Chapter 8
Celeste woke up confused. She had been attracted to the duke, to his reputation, and even to his arrogance.
However, she was seeing a different side to him, a human one.
If he’d been as arrogant as he seemed in London, she could ignore her attraction to him.
Instead, here in the country, he’d deferred to his butler and had acted a bit sheepish that he hadn’t known more about his own house.
One of his own houses, she reminded herself.
“I do find him like him,” she whispered to the ceiling.
But he could do better than her. She had no doubt every heiress in London chased him.
“I’m not going to lose my head over him.
” It was a promise to herself, one she intended to keep because nothing was worse than pining for what she couldn’t have.
She put a leg over the edge of the bed. “My charity,” she said aloud. “Mine.” But her declaration sounded hollow. She wouldn’t have reached the point of buying property or even holding a ball for subscribers without Oliver.
And while Celeste wished she had more control over the planning of the ball, she could admit that Mr. Peters, the duke’s man, was better organized than she could ever have been. So, perhaps she should stop being defensive. She was the one who had begged for Oliver’s help.
Less than an hour later, she was dressed for riding and on her way down to the breakfast room. She heard voices and entered the room to see Beatrice and the duke at the table together. Beatrice was laughing and sought to cover her mouth with her napkin.
To Celeste’s surprise, Muggins sat on his haunches on the duke’s lap. Right there at the table.
“What is so funny?” Celeste asked.
“Watch,” Beatrice ordered as the duke tore off a bit of the bacon on his plate and offered it to the dog.
Instead of being docile and grateful, Muggins ducked under Salcombe’s arm and stole the larger piece of the meat, gobbling it fast.
“He’s a rascal,” Oliver said, rubbing the dog’s ear with affection.
At that moment, Mrs. Hillsdale came to a halt in the doorway, staring at the dog. “I have been looking all over for him. I beg your pardon, Your Grace. He should be outside where he belongs. Come now, Mister.” She went to reach for the pup, but Salcombe stopped her with a frown.
“I have been told by one and all that Muggins spends most of his time in the house.”
Mrs. Hillsdale dropped her hands, her expression stricken.
She glanced at the footman by the door who ducked his head.
Turning back to the duke, she replied, “He will not in the future. I must also confess I lost him last night. I spent a good amount of time looking for him. However, I fear he is a bit of a weasel when it comes to having his way.”
“He was with me,” the duke said, “And please do not worry. Muggins is welcome in the house, provided he stays away from my boots,” he said, reiterating the warning he’d given the day before. However, this time, he directed his comment to the dog who acted unconcerned.
“He will, Your Grace. I promise he will.” The housekeeper picked up Muggins.
“Actually, Mrs. Hillsdale, he is a fine character. I imagine Muggins rules the place when I am not here.”
“Mr. Avery likes him, so he does let him do whatever he pleases,” she replied.
“Ah, yes, I am certain it is Avery who has spoiled him.”
“I certainly do not,” she answered, but she was smiling. Celeste noticed the footman seemed relieved that all would be well. Muggins was obviously a favorite in the household among the staff.
After the dog had been carried away, Celeste helped herself to the dishes on the sideboard. “Has Muggins made a dog lover of you, Your Grace?”
“I like Muggins more than most of the members of Parliament.” He set his napkin aside. “Are you ready to view the Masick property, my lady?”
Celeste hopped to her feet, picking up the bun from her plate that she hadn’t finished eating. “We’ll see you later, Beatrice.”
The duke had arranged a lovely bay mare for Celeste to ride. The animal was well-trained with a gentle temperament. He rode his beast of a horse, Johnny.
Again, conversation flowed easily between them. They talked about everything from events of the day to books they’d enjoyed to plans for the charity as they cut across the plowed fields. Oliver knew the way, and she was happy to follow. She enjoyed being on the back of a good horse again.
“I have been thinking about what rules we should have for the men living on the property,” she said.
“What have you decided?”
“That most of the rules should be determined by the men themselves. After all, they were all soldiers once. They know how to keep good order.”
He nodded his agreement. “I also accept how important their dogs may be to them. However, you mentioned cats. I don’t know about cats. Cats don’t strike me as loyal to anyone.”
“They can be very companionable,” Celeste assured him.
“When I was a girl, I had an orange tabby named Mortimer who followed me everywhere. He’d even let me dress him up in a doll bonnet.
He could open closed doors. He’d jump up, catch the latch, and pull down on it.
I also adore seeing a cat napping in the window seat of a room. ”
Oliver made a face. “I’ll wait to be convinced.”
She laughed. “All we need is a cat with a personality as big as the one Muggins has.”
“That would be hard to find,” he assured her, and she promised him that, someday, he’d meet a cat who would change his mind. She knew it wouldn’t be hard. She was quickly learning that Oliver had a big heart. It was becoming what she admired the most about him.
They were met at the appointed place by a Mr. Vickery, Lord Masick’s land agent, who gave them the tour. There was a house, but it needed work. Celeste was a bit dismayed by how much would need to be repaired.
However, Oliver assured her the pensioners would be happy to see to the repairs. “The barn and stables are in good shape,” he pointed out.
She agreed. “What of families, though? The men should be able to start families.”
