A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2) (5 page)

“I would hope not,” Clairemont said, and a great shudder worked through him at the thought of even a pretended engagement or marriage. That was not in his future. Better for everyone.

“But what harm could come in showing her a little extra attention?” Stalwood pressed. “In the interest of getting closer to Danford and in the interest of fitting into Society a bit more smoothly?”

Clairemont considered it. Talking to Celia had been very easy, comfortable even, unlike every other tedious conversation he’d been forced to have earlier in the evening.

“You
can
do this can’t you?” Stalwood asked. “You have no gentlemanly objections?”

Clairemont straightened and met the earl’s gaze evenly. “I am no gentleman,” he said, hardening himself to any objections he might, indeed, have on his own behalf or on Celia’s. This was for king and country. “I know my duty.”

“Good,” Stalwood said with a slight smile. “Then we should return to the ballroom.”

His mentor led the way from the parlor and Clairemont followed, trying to tamp down all his reasons not to do exactly as Stalwood said. Trying not to relive every moment on the terrace with Celia Fitzgilbert. She was a means to an end now. He could not make her any more than that.

“What is wrong?”

Celia flinched as she slid up next to her sister. Damn Rosalinde for knowing her so well. She forced a smile. “Wrong? Nothing at all. I just needed a bit of air,” she lied.

Rosalinde sent Gray a look and then examined Celia more closely. “You look upset, Celia. Are you certain nothing is wrong? We saw the Duke of Clairemont go out onto the terrace after you did.”

Celia felt the blood drain from her face. “You did?”

Rosalinde nodded. “Perhaps I should have followed. He wasn’t untoward with you, was he?”

Celia’s lips pinched as she recalled her few moments with the duke on the terrace. Untoward? Not exactly. Perhaps a bit flirtatious, at least until he realized who she was.

“No, he was…
fine
. We—we talked, actually,” she said, again casting a glance at Gray. Although they were finding a better relationship now, it still felt odd to talk about something so personal in front of him.

As if he sensed her discomfort, he turned away slightly, to give Rosalinde and her at least the illusion of a moment of privacy.

“You talked,” Rosalinde repeated softly. “And it didn’t go well?”

Celia shrugged. “At first it was fine. He was charming and I was…I suppose I tried to be charming—”

“You are always charming, go on,” Rosalinde encouraged.

“And then I mentioned you and Gray, and he realized who I was. His demeanor changed and he gave me what amounted to a very gentle set down and walked away.” Celia cleared her throat so her sister wouldn’t hear the lingering emotion that accompanied those words. “It makes me wonder if the broken engagement with Stenfax has hurt me more than we realized.”

Rosalinde folded her arms. “I can’t imagine that is true,” she said. “There are only a handful of people who seem troubled. Stenfax has said as much, himself. If Clairemont would judge you for that, it seems he isn’t much of a man, himself.”

Celia let out a breath on a laugh. Leave it to Rosalinde to dismiss anyone out of hand who didn’t like Celia. It was harder for Celia to do the same. Especially when the duke had inspired such…
interesting
reactions in her body and mind.

“You liked him,” Rosalinde whispered.

Celia met her gaze carefully. “I did, actually. He really is very handsome and there was something about him…I can’t explain it.” She sighed and shook her head slowly. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? His Grace has made it clear that he is not interested and that is the end of the conversation, I would assume.”

“Perhaps not.” Celia turned and found Gray inching back toward them. “I’m sorry, Celia, I realize I was not invited to this particular conversation, but I overheard it regardless. You assume the duke walked away because of your past, but that might not be true.”

Celia pushed aside her embarrassment at Gray being so aware of her awkward conversation with the duke and clung to the possibility he now presented. “Why do you say that?”

“The Duke of Clairemont and I are of an age. Stenfax and I were in school with him a very,
very
long time ago. We lost touch for years, but after I inherited and began to invest, Clairemont wrote to me. He was interested in my dealings and connections. He has long been invested in my businesses. You said he turned away when you mentioned my name, didn’t you?”

Celia nodded. “Yes.”

Gray smiled as if he were more certain of what he was saying than before. “It may be that Clairemont was more concerned with the potential complications to our business relationship by talking to you without a chaperone or a proper introduction than he was worried about your broken engagement.”

Celia moved closer, hope flaring dangerously in her chest. “Do you think so?”

“His correspondence is…” Gray pursed his lips. “Well, he is a meticulous man, we’ll say. And quite concerned with managing his business relationships closely. I would say it is a good possibility.”

Rosalinde slipped an arm around her. “You see? You jumped to a conclusion that may not be truth after all.”

Celia let out a sigh of relief. “I hope what you say is true, Gray.”

He cast a quick glance at Rosalinde before he said, “Well, there is one way to find out, I suppose. What if we invited him for supper?”

Celia’s eyes went wide. “Do you think he would come?”

“Why not? A party like this is too difficult to truly talk to anyone. And I get the feeling the man is slightly overwhelmed by his return to Society after so long away.”

“Yes,” Celia agreed. “On the terrace, he seemed out of sorts.”

“I’m certain he would jump at the offer of a quieter gathering,” Rosalinde said with a wide smile for Gray. “And then we could ascertain with certainty why the man walked away tonight
and
if he’s worth all this anxiety on your part.”

