Aurelia! Are you here? Where is she?”

The last question was directed at her mother, who had emerged from the drawing room, perturbed by her sudden and loud appearance at Banfield House.

Celia had run from Cheverton and then along Kensington High Road towards London. By the time she summoned a cab at the western edge of Hyde Park, she was sweating from the exertion.

And she was desperate. At any moment, she had expected Alexander to gallop along the road to snatch her up and force her to marry Phillip Grimaire. Which, of course, she would do if there was any fear in her mind that Aurelia might be forced to do the same.

Now, she stormed into Banfield House, desperate to keep her sister safe.

I pray that I am not too late. This plan has only just been hatched, and they have not yet attempted to coerce Aurelia. Please, God, let it not be so.

“Mother, where is Aurelia?” Celia repeated when greeted with a look of utter stupefaction on Lady Scovell’s face.

“She is upstairs in her rooms, I believe. She had planned to meet with Miss Dunnings later… Oh, Celia, I do wish you wouldn’t go off half-cocked when it comes to the Dunnings!”

That was called out as Celia picked up her skirts and ran up the stairs. It fell on deaf ears. She would not hear a word about Miss Dunnings or how misunderstood she was.

She is part of it. I know it. She introduced Aurelia to that wretch in the first place. Now, she conspires to either steal Alexander for herself or simply take revenge on me. How could I have been so blind?

She wrenched open the door to her sister’s rooms, but they were empty.

For a moment, all she could feel was utter despair, fearing that Aurelia had sneaked out under their mother’s nose. Then, she heard a sound from the room next door—her old bedroom.

Celia burst through the adjoining door and found Aurelia kneeling on the floor. She was surrounded by paper, each bearing sketches and drawings that Celia had made.

Celia watched her take out another sketch, examine it for a moment, and then toss it aside.

At the sound of the door opening, Aurelia looked up in alarm. “Celia!” she exclaimed.

“Aurelia, what are you doing?”

“Looking for that sketch, of course. I have been through the contents of this dratted chest once already, and I cannot find it.”

She sounded frantic. Her hair was disheveled, and she had rolled up her sleeves, wrinkling and creasing them horribly. Both should have been anathema to Aurelia, what with her heightened sense of fashion.

“Aurelia, I… I read some correspondence today. It… It does not matter where. It mentioned the possibility of you marrying Phillip Grimaire. Tell me this hasn’t been a topic of conversation with… anyone.”

Aurelia’s mouth dropped open. “No, it certainly has not. I would not marry that animal. Why would I?”

Celia shook her head, feeling somewhat relieved. “I did, after all. One is prone to do almost anything when the price is sparing one’s family from scandal.”

Aurelia frowned in confusion. “What scandal? Do you mean that word of what happened at Almack’s the other day got out? Is there gossip about me?”

Celia shook her head. “It does not matter. No, I have heard and read nothing about that incident, but that may be because it is being kept under wraps by Phillip Grimaire’s father.”

She sank into an armchair, the last hour’s frantic activity finally catching up to her. It was as though a heavy cloak had settled onto her shoulders, made not of fabric but of lead. She put a hand to her forehead.

“Is he so wealthy that he can pull such strings?” Aurelia asked, still kneeling amid Celia’s sketches.

“Alexander can. Apparently, he has fooled everyone into thinking him a worthless rake over the years.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“I do not know. That family is full of secrets. Or rather, the Duke is.”

“Surely not to you, his wife.”

Celia sat forward and took Aurelia’s hands in her own. “Aurelia, I am the last to know what he is thinking or planning. Today, I learned that he might be considering… Well, I do not want to speak it aloud, but it concerns both of us. Did you find the picture?”

Aurelia flung a handful of paper into the air with a cry. “Many lovely works of art, but not the one I wish to see. Are you sure it exists, Celia?” she asked.

Celia gaped and released her sister’s hands. It was tantamount to accusing her of lying.

If anyone else had asked that question, Celia would have understood it. But Aurelia was surely too innocent to think that her sister lied.

