Chapter 2 #3
“You would not mock him so if you met him,” James said. “He is a man of noble reputation and character and not easily teased.”
“Then he and I are entirely different,” she said glibly, “for I have neither a noble reputation nor a noble character.”
“Do not speak thusly,” James said, frowning at her. “You are too hard on yourself, Celia. You always have been. Perhaps, for some of these people, your reputation precedes you.” He shrugged. “Maybe that is the case, but you must not malign your character. You are as noble as they come.”
“And you are a flatterer, as always,” she retorted. She looked around the room, noting a few other guests but no one older who would fit the dowager duchess’ age. “Where is Lady Bentinck now?” she asked.
James shook his head. “Likely in her rooms,” he said. “I have not seen much of her. I think she submits to her son’s will in the matter of our grand wedding, but otherwise, will have little to do with it. As far as I’ve heard, she is still in full mourning.”
“When did the late Lord Bentinck pass away?” Celia asked.
“You are asking far too many questions,” Andrew said, coming up suddenly beside them.
He had left their father back at the fireplace, still talking with Sir Richard.
“I can see you two over here, gossiping like ladies of the ton, and I must protest that it is not befitting either of your characters.”
James turned to Andrew with an expression of exasperation. “Hardly,” he said. “I was only telling your sister about our hosts.” He addressed Celia. “The late Lord Bentinck passed away a year ago,” he said, “but it seems he left his wife in great grief. She has not recovered.”
“A year?” Andrew said. “I am surprised she is not in half-mourning yet.”
“Perhaps she loved him very much,” Celia said quietly. “Grief is not the sort of thing that follows a societal timeline.”
“You don’t think anything follows a societal timeline,” Andrew retorted, bowing briefly, and walking away.
James watched him go. “Your brother seems more uptight than ever,” he said. “Was it a long journey?”
“Made longer by the company,” Celia said, feeling suddenly tired. “For both of us,” she added, wanting to be fair. “I believe I grated on him at least as much as he grated on me.”
Helena separated herself from the conversation of her companions and hurried across the room to Celia’s side, holding out her arms to meet her cousin.
“How good it is to see you,” she said, smiling brightly. “I saw you already met Lady Cavendish. What do you think?”
“Oh yes,” James said drily. “Do gossip about my wife-to-be within earshot of me, please.”
“You needn’t be cross,” Celia chided him.
“I have only lovely things to say. She is quite beautiful and seems composed and elegant. I look forward to spending more time with her and forming a more informed opinion.” She nodded towards Lady Marie and Lady Annabelle, standing in the background.
They were talking to each other but looking at Celia discreetly as they did so.
“Your new friends seem to have an interest in me,” she said.
Helena looked behind her and shrugged. “They have an interest in everyone,” she said airily. “During the short time I was conversing with them, they seemed to cover the whispered gossip of everyone in this room.”
“What was it they had heard about me?” Celia asked.
Helena looked uncomfortable. “I am not sure I remember,” she said.
Celia knew what they’d heard. A hoyden—scandalous—a woman who causes problems wherever she goes.“I’m sure talk of Lord Elliot’s dinner party has made it all the way here already,” she said slowly.
“Not Lord Elliot’s, but the Winter Ball—” Helena stopped herself abruptly, realising that she’d accidentally revealed the gossip.
“I didn’t do anything scandalous at the Winter Ball,” Celia protested. She caught James’ significant glare and added lamely, “Other than that little argument I had with the soldier from Bath, but that was his doing. He was not being entirely polite.”
“A little argument, perhaps,” Helena said quietly, “but your voice does tend to carry.”
Her expression softened, and she laid a hand gently on Celia’s arm. “It is no matter,” she said. “I’m sure you will make a good impression on Lady Annabelle and Lady Marie when you have an opportunity.”
Celia was not so sure, but she felt no need to belabour the subject at present. Instead, she looped her arm through Helena’s and drew her cousin close.
“Shall we go about the house and explore?” she asked. “I saw some fascinating paintings when we came in, and I suppose a house like this is rife with sculptures as well. I imagine every old statesman from Democrates of Aphidna to Charles Fox is pictured in these halls.”
“Not Democrates, but I do have a rather compelling statue of Philocrates in the main hall.” It was a new voice speaking, deep and smooth, from just behind Celia.
She turned around quickly and saw that a tall gentleman had come up while she was talking. He was a striking personage, with wavy dark hair that curled nearly to his shoulders and stormy green eyes.
