Page 6 of Unraveled by the Duke (Scandalous Duchesses #1)

H onor demands I reject a woman whose dowry would have cleared my debts. But how much would her demands have cost me, ultimately? I cannot help but think I have escaped a trap. But have I stepped into another?

Alexander stepped out of the carriage before the entrance to Banfield House and remembered his stepmother’s words when he had explained his plan to her. Olivia was his father’s second wife, but he regarded her as a mother figure, trusting her judgment implicitly.

Except in this regard.

Something in him rebelled at the notion of keeping Celia at a distance.

“Alexander, I have heard of this young woman, and I have my doubts. Rumor has it that she consorted with a commoner, dressing as a commoner herself to go incognito. Now she throws herself at an engaged man? I think she seeks a wealthy husband and aims to use subterfuge.”

Am I making a terrible mistake? I cannot accept Celia as a manipulator and seducer, as Violet would have it.

Celia had cost him his engagement. Miss Dunnings would not have been his first choice of wife, but she was available and interested. She also came with a dowry, which would have allowed him to pay for Hyacinth’s debut, giving her the best start to her social life.

That made him grit his teeth in frustration, but marrying Celia was the only honorable course of action.

Miss Dunnings had been cold when he had visited her to break off their engagement. He had expected perhaps tears and recrimination. She had been furious and icy instead.

Not the reaction of a woman who has lost her love, but the reaction of a merchant disappointed by the loss of a sale.

Cornelius Frid came out of the house, appearing angry and pompous. His wife followed, compassion and grief warring on her features with an anger that was more tightly controlled than her husband’s.

Lastly came Celia. She was plainly dressed, with her hair tied back like a servant. It could not take away from her pretty face, though, which shone radiantly. She looked up at him, and her gaze felt like a physical touch. He hardened himself against it.

“Well, you have your way, Your Grace. My daughter will marry you,” Cornelius grunted.

Alexander blinked.

Lady Scovell dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Celia looked down at the ground.

“I understood we would discuss the terms of her dowry over tea and?—”

“And I’m sure that was your primary concern.

The dowry will be communicated to you via my solicitor.

I wish no more contact on this matter than necessary, if it pleases you.

That includes my daughter. With respect, as a father, I believe I am entitled to the opinion that you are both beyond the pale,” Cornelius said.

“Now, look here,” Alexander began. “I did not come here expecting to take a wife away with me. I do not have a special license or?—”

“I do not trust my daughter a moment longer as a single woman,” Cornelius interrupted, making him clench his fists at the rudeness.

Alexander reminded himself that this was a father who believed his daughter was disgraced and kept his own temper in check.

“You are a man of elevated rank,” Cornelius continued, “and as such eminently suitable as husband to my daughter. I am deeply concerned by the accounts of your behavior. I am sure you know what I speak of. I do not accept gossip as gospel, as a rule, but I must express my concern. I hope you will not take offense at such words from a man who is below your rank. I must speak, however. It is clear that the only way out of this scandal is for Celia to marry you. You got that right in your letter.”

Lady Scovell wept, and Celia glared at her father before taking her mother’s hands. Or trying to. Cornelius pulled his wife away from her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

A glacial anger was bubbling up inside Alexander, grinding through him, unstoppable and implacable.

“I would not choose your family either, Scovell,” he snapped.

“I am not sure I have not been ensnared by an avaricious earl intent on acquiring a dukedom. Or a mercenary lady with questionable morals. I do what I have to for my name. Very well. Lady Celia, if you would get into the carriage,” Alexander said, stepping aside.

Two footmen emerged from the house at a gesture from Cornelius, carrying a chest between them, which was lashed to the rear of the carriage.

Cornelius seemed to be struggling with his response, glaring at Alexander over his wife’s head. When Celia had alighted, Alexander nodded curtly to Cornelius and his wife and joined her.

The carriage turned and began to rumble away along the long gravel drive before joining Oxford Street.

“Cheverton, Your Grace?” the driver called.

“No, take us to Finsbury,” Alexander ordered.

He settled back into his seat, opposite Celia, but he was determined not to look at her.

Confirmation that I have been played by a couple of masters.

I suggest the idea of marriage and help them avoid being the ones to mention it, and now I’m saddled with her.