“I know you did not mean that question the way it sounded. Yes, it exists. Remember, I was packed off to Essex after Lady Alvey repeated Lavinia’s false tale to Mama and Papa. I must have left it there. There were other pictures there, another chest.”

An idea came to her then. She sank to the floor beside Aurelia, her skirts fanning out around her. She looked deeply into her sister’s eyes.

“Aurelia. We could go there. It is a day’s ride only. Two days there and back. If it means so much to you, then we will find it. What do you say?”

“Yes,” Aurelia said immediately.

Celia had been prepared to try to persuade her sister, but the instantaneous agreement took her by surprise. She was at a loss for words.

Aurelia smiled at her. “Of course I will go with you. Then, I will know whom I can truly trust. When can we go?”

“I will speak to Mama about loaning us the trap. I will drive us. She will be overjoyed to hear that we are visiting with such holy people after all the trouble that has surrounded us.”

“Not by choice for me,” Aurelia said.

“Nor I.”

Aurelia looked skeptical at that.

“Nor I,” Celia repeated firmly. “I wanted to experience the real world, that is all.”

And what an experience I had. I fell in love with a remarkable man and was betrayed by that same man. Oh, why did he have to be holding that letter? Why did he have to destroy that picture?

“Will Celia be joining us for dinner?” Violet asked, entering the room still wearing her painter’s smock, barefoot with paint- smeared toes. Her hair was tied up with a head scarf like the ones washerwomen wear.

Alexander had taken himself to the library to try and find calm, but he had read the same page a dozen times already. He slapped the book closed.

“No, she has left,” he said abruptly, “as I have told Hyacinth.”

Violet paused in the act of wiping her hands on a stained cloth. She held it out to the side, and moments later, a well-trained maid moved forward and took it from her.

“Indeed? She told me that she had invited Celia here and that Celia had subsequently left in a hurry. Your sister is most upset. Do you have anything to do with that?”

“I don’t. She took it upon herself to leave and refused to listen to anything I had to say,” Alexander replied with no little resentment.

Violet pursed her lips, one hand resting on her hip. “Your sister has become very fond of Celia. I, too, have to hold her in high esteem. Why do you now reject her? I advised you against this silly marriage of convenience from the beginning.”

Alexander shot to his feet, and Violet put both hands on her hips and faced him down, her face unreadable but her eyebrows arched.

“I remember, and I tried to prevent both of you from forming a bond with her by keeping her at Finsbury. But you insisted on getting to know her, and Hyacinth went behind my back and invited her here. Any pain both of you now feel is entirely your fault!”

He strode past her, thinking to go out riding. Time alone, on horseback, in the wild countryside, would help to clear his mind.

“I admit that the idea of such a fine young woman leaving our lives so soon is uncomfortable. But you know your sister. She cannot love with half her heart while keeping the other half safe. Nor can she live behind high walls forever, as you seem determined to do.”

That was too much for Alexander. He rounded on his stepmother, hands clenching into fists which he kept firmly behind his back.

“Better I live behind impenetrable walls than be weakened like my father was. I saw the damage love did to him. The love he had for my mother, for example. It broke him.”

Violet had to look up at him, but she did so from the height of a raised chin.

“That is the price of love, you will find. Joy comes with risk. Spare yourself the risk and lose the color and flavor of life. Your father lived his life to the fullest, experiencing every nuance. He grieved for your mother and loved me.”

“He was made a fool by those who took advantage of him. And I am left to pick up the pieces. Had he been stronger, I would not be in this predicament.”

“A fool?” Violet scoffed. “Taken advantage of? Hmm, those are terms I have never heard in connection with your late father. No one knew him who would describe him so either. I think it’s about time you learned the truth about your father.”

Alexander laughed bitterly. “I went through the accounts, and I have a forensic knowledge of my father. He was a weak man who squandered the wealth of his family. I should like to get my hands on the people who helped divest him of his wealth.”

Violet clapped her hands together, the sound reverberating through the room. “Very well then. Let us find out who those people are. Do you have time now?”

Alexander stared at her in astonishment. She stared back defiantly.

