Chapter 6 #2
Her return use of his name made him sit up. The steel in his eyes met the steel she knew was in hers, but she would not back down. There would be no simpering from her, not on a matter of such importance. Her father had given her this task and she would be in charge.
She knew he didn’t understand her feelings. Why would he? He had all the advantages. Meanwhile, she had been pushed to the side, and she hated that all the world would believe he was correct to do as he wished.
The duke backed down first. “I’ve upset you, and that wasn’t my purpose. It was not my choice to leave you out of meeting with Masick. But Fromhurst and I met at his club, at his request,” he hastened to add.
“You could have suggested a meeting place where I might attend.”
“Not at that hour of night.”
He was right. No, it wasn’t his fault. Or, at least, not his fault alone. She also needed to remember that her charity had only been a dream until he became involved.
Still, that didn’t make being refused a role in important discussions easier. “You and Lord Penaly will meet at a club, even though it is morning?” she said tightly.
“Yes.” He paused and then said, “It is where men gather, my lady. There is no insult intended. However, I came here to keep you informed because it is your charity.”
He sounded sincere, but she was overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all. “Everyone thinks you are wonderful.”
“I take pains to give you full credit, my lady.”
“You do.” At last, she sat, momentarily defeated. Her tea was cold and her toast half eaten. A new idea formed. “I want to see the property.”
“It would be my honor to give you a tour of it.”
“You will not buy that property until I have seen it.”
“I’m walking it tomorrow. Masick is desperate and will give us a good price if I give him an answer immediately.”
“Then I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
He contemplated her a moment before saying carefully, “Greenwich is a day’s drive from here.”
She tilted her head, her suspicions rising. “Are you saying you don’t want me to go?”
He held up his hand as if to ward off any accusations. “I would be honored to have you as my guest at Elberling. That is my estate next to Masick’s land.”
She nodded, slightly mollified. “Thank you. I accept your invitation.”
He nodded and shifted in his chair as if relieved he had avoided another salvo from her. “Do you still wish me to see Penaly this morning?”
“Yes,” she conceded. “Because we will need his and all the other new patrons’ money to purchase the land.”
“I can purchase the land, my lady.”
It was a generous offer, one that spoke of his commitment to the charity…something, she realized she had rudely ignored.
The duke had also not referred to her by her given name after her flash of temper. He might not ever do so again. She had been wrong to lash out. It had not been well-mannered. But she would not apologize. She had needed to speak up for herself.
She also realized that she had placed her hand on the table in entreaty and let it rest there. His hand was also there, his fingers a mere inch from hers. She stared at his long, strong fingers. A swordsman’s hand. A capable hand.
Silence unspooled around them. She raised her gaze to find him watching her.
Outside the room, household sounds drifted down the hall as the world stirred.
But in this room, there was the deep quiet of something unspoken.
She wished she could divine what he was thinking.
He was not a simple man. He was more intelligent and altruistic than society knew.
And respect was a gift that ran both ways.
She spoke. “I appreciate your offer, Your Grace. I cannot buy the property— not yet, at least. Once the charity is set up, I will come into an inheritance.”
“An inheritance?”
“Yes, it is the terms of Father’s will. He’s giving each of my sisters and me a task. Once it is finished, we receive a gift of money. I intend to use my money for the charity. It doesn’t seem right to keep it for myself when others are in so much need.”
Something seemed to ease inside of him as if he was coming to a decision. He stood slowly.
She frowned. She wasn’t ready for him to leave.
He said, “I’ll send my coach for you in the morning. Half past ten? Is that good?”
Celeste couldn’t stop her smile. She was going to Greenwich with him. “Yes, Your Grace.”
He scowled. “Stop the formalities. You just called me Oliver. Please continue. I give you leave. We are in this endeavor together. Hopefully, one of these days you will trust me?”
She thought of his hand so close to hers a mere minute before. “I do trust you.”
“You are a poor liar, Celeste.”
That was true. She ducked her head so he couldn’t see how ridiculously pleased she was that he had used her given name again.
“You will need a chaperone—and don’t spout nonsense about being seven and twenty,” he warned as he started for the door. “I’ll not be your ruin.”
“Have the coach pick me up at Dame Beatrice’s residence, then.
” Celeste wasn’t about to ask her mother or one of her sisters to accompany her.
This was her adventure. Her way of honoring her late father’s memory .
. . and her opportunity to feel an equal to the duke.
She surprised herself at how important that was to her.
Bea wouldn’t distract or judge her like her family would.
“I’ll write the address.” She hurried down the hall to her brother’s study.
Scratching out the address, she left the room to find the duke waiting for her in the front hall.
She handed him the slip of paper. “Thank you,” she said.
He tipped his hat and left.
The moment the door shut, Celeste almost crumpled with exhaustion. Standing up for oneself was trying business... especially against him. Everything about Oliver challenged her. He was too bold, too quick…too handsome.
Oh, yes, she was more than attracted to him.
She needed to remember he wasn’t interested in her. Not truly. He was a rake. Rakes knew how to tap into women’s senses, into their emotions. It was their nature. He couldn’t help but lure her to him.
Except, she was stronger than most women, she told herself… and prayed that was true as she headed up the stairs to tell George a story about Dame Beatrice inviting her for a visit.
Oliver expertly steered his high-perch phaeton around a couple crossing the road as he drove away. Lady Celeste—Celeste, he liked her name, and he liked that she pushed back against him.
Because he liked her.
True, she was a guarded creature. She didn’t trust easily, but neither did he.
She’d also changed his life. Because of her, his peers now considered him a leader, a man of substance.
Celeste had done that. Celeste had created the opportunity that led others to see him for who he was.
However, something else going on.
He wasn’t a dullard. He knew when a woman was attracted to him. However, he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt the same in return. Her approval was important to him. When he was with her, he felt purposeful, and he liked her speaking to him as an equal.
And when her eyes lit up with indignation, when she challenged him, when she spoke her mind, he found her magnificent.