He was dressed in fine clothes but had none of the fopperies of a dandy. He looked at Celia with something like amusement lurking in his fine eyes.
She caught her breath. “I suppose one Greek is as good as the next,” she said, trying to gain her feet again.
“I prefer Philocrates myself, considering his work on the peace treaty of 346 BC,” he said, turning and smiling at James. It bothered Celia that look—as though only the gentleman present would understand such an obscure historical reference.
She drew herself up a little taller. “Democrates supported the Peace of Philocrates,” she countered coolly, “and additionally aided in preserving that peace by helping to obtain oaths from surrounding rulers. He negotiated treaties. Some might say he did more to bring about the practical peace than Philocrates ever attempted.”
Seeing the look of surprise stretch across the gentleman’s face was gratifying. He did not give ground, however. His voice a little hard, he looked at Celia. “He was no great orator.”
“But he was a great wit,” she said quickly. “And some would say that is of more consequence in the long run.”
“Wit, in a statesman, has very little consequence,” the man said calmly, “if it is not included in the annals of history by proper oration. How are we to know what Democrates stood for if we have such comparatively few documents with his speeches intact?”
“By his actions, of course,” Celia said, a little sharply. She did not mean to be sharp; it was only that the conversation topic was something she was interested in—passionate about, even.
It was so rare that a gentleman would deign to engage her in a conversation of any substance, and there was something exhilarating about this man’s eye contact and pointed dialogue.
He is treating me as though my ideas have merit.
It was a simple thing, really, but still something Celia had been deprived of her entire life.
Too late, she realised how uncomfortable Helena seemed with the conversation. Her face seemed pale, and she pulled her arm away from Celia as if to distance herself from her outspoken cousin. James, as always, jumped in to smooth things over.
“I should, of course, introduce our host,” he said, nodding towards the tall gentleman, whose eyes were still fixed on Celia with a curious, unreadable expression. “Lord Bentinck, you are already acquainted with Miss Helena Warwick, of course. This is her cousin and companion, Miss Celia Maynard.”
Bentinck smiled slightly.
“A pleasure to meet you both,” he said. “I think I heard, as I was walking up, that you were considering exploring the grounds. Please, feel free to go wherever you find an unlocked door. We have spent some time preparing for our guests and want your stay to be as comfortable as possible.”
“You are too kind. Although one might suppose,” Celia pointed out, “that what lies behind the locked doors should really hold our interest.”
“Celia,” Helena said in a low voice of warning.
Lord Bentinck did not respond but merely smiled again. There was a light of amusement in his eyes when he looked at Celia, and it delighted her more than she cared to admit. He bowed and took his leave of the conversation.
When Celia felt certain that he was out of earshot, she turned to James.
“Tell me about Lord Bentinck,” she said. “He seems a worthy man indeed. Handsome, well-mannered, and quite quick on his feet.”
Helena gasped quietly. “Celia,” she said, “it is entirely inappropriate for you to speak so freely about your attraction to a man you have barely met. You are showing your hand too soon.”
James smiled. “I don’t think she means any harm, Helena. Besides that, I’ve known Celia my entire life, and I have never heard her speak of any gentleman with anything besides disdain. It is certainly worth noting that Bentinck is the first to catch her attention.”
“I am always truthful,” Celia said archly, “and I have never before met with a gentleman worthy of anything besides my disdain. They seem to be all of the dullest stock, completely concerned with their own affairs and ignorant of the needs of people around them.” She smiled at James.
“Excepting you, of course, and we would never be well suited to matrimony.”
“Matrimony!” Helena cried. “Celia, you simply can’t go speaking of such things without proper introductions and conversation.”
“You may rest easy,” Celia said, laughing despite herself. “I am not announcing any desire to marry the man—only to get to know him better. He seems interesting to me, which is saying quite a lot, I assure you.”
She looked over at Bentinck, who was speaking now with her father and Sir Richard.
“Please, James,” she said. “Take me with you to speak with him. I want to know more about him.”
She looked back at him with a wicked note of teasing in her voice. “And if you don’t take me, the burden of revealing his true nature shall be on your shoulders alone. I shall simply pepper our conversation with enquiries regarding him until you at last relent.”
James laughed. “It is no great threat,” he said, “for I dearly enjoy speaking well of my friends. “Still, I think further conversation can be arranged. You are already introduced, after all. We shall wait until he is free of his current conversation, and then I shall grant you your chance.”