What on earth is she talking about? She knows that I went through the accounts and knows everything about my father’s affairs. What is there for me to discover?

“No, Violet. I have urgent correspondence that I must address and…”

And a wife to hunt down as I did once before. To take her away from all of this scandal and scheming. Find a shepherd’s hut somewhere and hold her close to me.

That is what I want to do, but it is what I cannot do. Nor can I agree to parcel her up for the Grimaire family.

“If you wish Hyacinth to have a debut and the best start to her social life, then I must make that happen. It will not be conjured from the wand of a fey spirit, but brought into being by me.”

“Come with me and see what I have to show you. It will change your worldview, I promise,” Violet insisted.

Alexander hesitated, seeing a fire in his stepmother’s eyes that had not always been present. She was an artist who allowed the wind to take her where it would, but there was steel in her eyes now.

“You have questioned the character of the man I loved and still love dearly. I would see you proven wrong, my son.”

They were interrupted by the steady, metronome click of shoes against the hard floor. It was Mullins, the butler.

Alexander fell silent as the old man appeared at the door. He had a mane of white hair falling from the back of his otherwise bald head and a supercilious face with a permanently upturned aspect.

“Begging your pardon, Your Graces. Miss Dunnings is waiting outside.”

“Send her in, Mullins,” Violet said, at the same time Alexander ordered, “Send her away. I am not receiving visitors!”

He glared at her.

“She was once welcome in this house and has done nothing wrong that I know of.”

Alexander threw his hands up. “Let her in, then. Why not? It is an open house and not one that I have any authority in, it seems!”

Moments later, Lavinia entered the room. She curtsied deeply and was pulled up by Violet, who offered her an armchair. Alexander clicked his fingers at Mullins and, uncharacteristically, ordered brandy.

“Oh my, I hope that is not my doing?” Lavinia asked as she sat.

“Not at all, dear,” Violet replied. “A family disagreement, nothing more. Now, then, will you have tea?”

“I would, thank you. I do not wish to be rude, but would it be possible to speak to His Grace alone?”

Violet looked at Alexander, who glowered back.

“Of course, dear. I will take myself away to dress properly and return with tea and cake.”

She left the room.

Alexander sat in silence until Mullins reappeared with a decanter of brandy and a glass on a silver tray. He accepted the glass and took an unhealthy swallow, staring at Lavinia.

“What is it you wish to discuss?” he asked.

She produced a piece of folded paper from the pocket of her coat and placed it on the table in front of her.

“Printed this morning, discussing a fresh scandal involving your wife. This time, it also involves her sister, Aurelia. It does not mention the gentleman concerned but links the two sisters together and questions the morality of their family. Terrible.”

Alexander barely glanced at it. “And you bring this to my attention, why?”

“I have a proposition. I am prepared to help you out of your current predicament.”

“What predicament? I am a married man. Happily married and with a good reputation.”

“Not happily and certainly not with a good reputation. What good was done by your public appearances was undone in private. I can help you, though. I will take you back. Leave your wife, swear that your marriage was not consummated, and marry me. My dowry has increased since we were last engaged. I can clear your debts, and Hyacinth can have the debut she deserves. Here…”

She produced a smaller piece of paper and slid it across the table towards him.

“This is a promissory note which I have signed and which you may present to my bankers immediately. Sign it and bank it, and your word is given.”

Alexander looked at the paper. It was just a slip of paper, but so potent in its significance.

“I agree. If I were to sign it and bank it, it would be the same as swearing an oath. I would be giving my word.”

“Then we are agreed?” Lavinia asked.

Alexander had never been so tempted. A simple act. A dashed signature and all his problems would be over. If and only if he could erase Celia from his mind.

Lavinia was nothing but a body. There was no danger of being ruled by his heart. No danger of being weakened by attachment. Celia represented a very great danger.

“We are not. Not yet. Leave it with me for now.”

Alexander felt as though his words would reverberate through the ether, communicating his betrayal to Celia. He wanted to wince, feeling the pain it would bring to her.

I must decide. Do I wish to be weak and in love, or strong and alone?