A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2)(18)

"I hope you do not only see it as a duty," Mrs. Danford said, intruding upon his thoughts.

He blinked. "Marrying?" he asked, trying to bring his mind back to the current moment.

She nodded, and he smiled once more at her protectiveness of her sister. Celia deserved that. She would need it even more once he was finished with her and her hopes were dashed.

That sobering thought brought his mood down, and he cleared his throat. "You and Danford seem to provide a great deal of proof that it can be a pleasure," he said.

Mrs. Danford beamed down the table at her husband and then the conversation shifted to other topics. Clairemont found himself looking at Celia once more, examining her features and wishing more than anything that he could plan a true life with her, not just use that idea as a way to further his investigation.

But he couldn't have that. Because at the end of this, he would no longer be the Duke of Clairemont. And he would never see Celia again. A thought that turned his stomach and made his chest ache.





"Thank you, Ruth," Celia said as her maid gathered up her clothing from the day to be washed and pressed. "Good night."

"Good night, miss," Ruth said with a smile as she left Celia's chamber.

Once she was alone, Celia returned to her mirror and stood before it, looking at her reflection. Although she'd seen herself thousands of times over the years, tonight she felt like she was looking at a stranger. In the garden, Aiden had changed something in her. His mouth on hers, his hands touching her, her realization of his desire for her … all that had shifted her to a new place. She couldn't go back.

And it seemed she might not have to. After all, before he'd left, he'd held her hand a moment too long, stared into her eyes just a little too intently. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. There was only one way that would end if he were a gentleman and she a lady.

Yet she wasn't completely thrilled at the idea of a future with him, not because she didn't want that, but because he remained a mystery in so many ways. Tonight he had withdrawn a fraction after supper. She'd felt his hesitation, but what was it born from?         

     



 

The only thing she could think of was past. In the garden she'd felt his pain on the subject, and inside he'd seemed just as uncomfortable when he spoke to Rosalinde and Gray about why he'd hidden out in the countryside, why he had been so reluctant to return to his place in Society.

There was a great deal beneath the surface with this man. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of a roiling sea of emotion and heartache that he kept secret, quiet. She found she wanted to know it all. To share it every bit of it. To ease it all the best she could.

In the hallway, she heard the soft sound of voices. Gray's voice, answered by Rosalinde as they made their way to bed in the master chamber at the far end of the hallway. There was a tone to their voices, even if Celia didn't understand the words themselves. Whatever they said was born from deep intimacy. Love. Potent desire. Her sister let out a soft giggle and then the door to their chamber shut a bit too loudly.

Celia closed her eyes. Rosalinde had taken chances it had always come naturally to her. In fact, Celia knew that her sister and Gray had engaged in physical intimacy before they were wed.

For Rosalinde, making the decision to give herself to a man was a different situation, of course. She had been a widow when she met Gray, so there were fewer consequences to such an act.

For Celia, surrendering her body was far more dangerous, with many more potential consequences.

And yet she wanted to take that risk. She wanted to offer comfort to Aiden. She wanted to connect with him on a deeper level and help him see that it was safe for him to share his heart with her. She wanted to ease the ache he caused deep inside of her when he touched her or kissed her with such passion.

And yet being so bold as to take or even merely ask for what she wanted was terrifying. Celia had the barest bones of knowledge on what happened between men and women. She'd heard what she should expect when she was engaged to Gray's brother, the Earl of Stenfax. Certainly that would never be enough to properly seduce a man of experience like Aiden.

But she did want to get closer to him, to feel and understand the passion he inspired. To be his in every way that mattered. To make him hers in the same way.

She thrilled at that admission, made only to herself in her head. Even thinking those words, imagining what would happen between them if she overcame her fear, made her body throb. Her nipples tingled, and low in her stomach there was a flutter of need and pleasure.

But the question now was how to suggest such a thing to him without risking rejection. And also if she could manage to be bold enough to enact any plan she did concoct.





Chapter Twelve





"Your Grace, Lord Stalwood is here to see you."

It took a moment for the butler's words to register in Clairemont's head as he sat as his desk, staring at a ledger without truly seeing it. Tracing money had never been his favorite part of being a spy, but normally he wasn't too preoccupied to perform his duty.

"I am in-please show him here, Richards."

The servant bowed out and, in a moment, returned to announce Stalwood. He left them and Stalwood closed the door.

"No problems with the servants we hired, were there?" he asked.

Clairemont rose to shake his old friend's hand. "Not at all. The fact that the Duke of Clairemont fired his entire previous staff and brought on all new servants seems to have put the fear of God into them. I have never seen such swift and efficient work."

Stalwood smiled. "Well, the old staff got incredibly good references and have all landed on their feet."

"Then a happy ending for everyone, it seems," Clairemont said. "Sit, won't you? Would you like a brandy?"

Stalwood shook his head. "No, I ought not. I actually come bearing news about this fellow Perry that Grayson Danford mentioned last week."

At that, Clairemont took a step toward him. "Excellent. I have been wishing I could pursue that lead myself, but my situation here prevents it."

"Yes, these pesky duties of the titled," Stalwood teased.

"Even the falsely titled," Clairemont agreed with a frown. "Being a duke is stifling."

"You must be excited then at the prospect of ending the charade and going back to the field," Stalwood said. "And perhaps this information gets us that much closer to ending this."

Tension suddenly coiled in Clairemont like a tightly wound spring. "What have you discovered?"

"Perry is not in any way related to the real Clairemont," Stalwood began. "That was a lie on the duke's part, probably to subvert any questions Danford would have had about the man. Suggest a cousin as a good worker and there are fewer questions than if you suggest a stranger with a checkered past."         

     



 

"It implies he doesn't want Danford to know something," Clairemont agreed. "And that bodes well for Danford's lack of true involvement or knowledge about the real Clairemont's conspiracies."

"It does. In fact, our agents can find nothing at all that concretely ties Danford to Clairemont's true schemes."

Relief washed over Clairemont at those words. He had come to much the same conclusion already after observing Danford over the past few times they'd interacted, but a gut feeling and actual evidence were two different things.

"He's being used," he said. "With his fingers in so many pies, he's the perfect person to invest in and funnel money or use his ventures to trade secrets or goods."

"Exactly," Stalwood said with a quick nod.

"So is Perry a contact or a lackey?" Clairemont asked.

"A lackey, we believe. The real Clairemont had some other partner, one he was trying to keep hidden. Perry appears to be the conduit, so that the two men never have to interact directly."

"Could this mystery partner be our killer?"

"Very possibly," Stalwood said, digging into his pocket to retrieve a paper with a long list of observations from the last few days. "There's been some odd activity down in Withershank since the real Clairemont's death. Shipment reroutes, changes to those employed at the canal port. It can't be a coincidence."

Clairemont looked over it briefly. "No, it can't be. And Danford is unaware of all this. Which would be the last indication to make me certain of his innocence."

Stalwood nodded. "I agree. We can set him aside as a suspect and I would suggest finding out who else is investing in the canal project specifically. It might be the most direct route to our next villain."

Clairemont set the paper down on his desk and walked to the window where he stood staring outside. He should have been thrilled by this development. Being stalled was infinitely frustrating. Now he could move forward. He could close this case and walk away, happy in the fact that he had served his country and saved lives once again.

But he wasn't thinking about lives. He was thinking about something else entirely.

"I shouldn't have moved forward with courting Celia until we had worked on Danford more fully," he said, shaking his head at the faint reflection of himself in the glass. "Now that it is clear her brother-in-law isn't involved, that means I will tear her apart for nothing."