An aching heat flooded through her at the prospect. She allowed him to wrap his arm around her waist but attempted to appear sternly displeased with him. “We will continue this conversation later.”
“I look forward to it, my love. Shall I carry you?”
“No. I wish to try it on my own, thank you.”
He walked slowly beside her, holding her steady and letting her draw from his quiet strength. As they neared the parlor, he brought them to a stop and whispered, “Remember—we need Lady Bournebridge’s connections. Her support. If she is not pleased—neither her husband nor her brother-in-law will aid us in our cause.”
She blew out a pained sigh. “I will try not to pull the old cat’s tail.”
He eyed her as though doubting her sincerity. “Swear it.”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and blow out another disgruntled huff. “I swear.”
Elias slowly shook his head and continued on into the parlor. “Here on the sofa, I think. With a footstool to rest your feet on, and I shall sit beside you.”
“To keep me properly behaved, I suppose?”
He laughed. “I would never attempt such a thing, my love.” With a smoldering look, he added, “I rather enjoyed it the last time you misbehaved.”
Another surge of heat rushed through her. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and prayed for them to cool as she settled into her seat. The ladies would surely wonder at the redness of her face.
With some dismay, she realized she was relieved to be sitting. To be so weary after such a short walk simply would not do. She needed to be a wife in every sense of the word—both for herself and Elias. She made a silent vow to build her strength with a great deal more walking. Dr. MacMaddenly and Elias both could either accept it or not. She would do what she would do.
As if reading her mind, Elias caught hold of her hands and kissed them. “Patience, Celia. We have the rest of our lives. Give yourself time to heal. I am here at your side and not going anywhere.”
“Swear it,” she whispered, allowing herself to sink into his gaze.
“With my life,” he answered without hesitation. “And now I shall ring for Gransdon to bring in our guests.”
“If you must.” She dutifully folded her hands in her lap and waited, wiggling her feet to make sure her somber black dress fell into graceful folds all around her legs.I must be nice,she chanted to herself.
The unwanted women fluttered into the room, reminding Celia of a pair of startled geese running along with their wings flapping. Both wore gowns of the palest yellow with white flowers embroidered on the skirts and puffed sleeves. Their white gloves and white bonnets were in stark contrast to the red mottling of their faces. They must have worked themselves into quite a state before being told someone would finally see them.
“Lady Cecelia—you poor, poor dear,” Lady Bournebridge said in a long, drawn-out whine that nearly made Celia gag. “Temperance and I could not bring ourselves to believe the horrid reports from Lord Bournebridge and my sister’s husband, Lord Liverpool. We thought them surely mistaken. But when we read the grim details in print, we could no longer turn our beliefs aside. Please, please accept our condolences.”
“Yes, please do,” Temperance added in her nasal whine. “Are you quite certain you are recovered enough for callers? We thought to see no one other than Lord Raines.” Her pinch-faced gaze flitted to Elias then returned to Celia.
“I am still quite weak,” Celia said, which wasn’t a lie, but she loathed admitting it. She drew a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed it to her eyes, drying imaginary tears. “And my poor brother Charles is gone.”
“Terrible loss,” Lady Bournebridge said with a sad shake of her head. She squirmed in her chair like an overly excited child. “With no known heirs, whatever shall become of you and your mother?”
Biting the inside of her cheek to halt a sharp retort, Celia reached for Elias’s hand. “Only time will tell, I fear. The future is almost too awful to bear. Thankfully, I have my husband to give me strength.”
Both ladies perked like a pair of cats spotting a mouse. “Yourhusband?” Lady Bournebridge repeated. “We knew you to be betrothed but were not aware you had already married.”
“By special license, I suppose?” Lady Temperance asked, sounding prickly with envy.
“Yes,” Elias said. “We exchanged vows while she lay there bleeding. They fetched me as soon as they brought her home. I feared she would leave me before we finished our vows.”
Celia squeezed his hand, willing him to proceed with caution. The ladies were lapping up his every word. They would surely need to be burped when he finished.
“You thought her dying and wished to marry her before she left you.” Lady Bournebridge clutched both hands to her ample bosom. She and Lady Temperance exhaled wistful sighs.
“So romantic,” Lady Temperance added, her thin lips quivering and her eyes gleaming with tears.
“Please do spread the word about my awful attack,” Celia said, trying to sound weak and fragile. “I would so hate for anyone else to suffer such a thing. It was so terrible, I cannot bear to even think about it, much less speak of it.” She didn’t need them to ask questions about the attack, since she did not know what wild embellishments Monty had claimed.
“Indeed, we will,” Lady Bournebridge promised. She leaned forward, her hands still clasped to her chest. “Your mother—how is she faring?”