Doubtless, the dowry will not be deposited until she has wormed her way into my affections so that it can be negotiated to the Frid family’s benefit.

“Where are we going, may I ask?” Celia asked diffidently.

Alexander ignored her, stewing in his anger.

“If you are going to ignore me, this will be a very difficult marriage, will it not?” Celia prodded.

“No. It will be remarkably easy because it will involve very little change of lifestyle,” Alexander said.

“We will be married in name only, and for the sake of the ton, we will maintain the illusion in public. In private, we will live separate lives. I will not trouble you for a husband’s prerogative. ”

He looked away from her to avoid the stricken look on her face.

She is conspiring against me. This is all an act. I am trapped, but I will not falter and give any more ground to this greedy family.

“Thank you for being so frank with me, Your Grace,” Celia muttered in a tremulous voice.

Alexander heard the tears and glanced at her. She looked away quickly, her chin wobbling and her eyes wet. The act certainly seemed very genuine.

“What will that entail for you, I wonder?” she asked.

The carriage was creeping along Oxford Street eastward in the direction of Tottenham Court Road.

The city seemed to cling to them, refusing to let them reach the green expanse of the country beyond its northern limits.

The carriage was hot, and the air outside was full of sounds and smells that crowded in on them.

“Does it matter?” Alexander replied. “Why do you wish to know?”

Celia’s chin tensed, and she wiped at her eyes. “I ask because you are to be my husband. A wife should know something about the man she is married to, surely.”

Alexander shook his head. “You do not need to know. In private, we are to be strangers. Know this—your actions three nights ago may have cost me my best chance to give my sister the debut she deserves and needs. That may harm her social standing. I cannot feel good about that or about the person who caused it.”

Celia scoffed, and it incensed him.

“I understand that you racked up debts because of your gambling and lavish lifestyle. The Dowager Duchess and her daughter live in poverty while you attend balls and carouse.”

The words stung.

Why do they cut so when spoken by her? I knew of these rumors. Of course, I did. Why does it hurt when this woman repeats them? Her good opinion of me is not wanted or required.

“Then you have answered your own question, have you not?” Alexander said, leaning forward in his seat, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him to keep from pointing. That would be aggressive and intimidating.

He would not bully her, but merely state the facts.

“I will be spending my time being a rake, as you and everyone else have condemned me to be. Ask yourself something, Lady Celia. What clubs have I been seen in? What women have I seduced? Name them. Or are these rumors just that?”

What are you doing, you fool? You took the slings and arrows of the ton’s disapproval and ill feeling because it protected your father’s memory. Now, you’re risking it all just because she has pretty eyes? Or because you feel sorry for her?

He growled in his throat and looked away, disgusted with his weakness. No woman had affected him so much before. He sat back, glaring at the world outside the carriage.

Celia watched him, frowning, her head tilted to the side. “You are saying that the rumors are untrue? I know something of the lies and half-truths gossips tell. Is your reputation as a rake as unfounded as mine?”

“No. You misunderstand,” Alexander said sullenly.

“Then enlighten me,”

“No! Be silent!” Alexander roared, his anger fueled by fear that a woman he did not trust was digging close to his buried secrets.

“I will not!” Celia gave as good as she got.

There was fire in her eyes and the roar of a lion in the snap of her voice. She was magnificent. Fierce and unquenchable in her arousal.

Alexander found himself admiring her in this excited state.

Her gloriously pale, feminine cheeks were flushed, and her eyes flashed with a savage anger that harkened back to her Saxon ancestors.

Her lips were parted, and he fancied that a finger to her throat would reveal a racing pulse.

Her heaving breasts showed it clearly enough.

“I am the daughter of an earl, and though I have made mistakes, I am an honorable woman. My husband may have power over me, but you, by your own admission, have no interest in being my master. Only a husband in name. Well, that kind of husband does not get to order me or command me. You are clearly not enough of a man to master me anyway.”

She reached for the door of the carriage, turning the handle even though the vehicle was still moving.

Alexander reached for the handle to keep the door shut, his hand clamping down on hers. Their eyes met. Blue eyes, hard as a winter’s sky, and brown, deeper than a fathomless mere.