Celia couldn’t help her broad smile. Rosalinde was right that a more intimate setting would give her a chance to read Clairemont better. But then again, if he didn’t want to know her better, if her past did cut off a chance of a future, it would be a rather embarrassing night.

But if that happened, then she’d feign a headache and simply vow to avoid him for the rest of her life.

There, it was decided.

“If you have other business with the duke, I think inviting him to supper is a fine idea,” Celia said, trying to sound like she wasn’t fully invested in whatever Gray did. “As I said, I got along with the man insofar as we talked. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”

Gray nodded, though the look he and Rosalinde exchanged wasn’t subtle to say the least. “Excellent. Then I will send an invitation tomorrow morning for supper the night after. Now, Celia, would you like the dance?”

Celia smiled at her brother-in-law and took his hand to go to the dance floor. But as they moved into the allemande together, her mind spun on thoughts of the Duke of Clairemont. A night together in the company of her sister and brother-in-law would allow her to see him again, and perhaps even test a little more of the connection she had felt with him outside.

After all, what harm could it do?

Clairemont had always prided himself in his ability to plan. No one in the War Department was better than him at orchestrating the accidental meeting or the carefully handled conversation that would casually lead to real information.

But after the Marquess Harrington’s ball, he hadn’t been forced to arrange such a casual way to come face to face with Miss Celia Fitzgilbert and her family. An invitation had arrived the next morning in Grayson Danford’s neat, even handwriting that Clairemont had come to know so well during the course of his investigation.

I’m sorry the crush of the ball prevented us from speaking. Won’t you join my family for supper tomorrow night?

Clairemont had read that note over and over, trying to find every nuance, trying to ascertain guilt or innocence in the turn of the phrases, the hand. But he had discovered nothing. Still, it was a good opportunity to meet privately with the man.

And a better opportunity to see Celia. He hated to admit it, but although he should have put more focus on Mr. Danford,
she
was more on his mind.

Now he stood in the parlor of Danford’s London home, waiting for the arrival of his hosts. He took the opportunity to make some observations. The chamber was small, but beautifully appointed. As Clairemont paced the perimeter of the room, he took note of expensive furnishings and decoration. The man was making money, everyone knew that.

But how much of it was legitimate, and how much was taken from the broken backs of spies and soldiers?

His spine stiffened at that thought, and he refocused away from Celia’s charms and back to the matter at hand. He was here with a purpose, and it wasn’t the lovely Miss Fitzgilbert. If he pursued Stalwood’s suggestion, she would only be a tool for him, a means to the end of discovering if Grayson Danford was involved in either the real Clairemont’s traitorous dealings or his death.

Clairemont had firmed his resolve to the best of his ability when the parlor door behind him opened. He turned to face the door and caught his breath. It was not Danford or his wife who entered, but Celia, herself.

Tonight she wore a pale blue gown which matched the color of her eyes to perfection. Her hair was done simply, but little tendrils framed her face, drawing his attention to her smile. Well, her lips. Kissable lips.

He blinked. “Miss Fitzgilbert,” he managed to say, perhaps too loudly for the small room. “Good evening.”

He thought she frowned just slightly when he said her name, but she entered the chamber nonetheless.

“Hello, Your Grace,” she said, motioning him toward the chairs before the fire. “I’ve been sent to greet you in my brother-in-law’s stead. He and my sister are running slightly behind, but they will join us shortly. I hope you aren’t too disappointed.”

“With you as company?” he drawled, allowing her to take a place in front of the fire before he joined her. “How could I be?”

Her cheeks brightened with the slightest color and she smiled. “You and Gray know each other through…business, isn’t it?” she asked.

Clairemont stiffened ever so slightly, watching her carefully. He hadn’t before thought that perhaps Celia and her sister might also be involved, or at least aware, of anything untoward that Danford was involved in. Now that she had broached the subject of his involvement with her brother-in-law, Clairemont had to at least consider the possibility that she had been sent to the room in first as a spy of sorts. Or at least a distraction.

“We met in school a very long time ago,” he responded, easily finding the information that he had been memorizing and internalizing for months. It was remarkably easy to make another man’s story his own. Especially when his own past was something he liked to forget. “But our current relationship was developed around Mr. Danford’s success, yes.”

Celia nodded, but there was no real interest regarding the subject in her eyes. She seemed to be making simple small talk rather than digging for information, for which he found himself happy.

“He married your sister about six months ago, did he not? And you have lived with them in the North Country ever since?”

Once again, her face pinched ever so slightly. He could tell this was not a topic she enjoyed discussing. He found himself leaning forward to read her better.

“I think everyone knows that story,” she said with another fetching blush. “At first I was meant to marry Gray’s brother, the earl. It was an arranged union. But when Gray and Rosalinde fell in love, Stenfax and I set our engagement aside so that they could wed instead.”

Clairemont had known the particulars of that story, thanks to Stalwood. But now he frowned. Celia didn’t seem very happy about the broken engagement. Had she cared for her fiancé? He didn’t like that idea.

“You gave up being a countess? Why would you not marry Stenfax regardless and have two sisters in the same family?”