Sinful in Satin (36 page)

They passed under a streetlamp then, and Edward’s face was visible. Slack from relief, ashen from fear, his expression spoke of his torture the last five minutes. Once they left the pool of light and were back in the dark, Jonathan stopped walking. Edward kept on, his stick dragging the ground like a lame third leg.

“Was she spared, Uncle? The woman for whom you did this?”

Edward turned and looked at him. “She survived. She is living near Nice with an artist now.” He turned and walked on, until the night absorbed him.

Jonathan walked the other way. Whoever thought Edward would betray his country because of his love for a woman? As reasons for being a traitor went, however, it was at least one that Jonathan understood.

“I
t is odd, that is all,”Celia said. “I havefoundtwo other houses that will do, but my inheritance of this one remains in limbo.”

“Perhaps it is Mr. Dargent’s plan to leave you unsettled and worried. It gives him an eternal claim on your attention,” Daphne said.

They stood in the middle of the garden, after a long stroll along its beds with Verity and Audrianna. Now Audrianna was at a table on the terrace, writing down all the improvements they had decided would be made, and Verity was writing down lists of plants. No one would recognize those two now as the ladies they were. Spring’s mud decorated their hems and boots, and the simplest bonnets shielded their complexions from the sun.

“Anthony knows it cannot remain unresolved forever, Daphne. He needs to make his claim on it or lose that claim. I want to believe he had a change of heart, but I fear I am wasting all of your time with today’s planning.”

“It is never a waste to spend time with friends. This is mostly an excuse for that.”

They strolled to the terrace. Audrianna set down her pen as they arrived. “It is all here, but you must do your drawings, Celia. And I fear it is more work than women can manage.”

“I could send over some of our gardeners,” Verity said while she focused on penning her lists. “But perhaps Mr. Albrighton will insist on helping. He is most eager to be of service to you, Celia.” She glanced up. “Carpentry and such.”

A little stillness fell among them. Not a long one. A five-count at most, but it was there, unmistakably.

Verity’s bonnet could not hide her insinuating smile as she bent over her lists. Daphne suddenly appeared almost too composed.

Celia glared at Audrianna, who turned bright red.

“It slipped out,” she confessed. “I all but forgot you had told me privately. We were talking about how he stayed in Daphne’s house, while you did too, and Daphne made one of her bad jokes about trifles, and I—well, I—” She appeared miserable and contrite, but also ready to laugh.

Daphne’s arm came around her shoulders. “We do not judge, Celia. If you are content, we are as well.”

Content.
An odd word. She supposed she was content. Certainly things with Jonathan had been very good this last week. Not only the sensuality, which now seemed imbued with new emotions. Also the little things, such as how he looked at her in the morning, and the kisses he gave her in passing.

So why did nostalgia sometimes color her contentment, as if she lived a memory? It was much like she felt as she moved through this house that she soon might lose.

“Since we all know, and now you know that we all know, I have an invitation,” Audrianna said. “We are going to the theater tonight, Celia. Verity and Hawkeswell are joining us in our box. And, I believe, so is Mr. Albrighton. I want you to come as well.”

“I do not think that Jonathan will welcome my attendance, Audrianna. He expects to settle things with Thornridge soon. This is not a good moment for his name to be linked to mine, if he hopes to realize those expectations.”

Her friends exchanged glances. They understood, of course. These dear women accepted her, but they also did not pretend that her birth and history did not matter.

“You will only be sitting in a box with him, Celia,” Verity said. “Why don’t you allow Mr. Albrighton to decide if he thinks that will interfere with his expectations?”

Verity asked Daphne for help with one of the lists then. Audrianna tilted her head back, so the sun could find her face. “The scents out here are so rich. Don’t you agree, Celia? One can smell nature coming alive again.”

“Your condition probably makes you more sensitive to it all than most others, Audrianna, but I agree that spring stirs all the senses toward hope, with its promise of new beginnings.”

 

 

H
e found Celia on the terrace, sitting on the bench near the garden door. The sun had begun its descent and the breeze had cooled. She had removed her bonnet. A sketchbook rested on her lap but she did not draw.

He angled his head to see the page she had been working on. “The ladies and you have planned changes out here, I see.”

“It was an excuse to see each other.” She gestured to the sketch. “This will never see fruition. Eventually Mr. Watson will send someone to do that inventory.”

He sat beside her. “I do not think so, Celia. I am almost sure he will never come.”

She looked at him, puzzled. Then her expression cleared. “Jonathan, did you give Anthony that money?”

“I did not. I was obedient to your wishes.”

“Thank you. I could not bear the thought of your doing that.”

He took the sketchbook, and paged backward to see what else she had drawn. “I did speak to Anthony, however. Several days ago.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her curious skepticism.

“Did you, now?”

“Mmm.”

“What did you say?”

“Let me see if I remember. The usual greeting. A request for a private word. A reminder that I was an old friend of your family, that sort of thing. It was very cordial. I may have suggested that no gentleman would try to coerce a woman into his bed by the means he was using. Yes, I do believe that came up too. I think that I may have indicated that I would not take it well if he made any further moves against the property.”

“Since no move has been made, you appear to have been persuasive.”

“I have been told that the ability to persuade is one of my talents.”

Her fingertips cupped his chin and she turned his head so he faced her. “Jonathan, did you hurt him?”

