A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2)(42)

"But he didn't. At least not physically." She let out her breath in a long, shaky sigh. "Just as I suspected, the idea of being linked to a duke was too much for him to resist. He told me if I married Clairemont, I would get what I wanted. But then he said something that turned my blood to ice."

"What did he say?" Rosalinde gasped.

"That I was like him," Celia whispered, dipping her head. "Like that was something to be proud of. I was repulsed by the idea."

"And that was when you told Clairemont … John Dane … the truth about our past, our family," Rosalinde breathed.

"Yes."

Rosalinde was silent for what felt like an eternity, and Celia couldn't tell if she were angry or frustrated or just disappointed. At last Rosalinde took her hand. "Even if this had all worked out, you know Grandfather lies."

"I know," Celia whispered. "But I'm not like you. I have nothing to fill the emptiness that is in my heart. I thought I could fill it with John, but now that he is gone, I feel like if I could find our father … "         

     



 

She trailed off as Rosalinde's eyes filled with tears. "I know. And I wish I could give that to you. To both of us. Gray hasn't given up."

"And John said he would use his resources. There is no reason not to believe he still might, even though he'll never be in my life again," Celia agreed.

"So your bargain with Grandfather ends up being meaningless," Rosalinde said.

"I suppose so."

Rosalinde leaned in. "Do you love him? John Dane. Not the character he played or the bargain he represented to you. The man he truly was."

Celia nodded. "I do. I love him very much. More than I ever thought possible."

Rosalinde traced her cheek with a sad smile. "Then let me give you the same advice you gave me on my wedding day not so long ago. Tell him."

Celia jumped up, trying to run from the thrill of possibility her sister's words represented. "How?" she asked, almost more to calm herself then to hear her sister's response. "He is gone. Dead to all who know."

Rosalinde pursed her lips as she rose to her own feet. "Come with me."

"Where?" Celia asked, confused by this sudden change in her sister.

Rosalinde grabbed her hand and all but dragged her from the room. "We're going to resolve this. One way or another. Right now."





Celia shook her head as the servant who had led her, Rosalinde and Gray to the parlor left to seek his master. "I don't want to see Lord Stalwood," she hissed.

"Celia, you cannot run from this," Rosalinde said, moving toward her. "If you love this man, at least you must take a chance."

Gray slipped an arm around Rosalinde. "Easy now, love. No need to push her into a corner."

Celia pushed past the couple. "You don't understand. It is easy for you."

"You know it wasn't always!" Rosalinde said. "You know how much we struggled to be together. And it was worth it in the end."

"Worth all of it and more," Gray said with a nod.

Before Celia could argue or point out that their situation was vastly different from her own, the door behind them opened and Stalwood stepped in.

"Mr. and Mrs. Danford, Miss Fitzgilbert," he said with a confused expression for them all. "I didn't expect you. Is everything well?"

Rosalinde shot Celia a look and Celia glared back. When it was clear the sisters were at a stalemate, Gray stepped forward with a sigh. "We are fine, thank you, my lord. There is no trouble, if that is your worry."

"No trouble? That is untrue." Celia turned her ire toward Stalwood. She couldn't help but blame this man even though her rational mind told her it was an unfair action.

"Celia!" Rosalinde burst out.

Celia turned on her. "You forced me to come here. You cannot be angry that I react how I react now."

"I forced you to come here because I know you are in pain. I hate to see you this way." Rosalinde waved her hand at the earl. "And this man could help you."

Stalwood was seemingly undaunted by the odd exchange being played out before him. "You have something to say to me, Miss Fitzgilbert?"

She took her time in looking at him. He had a rather kind face, actually. And knowing he had saved the man she loved from certain doom made it almost impossible to hate him as she wished to do.

She sighed. There was no escaping this humiliation now, so she might as well face it. "I want to talk to you. But may I have a moment alone?"

Gray and Rosalinde exchanged a look, as if they weren't certain leaving them was the best idea. But Stalwood waved them off. "We'll be fine. My roses are beginning to bud in the back and it's very pretty. Why don't you two take a stroll while I talk to Miss Fitzgilbert?"

Rosalinde let Gray lead her from the room with only the briefest back glances at Celia. Celia ignored her, keeping her attention on Stalwood.

When they were gone, he crossed to a sideboard and poured a glass of sherry. He came back to her and held it out.

She stared at the liquor, then took it. "Thank you."

"You look as though you need it. I assume this mess with Clairemont's death announcement and Dane's departure has been difficult for you."

"It has," she whispered. "Is John … is John well?"

Stalwood's expression softened. "He is. After such a large and involved case as this, I tend to allow my agents time away. He is taking that time now, but I received word from him recently that he is fine." His face fell. "Well enough."

She moved forward at his hesitation. "His wound is healing? Is he having trouble with it?"         

     



 

Stalwood's eyes widened at her focused attention. "His wound is healing, my dear. In truth, I think he suffers more from losing … losing you."

She caught her breath and turned away, uncertain how to proceed. Stalwood was offering her hope and the idea of taking it was terrifying to her core.

"He has lost a great deal in his life," she whispered at last.

Stalwood was silent a beat before he said, "Told you that, did he?"

She nodded as she faced him. "He told me about his parents, about that bastard who took him when he was a child, about his life on the streets."

Stalwood stared. "All that? I don't think he's ever told anyone all that before. I doubt I know it all, in truth."

"I can't believe that," Celia said, sipping her drink slowly. "After all, you are as close to him as family. You saved him."

"He was very much worth saving."

"I agree wholeheartedly." She tilted her head. "You-you love him, don't you?"

Stalwood flinched, as if saying those things out loud was uncomfortable. She supposed it would be. Most men, especially those of rank, were raised to avoid emotion at all costs. But when his expression cleared, he nodded.

"My wife died many years ago and we were never blessed with children. I couldn't bear to find another woman to take her place and present me with the heirs Society demanded, so I put all my energy into my work. My spies. But when John appeared … well, he was different."

"He was your ward," she said.

He shook his head. "No. He was my son. He still is, even if we never discuss it. You are correct that I love him. Am I correct that you love him, as well?"

"Yes," she whispered. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared at a man she had once seen as her enemy, but now was linked to through a man who'd told her she could never have him.

But standing here, it was clear how much she wanted John. She ached for him. Rosalinde had said she had to tell him. But would that matter? Would it work?

Was she brave enough to try?

Stalwood watched her emotions play over her face and sighed. "That certainly makes the risk I took in revealing my secret to you more worth it."

"You did it to protect him, even though it put him in danger," Celia said.

He jerked out a nod. "As I said, he is my son." He looked at her long and hard. "If you could have him, Miss Fitzgilbert, would you want him?"

She nodded without hesitation. "I would. If I could see him, tell him what was in my heart, if I could get past those barriers he places between us … I would very much want him."

"But you see the issues it would create," Stalwood said evenly.

"Issues?" she repeated.

"Not only will John put up barriers to protect you from yourself, but he will never be able to return to Society. His role in this case was far too public-he would likely be recognized and that could cause problems. Even danger. If you choose him, you would lose your standing."

She blinked. "Do you think I give a damn about standing?"

"I must think you do a little, based on your engagement to an earl and your courtship with what you thought was a duke."

She glared at him. "I have been accused of being a title-hunter before, my lord. Please don't insult me by doing it when you don't know me, nor the circumstances that led to either of those decisions. I don't give a damn about titles. I don't give a damn about Society. I only care about John. If I could have him, I would walk through fire. I would give up all that I have and all that I am."