Chapter Forty-Eight #2
“I used to steal coins from Monsieur’s purse to buy your likeness from the print shops. I had five of them under my pillow, smeared with kisses. I got caned for stealing: the second indication of love.”
“Kisses?” The duke groaned, leaning into her, then bit her neck lightly. For some hot, breathless minutes, the duke’s mouth played havoc with her nerves until a cough from the open door of the sacristy made them realise they weren’t quite alone.
The duke moved away; they were still sitting too close. Their fingers tangled and played.
After a time, the duke said, “You have no idea how lonely I was back then. Lonely and scared. It’s beyond strange to think of you over the sea, too young for me by far, but coming to me by the only way possible.
Through time. The long and painful way. It would have been easier to bear if I could have known you were coming—my very own piece of the world. A place to belong. A person who would—”
The duke cut off suddenly, but Celine heard what she had meant to say. A person who would love me. The duke didn’t dare say it out loud as though, even now, she feared she might be wrong.
Celine wanted to weep. She wanted to shake the duke.
She said, evenly, “I do love you.” And then, “I haven’t exactly told you the truth about what happened after you left me in Paris, or, not all of it.
I thought about you a lot. I pined for you.
I thought of writing to you, but was too proud.
I couldn’t believe I loved you … I had met you, and you exceeded all expectations. ”
The duke’s face was flushed, her fingers jerky on Celine’s. She cleared her throat and said, “If the likenesses had been any good, you would have recognised me though, don’t you think?”
Celine exclaimed and hit the duke’s leg, which the duke made a pretence at dodging, her mouth split in a broad smile. Settling, she rubbed Celine’s hand over her cheeks and brow and made a happy sound.
“How did you find me?” Celine thought to ask. Surely Lords was still in session? The duke must have left and come directly here. How? Not even Louise had known where Celine would be.
“I thought—” The duke hesitated and looked at her sideways. “It seemed to me you might find some comfort in the faith you practiced as a child. Your … mother’s faith.”
She looked about with a cynical eye at the lofty stone walls and the ceiling that was textured with gold. “Why this church, though? If I wanted my mother, there are more modest churches in London.”
“But none,” the duke said quietly, “so close to home.”
She hadn’t particularly thought about where she was going this morning when she left Howard House for the last time: She had simply wandered into the nearest door that would have her. But the duke was right. She had stayed near the house that felt like home to her, from which she was now an exile.
“What is it?” the duke said. “What has made you angry?”
She realised she was pressing her thumbs hard into the duke’s palms—a repetitive, kneading motion—and stopped.
“It’s nothing,” she said. She gave pause. “It’s taking some adjustment, that’s all. There are certain aspects of our situation that hurt. Howard House seems to be one of them.”
“Celine.” The duke slid her hands up Celine’s forearms and cupped both her elbows. “I don’t follow. Why speak of pain, now?”
She looked up, frowning. Was the duke being purposely dense? Or were the difficulties faced by a mistress simply invisible to a duke?
“I doubt,” she said, “you’ve housed your other mistresses at Howard House. But you must see that I cannot live there. It cannot be my home any longer.”
The duke had leaned back to see her more clearly.
The crystal eyes had sharpened, the brow was down in a forbidding line; the mouth looked as though it never smiled.
It was the face she had seen the night she arrived in London.
This was her lover, the Duke of Howard, the most powerful woman in Britain.
“Does the idea of my having mistresses disturb you? Then you should know I haven’t had a mistress since I returned from Paris three years ago.
If my house displeases you, I will lease it out and build us another.
If it is England that displeases you, we will travel the world until we find the place you wish to call home. Celine, can you doubt me?”
It was her turn to pull back, full of confusion. “I didn’t pay the price for your future just to have you throw it away.”
“Then we will stay,” the duke said carefully. “And if you have no objection, we will live at Howard House.”
“Are you purposely misunderstanding me?” She spoke quietly so as not to be overheard, but with some force. She felt near tears. “If it is discovered I am your mistress, there will be consequences for you. I cannot live with you at Howard House any longer!”
The duke’s hands tightened convulsively on her elbows and then let go. She surged to her feet and turned her back on Celine. Her hands went to her head, and she stood motionless for a long, fraught moment.
Then, “My mistress?” she shouted, spinning back to Celine. “If all you want is to be my mistress, Celine Genet, you can go to the devil. You will be my wife, or nothing at all.”
Celine found she was standing as well, and shaking, and so angry she could feel her teeth throbbing. “You can’t marry me, you raving lunatic! This is why I didn’t tell you about Lord Wroth, this is exactly why!”
“No,” the duke said. “You’re wrong. I would do anything for you? You told me you meant it. Or did you only mean, I would take any harm for you, I would lose everything for you, but not I would reach for happiness for you, I would become a duchess for you.”
“I’m not … I’m not wrong!” she said, affronted, her mind spinning.
The duke came closer, glowering down at her. “Yes, you are. Why are you allowed to take damage for me, but I’m not allowed to take any for you? I would do anything to have you, Celine.” Then quickly, sternly, “To have you for my wife.”
“Oh, it sounds very romantic, doesn’t it. It won’t be like that, Kate. Whatever it is you’re imagining. Your power and standing will be damaged, perhaps beyond repair. Everything you’ve built.”
Kate scoffed, the image of aristocratic arrogance. “You underestimate my power. And you aren’t listening. You risked your entire future for me. Why won’t you let me do the same for you?”
