“Yes, do,” her mother told him. “Tell us about your doings for the prince regent.”
Elias shook a finger at the duchess as he took a seat. “Now, now, Your Grace. Not everything can be shared—as much as I would like to. But I will say it does my heart good to find you enjoying an afternoon here in the parlor.”
“Dr. MacMaddenly is a truly gifted physician.” The duchess placed her needlework on the side table, rose from her chair, and, with arms aloft, slowly turned in a graceful circle. “I am well enough to dance at the next ball we attend.”
Rising, Elias took her hand and bowed over it. “Wonderful news! You will save me a spot on your dance card?”
Celia watched their byplay, her cheeks aching with her forced smile. When Elias held out his hand for her to join them, she bit the inside of her lip before standing and sliding her hand into his. “With Mama so recovered, I am sure her dance card will fill quite quickly.”
He tugged Celia closer and made her knees weak with a smoldering gaze. “Ah yes, but surely she will save a dance for her daughter’s future husband?” He turned and aimed the deadliness of his charm at the duchess. “Will you not, Your Grace?”
“But of course, my lord.” The duchess patted his hand, then released it. “Do forgive me, but I just remembered some correspondence that I absolutely cannot allow to wait a moment longer.”
“But your tea,” Celia said, panicking at being left alone with Elias.
“I shall have Gransdon bring mine to my private sitting room.” The duchess gave them a saucy wink. “And since the two of you are soon to be married, I will indulge you with an afternoon without a chaperone.” She pointed at them both. “But I shall leave word with Gransdon that if anyone calls, I am to be fetched immediately to return before any visitors are let in—for appearance’s sake.”
“Before you go, Your Grace,” Elias said. “I have the special license.” He beamed an excited smile first at the duchess and then at Celia. “All we must do is name the day I can bring the clergyman to perform the ceremony.”
Celia braced herself, determined not to sag to the floor and sob. Elias was quite a convincing actor. If only all this was real.
She almost snorted. The marriage would be real, or at least legal. But the love she had hoped to nurture and grow was gone.
Celia weakly fluttered a hand. “The modiste is finishing my gown. As soon as she is done, we can marry.”
The duchess patted his arm. “Two days, dear boy. I shall tell the modiste we must have the gown in two days’ time. Will that do?”
He turned to Celia. “What say you, my precious lioness? In two days’ time, will you become my wife and make me the happiest man alive?”
“Yes,” she said, frustrated that her voice was determined to quiver. When she made this damnable bargain, she’d had no idea how difficult it would be to carry it out. “Two days will be perfect.”
“Celia?” Her mother reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I have never seen you so pale. Should you go up and rest?”
If she took the opportunity to escape, Mama would suspect something for certain. Celia shook her head. She had no choice but to stay. “I simply need a biscuit. All I took the time for at breakfast was a cup of chocolate.”
The duchess appeared unconvinced but released her hand and turned back to Elias. She gave him a stern look. “Remember your oath, Lord Raines. See that she eats.”
He bowed to the dowager. “I shall, Your Grace.”
The duchess kissed Celia’s cheek, then cast a knowing smile back at them as she left the parlor doors wide open.
Elias took Celia’s hand before she realized what he intended. He gently tugged her over to the sofa. “Sit, Celia. Your mother is right. You are as pale as milk. Are you certain you are well?”
As she lowered herself to the seat, she snatched her hands out of his grasp. “Of course I am not well,” she hissed after a glance at the doors. “I am finding our agreed-upon act quite difficult. But worry not, I shall conquer my weakness and play the part accordingly.” She looked away, determined not to meet his gaze. She could not bear the revulsion she knew she would see there.
Gransdon entered with the tea and served them. “Will that be all, my lady?” he asked.
“Her Grace wishes to take her tea in her private sitting room, please.” Celia sampled hers, wishing it was brandy.
“Yes, my lady. I shall see to it.” The butler strode out and closed the doors that the duchess had previously left open.
“Shall I open them?” Elias asked quietly.
Celia lowered her cup to its saucer, clenching her teeth, as her trembling made the porcelain rattle. She set it on the table beside her, clutched her hands in her lap, and kept her gaze lowered. “Whatever you wish.”
“I wish for you to be happy,” he said softly. “But I fear that with me, you will never be.”
She found both his tone and his words not only confusing but horrendously cruel. Was that his intent? To toy with her emotions the entire time they were together? To torment her all the way to the gallows? She pulled in a deep breath and released it, bracing herself for whatever he might say next. She focused on her hands in her lap.
