A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2)(15)

He broke off, and Celia stared at him. "You-you wanted to protect me?" she asked.

He smiled and released Rosalinde to take a step toward her. "You and I started on the entirely worst foot, Celia. I know I was judgmental of what I didn't understand and I know I hurt you with my interference in your engagement with my brother."

Celia nodded. There was no denying those things, even if she understood Gray's motives more now than she had then. He adored Stenfax and had wanted to protect him after he'd been hurt in the past.

"But I have come to admire and care for you, Celia," Gray continued. "As if you were my own sister. Which means, I'm afraid, you have inherited my protectiveness with my siblings."

Celia laughed. "Oh yes, your famous protectiveness. Felicity and Stenfax have both spoken of it many times."

"With rolled eyes, no doubt," Gray said with a laugh of his own. "But teasing aside, the fact is I don't ever want to see you hurt. If I can prevent it, I will move and heaven and earth to do so."

Celia blinked as sudden tears filled her eyes. She'd spent her life under the dubious protection of her grandfather, a man who had seen her as a tool. A man who had blackmailed her into nearly marrying what she did not love. She had never expected protection from anyone but Rosalinde.

Now hearing Gray say those words, lay claim to her as a sibling not because he had to, but because he cared for her. Well, it moved her. She reached out and he took the hand she offered, squeezing gently.

"But don't fear," he continued, pointing his comment both to her and to the teary-eyed Rosalinde, who watched them both with a broad and happy smile. "The more I talk to Clairemont, the more comfortable I become with him. He isn't the man I thought he might be, in the best way possible. So I gave him my permission to forward his suit, if that is your wish, of course."

Celia released his hand and nodded. "You don't know how much your support means to me, especially given our bad beginning. But I must say that I do want Aiden … Clairemont … to court me."

She blushed at her slip of using his given name so freely. That mistake didn't seem to escape Rosalinde and Gray, either, for they both stared at her, wide-eyed.

She ignored their looks and continued slowly, "I-I like him."

Rosalinde moved forward and stared at her intently, her bright blue eyes, the ones so like Celia's own, taking in every expression. Finally, she sighed. "You do?"         

     



 

Celia nodded. "I do. Very much, despite our short acquaintance."

Saying those words out loud made the truth very clear to her. She really did like Aiden. And she could see that blossoming into something far deeper in the not so distant future. If it did and he went on that journey with her, that meant she would actually have the happiness she saw on her sister's face every day.

"I still worry," Rosalinde said with a sigh. "A sister's prerogative, I suppose."

Celia shrugged. "You and I weren't exactly lucky in love, not until you met Gray."

"No," Rosalinde said, stepping back into her husband's arm and settling her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. "We weren't. But if I can find happiness, I know you will, as well."

"I want that," Celia said. "I want what you two have."

She bit her lip to keep from saying more. Yes, she was more than happy to have even the chance to fall in love and reach the joy Rosalinde had found. But there was more to her excitement about this potential match.

Aiden was a duke. A powerful one at that, despite his being gone from Society for so long. And she knew her grandfather would be attracted to that title and the power that went with it.

But Rosalinde had reacted so poorly to her mentioning of reconnecting with Gregory Fitzgilbert, Celia hesitated to bring it up again. Gray despised her grandfather after his attack on Rosalinde. The two could easily forbid her from pursuing a new deal with him if she asked.

But if she didn't ask … well, she could always apologize later, couldn't she? If she decided to meet with him, if her plan worked out, Rosalinde would surely forgive her.

She smiled. "At any rate, there is nothing happening yet. He's asked to court me and he will. There are no bridges to cross yet when it comes to the future. I'll just hope for the best."

Rosalinde grabbed her and drew her in for a hug. "Absolutely. But I am happy for you that you like this man. When you say you want something like my happiness, I must tell you I pray nightly that you will find the same and more."

"More?" Celia laughed as she squeezed her sister tightly. "I don't know if there is more in the world."