“Because—” she said angrily, then stopped. There was no logical way to argue the question. There were only two reasons to hesitate: because she believed the duke didn’t love her enough to persist through the consequences of their marriage, or because she believed a duke was worth more than she was.
“You see,” the duke said, her eyes brightening, intensifying. She stepped closer and gently grasped Celine’s elbows again, pulling their bodies together. “I’m right. And you’re wrong. Admit it.”
She scowled up at the duke, her mouth in a pout, but already she could feel happiness coming for her, coming to undo it all. Beyond conscious thought, and impossible to stop. “The king will have something to say about it.”
The duke threw her head back and laughed, rich and warm. “Let him,” she said. “It is my life, not his.”
KATE SHIFTED AND took Celine’s face between her hands, turning it into the sunlight. She could see her whole face now, without shadow. For a moment there was still something wonderfully French in her expression: a charming blend of cynicism, superiority, and amusement.
Then Celine pressed her face into Kate’s hand and her skin flushed where it touched Kate’s skin. The green eyes slanted to look up at her. She felt as though a magical creature had come to her and, quivering, was allowing itself to be held. Her heart was full.
“Tell me you’ll be my wife,” she said. “I would like to hear you say it.”
Celine’s eyes became very bright. “I will be your wife, Kate.”
Pleasure ran like summer warmth over her skin. “Say you’ll marry me.”
“I will marry you.”
She was close now. She whispered against Celine’s lips. “Say you’ll be mine.”
“I am yours,” Celine said.
What she felt needed expression. It wasn’t sadness that invited tears, or happiness that invited laughter. She touched her lips softly to Celine’s, and all the world came into alignment; every sound resolved into one humming note. She loved and was loved.
She kissed Celine’s blushing cheeks, her laughing, tender mouth. God, kissing Celine. It was like drinking the sun. Somewhere, someone was loudly coughing. She ignored it.
“We’re in a church,” Celine said, visibly gathering herself. “So let me make these promises with a ring.”
“Hm?” She had her hands buried deep in Celine’s hair. She needed to unpin Celine’s hair, and then she needed to remove the rest of Celine’s clothes.
Celine said, “Give me your hand.”
She stroked Celine’s neck. The skin felt unbelievably good. Like contact with Celine lit her own skin up. She was starting to feel drugged. She never wanted to stop. Celine was here. Celine was here and Celine wanted her. Celine loved her. “Later,” she said thickly.
“Now.” Celine disentangled herself and stepped back.
She made to follow, but Celine took another step back. “Patience,” Celine said with a coy smile that Kate wanted to worship on her knees. Celine removed her glove and slipped a ring from her forefinger.
It was Kate’s sapphire ring. The ring Anne Howard had gifted her on her christening. The ring she had slipped onto Celine’s finger before she left Paris. The ring that had been a promise, which Celine had carried back to her, through time.
Its surface bore the marks of Celine’s teeth; it had come back to her permanently changed.
Celine stepped forward, and Kate offered up her hand.
“I will wed thee,” Celine said solemnly, and slid the ring back over Kate’s smallest finger, where it belonged.
“I will be thine, and love and obey thee.” For the first time, she heard Celine’s native accent.
The words were straight from the forested mountains where she had been a child; they were straight from the heart.
“And I thee,” she said in the same language, and pulled Celine gently to her. “Until death us do part.”
For long minutes they stayed together in silence as blue light filtered down into the sanctuary.
Eventually, Celine moved and said, “The archbishop owes you for the mines. Let’s marry this evening.”
“No.” Kate shook her head. “I won’t rush this. We will marry in a manner befitting the Duke and Duchess of Howard.”
Celine laughed. “No one will come! Or maybe Royce will come. Will that be worse than no one at all?”
Kate shook her head again and smoothed some hair back from Celine’s face.
“Everything will be done properly. The banns will be read. We’ll marry in Westminster.
Everyone will be invited, and everyone will come.
The wedding breakfast will seat five hundred, and each will receive a silver spoon painted with your likeness.
And it will all pale in comparison to you.
You will outshine the sun. You will be the most beautiful bride they have ever seen. ”
“You cannot speak and make it so. It’s not going to be that easy.”
“I can.”
She would.
She could clearly see how it would unfold, as though it had already happened.
Celine had made herself beloved last night at the Demi Lux and infamous this morning with her pamphlet.
The desperate, scrappy refugee with a colourful past who had charmed the highest society and brought the great Lord Wroth low.
Songs would be sung about her in the streets tomorrow.
Celine had already won Lord Seaton over once, despite Lord Seaton knowing the truth. Celine would do it again, this time on the public stage. More, Lord Seaton knew she had only kept her title today thanks to Celine’s act of self-sacrifice.
With Lord Seaton leading the way, society would scramble for the chance to attend the wedding of the century. She had no doubts about how quickly Celine would win them all over after that.
She pulled Celine closer, within the circle of her arms. Celine was shaking her head in half scepticism, half wonder. Celine didn’t see it yet, but she would.
“You will become the most sought-after guest in English society and a political hostess to be reckoned with. Everyone will envy your wit, your beauty, your intelligence. But only I will kiss you every evening before you sleep and every morning when you wake. In those dark hours you will call me Kate, and I will call you my darling.”
“What will you call me the rest of the time?” Celine said, her eyes shining, a teasing curve in the corner of her mouth.
“Isn’t that obvious?” She stroked Celine’s cheek. Most beloved of women. “I will call you my duchess.”