A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2) (3 page)

“So you don’t regret breaking your engagement to Stenfax at all?” Tabitha asked, curling a loose blonde lock around her finger.

Celia pursed her lips. Her friends had kindly danced around that subject since her return to London a week before, but here it was. She found herself searching through the ballroom and found the tall, stern figure of the Earl of Stenfax. He was standing in the corner, talking to his sister, Felicity. When they saw her looking their way, both raised their hands in a friendly hello, which she returned before she sighed. Stenfax was very handsome, of course, but he had never moved her, nor had she moved him.

“I do
not
regret it,” she said, and meant it. “Things have worked out exactly right.” She cleared her throat and looked around. The women who were not dancing were all gathered in clumps, it seemed, and there was a crackling electricity in the air that made no sense to Celia. “Why is everyone so odd tonight?” she asked, hoping for a change in subject since the topic of her former fiancé was uncomfortable to say the least.

Honora grasped her arm in both hands, her face lighting up in excited pleasure. “You mean you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Celia asked, shaking her head. “What is there to hear that would inspire
that
expression?”

Both women leaned in and Honora whispered, “The Duke of Clairemont is making a return to Society tonight.”

Celia wrinkled her brow. “The Duke of Clairemont. I vaguely recognize the title, but why does
that
matter? We’ve a room full of stuffy old men as it is. One more boring duke is hardly any matter.”

“Oh my Lord, she doesn’t know!” Tabitha squealed, and now Celia was being held by both her arms, one for each friend. She rather hoped they didn’t try for a tug of war.

Honora all but bounced. “His Grace is
not
an old man,” she said, trying for a whisper but not really accomplishing it in her excitement. “He is
barely
above thirty and rich as Midas, himself!”

Tabitha tugged on Celia’s arm none too gently. “His father died a decade ago and he took the title, but since then he has been a recluse, hiding away in his country estate, Kinghill Castle. No one has seen him in years and years.”

“There are so many rumors about why he hid so long, Celia,” Honora continued, pulling Celia back to her side. “Some say he was scarred in an accident—”

“A fire!” Tabitha said. “I heard it was a fire.”

“Whatever it was.” Honora shrugged. “Or that he was driven mad over his father’s death.”

“Oh there are a dozen stories or more,” Tabitha said. “Whatever the truth is,
everyone
is agog over his return. He is quite the catch.”

“Despite being horribly disfigured or mad? Or both?” Celia asked mildly.

Honora let out a huff of breath. “He’s
titled
and
rich
—did you not hear that part?”

Celia held back a sigh. She hated to be mercenary, especially after all she’d gone through breaking her engagement to Stenfax, but the idea of this duke’s title
did
appeal to her. Since Gray had had little luck in finding out her father’s identity, she couldn’t help but wonder if her grandfather might consider honoring his original bargain with her.

Marry a title to satisfy him and receive the information that was so well-hidden. Rosalinde would hate that. She wouldn’t want Celia anywhere near the old man.

But Rosalinde didn’t need the truth as much as Celia felt she did. It didn’t eat at her at night, it didn’t haunt her every time she looked in the mirror and wondered if she had her father’s nose or chin.

“Are you well, my dear?” Tabitha asked, tilting her face to get a closer look at Celia. “You have gotten very pale.”

Celia shook her head. These were not thoughts she should entertain. Likely when this mysterious duke arrived he would not be interested in her at all. He would probably be a boring, fat aristocrat who already knew exactly what family he would merge his own with. There was no use getting one’s hopes up over a mirage.

“I’m fine, I was woolgathering,” she said with a smile to reassure her friends.

Tabitha didn’t look certain, but before she could follow up with more questions or concerns, the crowd in the room began to titter and shift. It seemed everyone in the room turned toward the door at once as the servant there made some muffled announcement.

Celia turned with them, lifting on her tiptoes to see who had caused the commotion.

“It must be him,” Honora breathed, her hand coming up to fluff her hair. “It
must
be!”

Celia supposed her friend must be correct, for this mysterious duke was the only addition to Society that would cause such a stir. The crowd began to part, splitting apart like a torn seam, and then the few people before her stepped aside and she caught her breath.

An impeccably dressed man now stood not three feet from her. And he was utterly beautiful,
with dark blond hair and steely gray eyes that swept over the room. He had an angled face with a strong jaw and a slightly imperfect nose, like he had broken it at some point during his life. But the imperfection only made the rest of his face that much more striking.

He shifted slightly, revealing some discomfort on his handsome face. And something else, too. Sadness. There was a sadness in his eyes that spoke to Celia in a visceral and immediate way.

“
That’s
him?” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off of him. Tabitha and Honora nodded mutely. “He certainly isn’t scarred.”

“Or fat,” Honora added. “Or hideous.”

“No,” Celia whispered as he turned away and smiled as their host and hostess, the Marquess and Marchioness Harrington, rushed to greet their coup of a guest. He was led off into the crowd and it felt like the air had been let back into the room. Celia sucked in a gulp of it with a shiver.

She had never had such a strong reaction to a stranger before. A man. It was like her whole body was tingling and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that the rest of the sounds in the room were muffled by the rush of blood.