But as they laughed, Celia couldn't help but think of Aiden again. It felt like she could find more with a man like him. Everything and more. She had always told herself she couldn't have it all.

But now she couldn't help but wonder if she could.





Chapter Ten





Clairemont stood in the parlor, staring out the window at the bright and sunny garden behind Grayson Danford's home. He'd been offered a seat by the butler who brought him here, but he'd not been able to stay in it long. He felt antsy and unsettled, and as much as he tried to chalk that up to his investigation, in his heart he knew it had more to do with Celia.

He faced the door just as Celia entered, her sister trailing behind her. As she looked at him across the room, her face lit up in a bright smile and the power of it hit him in the gut and nearly set him spiraling back. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Like he was everything.

He'd always been nothing.

"Hello, Your Grace," Mrs. Danford said, moving between the couple and breaking the spell between them. "How lovely to see you again."

The words were friendly, but her tone was a bit stiff. Clairemont blinked and forced himself to focus on her. There was hesitation in her eyes as she extended a hand to him in welcome.

He shook it. "Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Danford. Will your husband not join us?"

Mrs. Danford shook her head. "Gray planned to do just that, but I'm afraid his meeting earlier in the day went long. He sent word that he'd be late, though we hope to see him before you depart."

Clairemont frowned, for he wondered who Danford was meeting with, but he didn't press. Already Celia's sister seemed uncertain of him, as outwardly friendly as she continued to be. He didn't want to raise her suspicions even more and perhaps block him from uncovering more.

And from spending time with her sister.

"Please, let's sit, shall we?" Mrs. Danford said as she motioned them all to the settee and chairs before the fire.

She took the chair and Clairemont settled himself in next to Celia on the settee. It was narrow and his larger frame barely fit, which forced his knee to bump hers when he moved.

Every time it did, it was a shock to the system. It seemed to affect her, too, for her pupils were dilated and her breath slightly short when she said, "Your letters earlier in the week reminded me that you haven't been in London for a very long time."         

     



 

Clairemont nodded. The letters. There had been no reason in the world for him to write to her in the days they'd been apart, but he'd found himself doing so regardless. Sharing with her his impressions of London, giving her details on what he did and thought during the day. It made him feel like they were connected somehow.

And he liked it, even though he shouldn't.

"Yes, a very long time," he said.

"You've told me some of your activities, but I wanted to ask you how you find it overall, Your Grace?"

Clairemont saw Mrs. Danford gather up sewing from a basket beside her chair and turn slightly away. So they were to be given some small level of privacy despite the fact that they were being chaperoned. But not enough for more stolen kisses.

He supposed he should be pleased by that fact. Those kisses were wholly wrong and utterly distracting. And yet he kept taking them, savoring them, dreaming of them, regardless of the consequences to such an action.

"Aiden?"

The use of the name he'd given her jolted him back to reality. He shot Mrs. Danford a look, but she hadn't reacted to the use of what they all believed was his first name.

"I'm sorry, Celia, I was woolgathering," he said. "You asked me about London. I don't think it will come as a surprise that it isn't exactly my favorite place."

He said those words as an explanation for another man's actions, but they applied to him as much as the real duke.

She nodded. "I'm also not hugely fond of the city. It is always so crowded, the air is never fresh and it smells of … "

She trailed off and he shifted with discomfort before he whispered, "Smoke. There are too many chimneys. Too much smoke."

Her gaze lifted to his and she held there. He realized how much emotion had been in that one sentence. Too much. And she'd never know exactly why. He'd never be able to share that truth with her.

He laughed to play off the darker tone of a moment before. "But London is a necessary evil for men of rank. Still, I won't be sorry when I depart. But what about you? You grew up in London, didn't you?"

She smiled-he thought it was at the idea that he had done some research on her past. If she knew the real reason for his search, she would not be so happy.

"I did," she said. "When our mother-"