Page 41 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

“ Y our Grace, allow me to congratulate you on a fine evening. Nothing was wanting, and your sister looked positively regal,” Cornelius Frid praised, offering his hand.

Alexander had been standing, watching Hyacinth dance with a young, fresh-faced man in the uniform of an ensign of the Household Cavalry. He had already discussed him with the Dowager Countess of Cleland, who was currently holding court on the other side of the room.

The young man was of good family and solid reputation. Alexander tried not to glower at him. Violet had already had words with him this evening about that.

“Thank you, Scovell. It has been quite the enterprise, but Hyacinth deserves nothing less.”

Cornelius Frid smiled and nodded. His demeanor towards Alexander had changed considerably since the scandals involving his daughters had been so effectively squashed.

Celia and Violet mingled with the guests; the Duchess and Dowager Duchess of Cheverton made a charming team.

“And Celia deserves nothing less. I had my doubts at the beginning. I hope you do not harbor a grudge against a concerned father.”

“Not at all. I would have acted the same. Actually, I should be thanking you. Celia’s dowry paid for all of this. That was my reason for marrying her—one of them. The least of them now.”

“Men have married for less. I did. It is not the initial intention that matters, but what one does with it. If you follow.”

Alexander nodded.

His initial intention had been to use Celia for her dowry while maintaining his honor. Use her and then discard her. What mattered was his intentions now—to love and protect her forever.

How easy I find it to think of that word. To love. For so long, it was anathema. It was weakness and vulnerability.

“I do not wish to overstep the mark, but… now that our families are united… it would be remiss of me if I did not at least offer…” Cornelius was babbling, his face reddening.

Alexander put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I will spare you having to say it, Scovell. I appreciate the gesture, but my father’s debts are mine.”

“It takes great courage for a man to accept the approbation of his peers in order to protect his family. It must have been very unjust.”

“The injustice was all mine. I misjudged my father when I should not have judged him at all. His works will last for generations. I can only hope that Celia and I can come close to equaling him.”

Cornelius puffed out his chest, beaming with pride. “Well said. Hear, hear. Well, if your problems with that rat Grimaire persist, know that your new father-in-law is ready to assist.”

Alexander inclined his head in a grave salute.

Cornelius raised a hand to hail his wife, moving off into the crowd.

For a while, Alexander stood alone, surrounded by the glittering finery of the Cheveton ballroom, where Hyacinth had been introduced to polite society. The ton had been charmed by her. She would do well, of that he had no doubt.

“You look pensive,” Celia noted, joining him and slipping her hands around his arm.

She leaned close to him, and he closed his eyes briefly, savoring the feel of her body against his.

Her scent was intoxicating. Her dress was pretty but plain; she refused to be as gaudy as some, and he was glad. She did not need it any more than Aphrodite needed it.

“Not pensive. Just appreciating the feel of a weight lifted off my shoulders. It is done. She has been launched.”

Celia chuckled. “She is not a ship.”

“If she were, she would be the marvel of the seas. Look at her. I could not be more proud.”

“Spoken like a true father,” Celia said.

“I am not her father. I am a candle next to the sun that my father was.”

“Do not underappreciate yourself. You have overcome much for all of us.”

“There is still the matter of Nathaniel Grimaire. He intends to go through with his promise to call in my debts. He claims it is a purely commercial decision, but we both know it is revenge. Even the threat of exposing his ties to Greenwood has not deterred him. He is immune to scandal and gossip.”

Celia laughed softly, her eyes scanning the gathered guests.

Alexander looked at her askance. “I did not say I was not pensive, yet you laugh. Is my concern amusing?”

“Put your thorns away, Alexander,” Celia said. “I want to show you something.”

“We have done this before, I think. And pleasurable though it was, I do not think this is the time or place,” Alexander protested as she steered him towards the doors.

She swatted his arm. “I seem to have married a man with room in his mind for one thing only.”

“I seem to have married a woman who leaves no room in my mind for anything else.”

“We still have my challenge. If you can beat me, then the prize is yours.”

They walked out into the hall, and Celia steered him to the far wall, where many guests were standing, admiring the paintings.

“You think I will not be able to recognize my own wife dressed up as a commoner in a tavern? I will spot you the moment you walk in,” Alexander said.

“I did not say it would be in the tavern. Besides, under Maxwell’s influence, you might be cross-eyed by the time I appear.”

They stopped. On the wall hung six watercolor paintings, all depicting members of their family: Alexander, Hyacinth, Violet, Cornelius, Edna, and Aurelia. Below the paintings hung several charcoal drawings of places and ordinary people.

“Your first gallery, a wall in our own home. I admire these portraits every day, though I wish you would add yourself to this collection.”

“I cannot paint myself. I do not have that skill. Yet. The reason I brought you here is that there is another person here who admires my work. I showed him everything—the sketches, the works in progress—and he has been very enthusiastic.”

Alexander frowned. “Who?”

“The Duke of Westminster.”

“A man whose patronage is valuable for an artist.”

“His collection is one of the finest in the country, outside of the National Gallery,” Celia said. “His patronage is already bearing fruit. He has paid in advance for a series of landscapes of the City of London. Twelve paintings to display in his home!”

She was practically bouncing on her toes with excitement.

Alexander grinned, happy for his wife’s success. Happy for her happiness, in fact. It did not matter where it came from. He would that she was always smiling and bouncing on her toes. He would that her eyes were always shining the way they were now.

When she told him how much the Duke of Westminster was offering for the commission, he gaped. It was more than the debt he owed to Grimaire. Much more.

Alexander turned to face his wife, his arms around her waist, those around them fading to the background. She beamed up at him, probably not realizing that she was his savior. She had been from the moment she swung a vase at his head and set them both on this path.

Without her, he would have been a bitter, cold man who resented his father and hated the world, convinced that his hatred and loneliness were strength.

“I love you, Celia,” he whispered and kissed her.