“They can build the cottages themselves. The charity will provide the materials.”
Celeste liked the idea, especially after Mr. Vickery showed them a level pasture that would make it easy to create a village of cottages. By the end of the tour, she was impressed with the property and grateful to Oliver for having found it.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.”
“The Forest Hare is down the road a bit,” Mr. Vickery offered helpfully. They said their goodbyes and rode to the public house that wasn’t far from the main road.
The duke ordered ale and a steak while Celeste chose a roasted chicken and some cider. After the serving woman left them, she assumed they would continue to discuss their plans for the pensioners.
Instead, Salcombe surprised her by asking, “Am I forgiven for naming the charity Our Brave Soldiers without your approval?”
She blushed, slightly embarrassed by how angry she’d been. “You have made up for the transgression. And it is a good title.”
“But have I regained your trust?”
He was serious, she realized. He sounded as if her answer mattered to him.
She warned herself to be careful, to not read too much into the question. Keeping her tone light, she said, “I thought dukes, especially one considered to be a dragon, didn’t worry about what people thought of them.”
“I’m not asking ‘people.’ I’m asking you.
I know I can be domineering. However, this charity means a great deal to me.
I don’t wish to live a shallow life. I also feel an affinity for those men.
All any of us desire is an opportunity to be treated with respect.
I believe we will give that to a good number of men who deserve it. ”
“It is the purpose of this whole endeavor,” she agreed. Her father would have been proud.
“So, I ask again, am I forgiven?”
“There is nothing to forgive, Oliver. You were acting as you thought best.”
The corner of his mouth quirked to one side, and then he said, “I remember you reacted with strong feelings.” He paused and then added, “However, I have tried to earn your trust.”
“Does it matter, Your Grace?” she asked.
“It matters to me, Celeste.”
He sounded sincere. She could feel him watching her closely. And suddenly, the air between them seemed thick with unspoken questions, questions she would never ask.
Deep within her, she could hear George’s voice saying he’s interested in you.
She took in his features, the intensity in his eyes, the lines of his nobly handsome face, the broad shoulders, the man who could have any woman he wanted. Why would he settle for her?
In that moment, she felt vulnerable. She didn’t like the feeling. For the briefest second, her heart urged her to risk all and confess that not only did she trust him, but she also admired him—no, that wasn’t the truth. She was falling in love with him.
Of course, she was just one of a legion of women who yearned for Oliver. And she needed to remember that. Her pride demanded it.
She stood. “We should be leaving.” She didn’t wait for him but marched for the door. He had no choice but to stay behind and pay for their meal. She waited outside, taking deep breaths and having a stern, silent lecture with herself. She had no desire to appear a fool.
He joined her. “Celeste—” he started, but she interrupted.
“The groom has fetched the horses,” she said brightly, as if all was fine. “Look, here he is.” She didn’t wait for his help to mount but let the groom assist her. Soon they were on their way back to Elberling.
She spoke first, returning the conversation to safe topics, like the charity, or the weather, or what a sweet mount she was riding. He answered politely, but she sensed his annoyance, and the earlier ease between them had vanished.
They were in sight of Elberling’s arched walls when he suddenly reached for her rein and pulled her mare to a stop. Celeste frowned. “What is the matter?”
“You ask me what is the matter? You have been chattering without pause ever since the inn.”
“I thought I was making conversation,” she replied, her heart in her throat.
“You were putting me off.” He let go of the rein.
“The one thing I’ve always counted on with you, Celeste, is your honesty.
Your directness. However, something is bothering you, and don’t push me away with more talk about the weather.
Your eyes give away everything you are thinking.
You became upset when I asked if you trusted me. What is it, Celeste? What have I done?”
You let me fall in love with you. She kept that thought to herself. Instead, she met his eye with what she hoped was a neutral expression and said, “Nothing is wrong. I trust you.”
The lines of his face hardened with disappointment.
“I do,” she pressed. “I trust you.”
Without a word, he turned his horse toward the house.
Celeste watched him ride away. The man was maddening.
She had the right to keep her thoughts to herself.
And besides, who cared if she trusted him or not?
She was surprised that he did…and then alarmed that their relationship, something she valued, was in danger of being destroyed.
She kicked her horse forward. Once she was alongside him again, she said, “Why are you acting this way?”
“What way, Celeste?”
“As if I—” She paused, searching for the right words, words that didn’t reveal her own fears, doubts, and desires. “As if I have disappointed you.”
They had reached the front steps. Grooms ran forward to take their horses. This was not the time for an argument, and yet, Celeste didn’t want these sour feelings to remain between them.
She waited until she had dismounted, expecting him to wait for her.
Instead, in a breach of manners, he was already moving toward the front door.
She hurried to catch him. He had to know she was behind him.
She followed him into the house. “Your Grace,” she dared to say, conscious of the servants around them.
Muggins came charging forward to greet the duke, his nails scrabbling on the wood floor. He bent down to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. Celeste used this moment to say in the lowest voice possible, “I do trust you.”
Oliver straightened. He handed his hat and riding gloves to a footman before turning to her and saying, “Then be honest with me.”
“I am.”
His somber eyes met hers. They narrowed slightly, and then, without a word to her, he went up the stairs, Muggins following happily at his heels.