“Of course not. His arm may have been a bit stiff for a few days, due to my enthusiasm for the conversation, which somewhat exceeded his. However, I did not hurt him, in the way a man would use that word.”

“Did you threaten him?”

“Only a man with a guilty conscience would take what I said as a threat. I did suggest he might want to ask some mutual acquaintances about me. If he did, and they led him to think better of his plan, it had nothing to do with me.” He imagined Dargent seeking out the men with whom his father had consulted during the war. Anthony probably had not slept well since.

Celia looked in his eyes. “I should scold you. My mother essentially took offers for me, and he made the best one. As much as I dislike him now,
he
was not the one to break the rules of that game.”

“He has done well enough without the money this long, and will continue that way. Nor did he make the best offer. He just had the right family, and your innocent love. But it is done now. If Mr. Watson has not written to arrange that inventory by now, he never will.”

She frowned halfway through his response. Frowned so deeply that he doubted she heard the rest of it. He realized why. It was not like him to err like that. How like Celia to not miss it.

“How do you know he did not make the best offer? Did my mother confide about that to you?”

“It is a small thing, Celia, and long in the past. What is important is that you can build your gardens and put down your own roots here if you choose.”

He tapped at her drawing. She looked at it and smiled. Then the frown formed again. She scrutinized him, suspiciously.

Such were the wages of being distracted by a lovely woman. Of being so comfortable that one did not parse every word three times over before speaking. “Celia, I know he did not offer the most because I offered more. It is not what you think. I was leaving town for God knew how long.”

Her expression fell in astonishment. “You? What on earth for, if you were leaving town?”

Why indeed? Looking back, it appeared a futile, noble gesture. At the time, it had seemed the right thing to do. “It was as good a use of the money as any, and I expected to have more eventually. You were still too innocent, Celia. Too much a child. I thought I would delay it a couple of years. That is all.” He shrugged. “Your mother thought differently, and explained that I would not be an appropriate protector for you at any time, and no matter what my intentions.”

“She was correct. You would not have been.”

She spoke only the belief she lived. The rules she knew. Yet he did not care for the knot of unsuitability that she assumed, even though his meeting with Thornridge had only proven she was right about that.

Her eyes watered and her smile trembled. “You cannot know how this touches me, Jonathan. You could have told me before. I would not have misunderstood, and thought it meant you had tried to buy me when I was a girl.” She half laughed and half cried, and her eyes glistened even while she smiled. “There I was, thinking Anthony was going to save me in the name of love, and the mysterious Mr. Albrighton tried to do so in the name of common decency. Is it any wonder that I love you, Jonathan?”

She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, perhaps unaware of what she had just said. He was not. He watched her joy in this small revelation of something long ago. Dusk was gathering, but not around this bench.

He still was not appropriate for her. If she ever wanted a protector, she could do far better than him.

Unless she loved him. She would set aside her own best interests then. He could probably have all that Thornridge offered, and Celia too, just as Castleford had predicted.

“It is good to hear you say that you love me, Celia. It is good that we talk of that, and how love has become a part of what is between us.”

Her breath caught in midsniff. She looked at him almost fearfully, with a question in her eyes.

He had to smile, but her expression touched him with its sadness. “I am speaking of my love too, darling. You are more worthy of being loved than you will ever know.”

She truly wept then, with tears that made her eyes luminous a thousand times over.

He took her in his arms. “It is past time, I think, to decide which story it will be, Celia.”

Her head rested against him. She breathed deeply for control. “The one we have started, I think. My friends accept it, the ones who matter, that is. Once you talk to Thornridge, once he accepts how it must be with you, it will also be the only story allowed. Only I don’t want any gifts, Jonathan. I don’t want it to be
that
sort of affair.”

“There is much wisdom in what you say. Only I am not accustomed to normal sorts of stories for myself. Nor are you, as you have proven.” He tilted her head back so he could kiss her lips. “I said I would not give you up easily. Not any part of what we share. I will never risk losing this love you now say you have for me. I think that we should marry, Celia, so I am sure you are mine forever.”

A lovely joy suffused her expression. Then the Celia who had been educated by Alessandra looked at him with love and kindness, but too much worldly realism. “Thank you for that, Jonathan. I am honored, and flattered, and I will never forget this moment. It cannot be, however. Once you convince your cousin to do the right thing, you will have to live a very normal sort of life. More normal than most, I should think.”

“I have already met with him. I have already weighed my choices. I do not propose on an impulse, Celia. I know what I gain, and what I may lose.”

She studied his eyes. “You mean it, don’t you? You are serious.”

“I am as serious as I have ever been.”

Another long gaze, full of cautious joy. Then the most beautiful expression softened her face, and the caution left her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

She angled back to look up at the house’s windows, and the last fiery rays of the setting sun limned her side and profile with an orange red glow. With naughty glee in her eyes, she stood and climbed onto his lap, facing him with her bent legs flanking her hips.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me, then fill me, so this wonder and sweet astonishment that I feel does not break my heart from sheer happiness.”

He kissed her. She snuggled closer, then raised her skirt and petticoat. Within moments he was in her, bound to her, rocking in a slow rhythm toward ecstasy while her soft cries chanted her love and pulled him into her brilliance.

T
hey went to the theater that night. Celia wore her mother’s ermine-trimmed mantlet over a restrained white dress decorated tastefully with lace. Jonathan hired a coach and called for her as if he did not live in the attic.