“Frannie!” Sophie swatted the girl’s arm. “This is not some future investment we are discussing. Could you possibly show a modicum of empathy for our dear Celia?”
“Celia knows I love her and would do anything to help her avoid what we all know cannot be changed.” Frannie snorted like an irritated horse, then shifted her focus back to Celia. “Out with it. You cannot hide anything from us, and nor should you have to, or even try.”
“Frannie is right about that,” Sophie said with a curt nod that set her cascade of coppery ringlets aquiver.
“I fear we are soon to be discovered.” Celia pulled in a deep breath, preparing to explain, then jerked and pushed off the desk as Gransdon quietly knocked, then entered the library with their tea. The man set her on edge for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Or perhaps she was just on edge because they were in London, and she very much doubted Mama would ever be able to make the return trip to Germany.
What would she do then? How would she explain the absence of the Duke of Hasterton and his sister, Lady Cecilia, when they didn’t appear for the funeral? Or would she simply need to transport Mama back to Germany and lay her to rest there with little or no ceremony? She could always claim Mama wished to be buried beside Father, and for once, that would be the truth.
She massaged her throbbing temples. This was not as simple as faking a birth announcement or claiming one twin was ill while having the other christened, and then playing the ruse all over again a week later so everyone thought that both she and her brother had been duly baptized in the church. God bless Nanny Hildegarde for helping with the complicated charade throughout Celia’s childhood—or at least until the imaginary Charles reached the age of attending boarding schools and then expanded his schooling to a foreign university.
“Will there be anything else?” Gransdon asked, interrupting her turmoil. He hovered over the table of tea and cakes, looking at Celia with his bushy brows arched like a hound perking its ears.
“This is quite perfect, Gransdon. Thank you.” Celia forced a smile as the man bowed, then left the room. As soon as he closed the door behind him, she sagged back against the edge of the desk.
“Why do you fear you’re soon to be discovered?” Sophie rose and poured the tea, serving Celia first. “Is it a matter of security? I can help with guards.”
“And I can help with a few discreet inquiries,” Frannie volunteered as she accepted a cup from Sophie, then scooted back deeper into her chair. “We are not without resources.”
“What do you know about Lord Elias Raines of Parkerton, Hodgely, and Kane?” Celia sipped her tea, then recalled the liquor cabinet she had discovered built into the shelves behind the desk. As she went in search of spirits suitable for mixing with tea, she cast a glance back at her friends. “He ascended to the position of partner upon the death of our Master Hodgely, a solicitor we trusted for many years.” She pulled a decanter from the cabinet and sniffed the contents. Brandy. Not pear, but it would do. She offered it to Frannie and Sophie. They both held out their cups for a soothing dram. “In fact, I am positive that Master Hodgely held a great fondness for Mama, and she for him. Unfortunately, their union would not only have made them social outcasts but also cost Master Hodgely his London clientele. So, she married my father.” Celia sighed, regretting her mother’s many sacrifices over the years—all in the name of acceptability and keeping everyone happy but herself.
“Lord Elias Raines,” Sophie repeated, as though sorting through her thoughts. “Isn’t he the younger brother of the Duke of Almsbury?”
Frannie went still with her teacup partway to her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “I remember him. We sometimes use Parkerton at that same office. Lord Raines came with Parkerton to assist him when we required different wording in a contract, and they refused to make the change until we met with them.” She beamed with a proud smile. “They think I am the Marchioness of Ardsmere, and that my husband trusts me implicitly to operate in his stead, since his mother, the dowager marchioness, so often lauds my astuteness.”
“And Lord Raines?” Celia prompted, hoping for helpful information.
Frannie gave her a tight-lipped look. “Deucedly clever and stubborn to the point of being dangerous as an adder. Once he gets the scent, Parkerton said nothing will veer him from the hunt.”
“Is he the one with whom Lady Castledown had that rather indiscreet affair?” Sophie asked.
“No.” Frannie made a face. “That was his brother. Are you having an off day, Sophie? Even from your villa in France, you normally have your fingertip on the pulse of theton’s gossip.”
With an irritated huff, Sophie rolled her eyes and took another sip of her tea.
“What else do you know about Lord Raines other than his clever stubbornness?” Celia added more brandy to all their cups, then wondered if she should have stayed her hand. Keeping Sophie and Frannie on topic could sometimes be as difficult as herding wild rabbits.
“Quite handsome, as I remember. Dark, curly hair cut in the latest fashion. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Impressively muscular and quite stunning in buff-colored pantaloons that show off his powerful legs.” Frannie frowned as she took a heartier sip of her brandy-laced tea while gazing off into the distance. “And the most unusual eyes. Like rare tiger eye gemstones from South Africa. A golden, honeyed richness.”
“I believe you have had enough brandy,” Celia said while offering a plate of cakes to Frannie. “Best offset it by eating.”
“It sounds to me as if she has had enough of virginity,” Sophie said with a very unladylike snort. “Isn’t it so lovely to be able to say whatever we wish with each other without fear of retribution?” She offered Celia a teasing smile. “What areyourthoughts on the beguiling Lord Raines?”
“He is not beguiling. He is infuriating, impertinent, and the most worrisome risk Mama and I have ever taken.”
Sophie straightened and immediately became serious. “What risk?”
Celia braced herself, knowing that Sophie and Frannie would both fuss about not being consulted regarding her mother’s will. And she completely agreed, but Mama had adamantly refused, stating they would do it as she wished and would brook no argument. “Mama requested Lord Raines draw up a will that places all of her personal assets and unentailed properties into a trust for me, her companion, Miss Bening—leaving nothing to her son or her daughter. Not even her jewelry.”
“Oh, Celia,” Frannie and Sophie groaned in unison.
“You are now the fox and Lord Raines is the relentless hound,” Frannie said.
“I fear you are correct.” Celia set her tea on the desk beside her, closed her eyes, and massaged her temples that no longer throbbed but pounded. “And I have no idea what to do about it. If he finds out that Charles is nothing more than an imaginary means to an end…”
“He could have you both charged with fraud.” Sophie’s ominous tone made Celia’s head hurt even more. “They do not look kindly on pretending to be a peer.”
“We are not pretending to be one,” Celia said, knowing the argument was ridiculous. “We created one.”