“I think he’ll be even more of a catch now that we’ve all seen him,” Tabitha said with a sigh. “The Diamonds of the First Water will wrestle for him and some lucky girl will land him before the summer, I can almost guarantee it!”

Celia blinked as those words sank in. Of course that was true. The mamas would swarm on their newcomer before he could settle in for five minutes, and he would be the focus of their manipulations until someone had landed him.

Someone who would almost certainly
not
be Celia Fitzgilbert. She turned away from where the duke had stood and took a few more deep breaths. It was foolish to be swept away by the appearance of a handsome face. And if she were smart, she’d just forget about the man.

Only she didn’t think that would be so easy to do.

Dane stood with the Earl of Stalwood, staring out at the swirling crowd of dancers. It seemed every time a pair passed him, they whispered to each other and stared pointedly in his direction. He shifted with discomfort at the unexpected and utterly unwelcome attention.

“So Clairemont, what do you think?” Stalwood asked, breaking through the cloud of his thoughts.

Dane blinked a few times.
Clairemont
. He was Clairemont now, and he had to
think
of himself that way so he didn’t slip up in his duty.

“It seems a perfect place to find our marks,” he said slowly, speaking with the more formal accent he had been perfecting for two long months. It came naturally now, even if it still sounded foreign to his ears.

Stalwood nodded as he surveyed the crowd around them. Unlike Dane, there was no discomfort or feeling out of place for the earl. “Indeed. The duke might not have met with people in person during the past decade, but his correspondence included a great many of those in this room.” Stalwood’s tone grew hard. “Likely one or more of them were involved in his schemes. One may have even killed him.”

Dane…no,
Clairemont
—now more than ever he had to immerse himself in his role so that he never slipped—shifted with discomfort.

“My appearance here has created a great deal of attention,” he mused, trying not to chafe at the continued stares and whispers.

“More than we anticipated,” Stalwood agreed. “Though I suppose it shouldn’t be so surprising. There are only so many titles in our world. When one comes out of hiding, it is bound to cause a splash.”

“I’ve been accustomed to simply fitting in,” Clairemont explained. “To becoming invisible in whatever role I take in the organization. Blending in makes investigation smooth. But this focus will make my job all the harder.”

Stalwood nodded, his face suddenly grim. “That is likely true. Unfortunately, you’ll have to work around it, at least until the interest fades in a few weeks.”

“A few
weeks
?” he repeated, and his stomach roiled as he let his gaze slide around the room once more. The crowd with their finery and their foolishness did nothing for him. “These people,” he murmured. “How in the world shall I ever keep track of them?”

Stalwood arched a brow. “If you let you prejudice guide you, you won’t. So figure it out, Clairemont.” He stopped for a moment, his gaze shifting over Clairemont’s shoulder. “And do it quickly. Here come the mamas.”

Clairemont stiffened and slowly turned. Sure enough, there was what felt like a gaggle of middle-aged women moving across the floor to him. Some had young ladies in tow, others came alone. But all had the same predatory look in their eyes.

His mouth went dry. He’d spent decades being the hunter. Now he was the prey.

And for the first time since he was a pup in training, he had no defense against the attacks about to come. So he clenched his fists behind his back and muttered, “Shit.”

Celia stood on the terrace in the shadow of the great house and stared up at the waning moon above. Even though it wasn’t quite full anymore, it had a beautiful glow about it that filled her with happiness. She’d always enjoyed the many faces of the night sky.

And tonight she needed them. The ball was stuffy and crowded and she was out of sorts.

She had tried to explain away the discomfort in her chest with thoughts on the scandal she and Stenfax had caused with their broken engagement, but that wasn’t it. Very few had rejected her due to that decision. Those who had were inconsequential.

No, she felt odd for another reason. And when she was honest with herself, the reason was the entry of the Duke of Clairemont. It had been such a strange thing to look at that man, that stranger, and feel such a strong and instant connection to him.

“What a handsome face will do,” she muttered to herself, ignoring the fact that she’d known many a handsome face, including that of her former fiancé, and she had never been so moved by one before.

Clairemont was a confusing one, that was true enough. Perhaps it was the mystery of his being hidden away for so long. Perhaps it was the air of sadness she had noticed in his gray eyes. Perhaps it was the piercing glow of those same eyes. Whatever it was, it was entirely distracting.

She sucked in another cool breath of air and sighed. She should go back inside before Rosalinde and Gray noticed her absence and became worried. Worse, before they both began to question her and coo over her like she was a broken thing that needed fixing.

She was about to do so when the terrace door flew open and a figure strode out, slamming it behind him. He rushed toward the wall, gripping it with both hands and sucking in a few long breaths of air as he lifted his face toward the moonlight, just as she had done a moment before.

Her breath hitched. The man who had invaded her sanctuary was none other than the one she had been musing upon. The Duke of Clairemont. And he looked mightily upset.

She hesitated. In the shadow of the house, he didn’t appear to have noticed her yet. She supposed she could slide along the wall and simply go inside as to not interrupt him.

But she didn’t. Instead she took a long step toward him and exposed herself to the light.