“What about other gentlemanly pursuits? Do you enjoy the gaming tables or the races?” Ah, so the interrogation had not ceased, merely shifted to a slightly more subtle line of attack.
“I do some work for Wayland’s, but I do not partake in the games myself.”
“That is good,” Madame Bosarge added. “I don’t believe in gambling. Do you know, a few years ago, Lilibet told me of a man who lost so much in a single race he had to give up every piece of property that was not entailed away.”
“That could be a great many men, Marie,” Celine said.
“Yes, but he was demonstrating interest in a lady and had to drop her in favor of a larger dowry. What was her name? She wasquite pretty, but her dowry was only modest and she had been passed over once before. The one that played that awful joke on Miss Summers before she was wed.”
“Charlotte James?” Celine supplied.
“That’s the one. Oh, what was his name?” Madame Bosarge asked.
“I do not know. It’s possible I was on my honeymoon at the time.”
“Is that Baron James’s widow?” Madame Cadieux asked.
Though I was entirely superfluous to the conversation, it was something of a relief from the pointed questioning. And it allowed me time to stuff myself with more of the decadent food.
“Yes, Mama.”
“Lilibet told me some weeks ago that there is a rumor that she is increasing. And, if I recall correctly, the baron passed nearly half a year ago.”
Celine sighed. “I should not be petty, but she is so wretched. I suspect it was one of those gentlemen who were always surrounding her like flies. I noticed at the masquerade they were avoiding her with some determination.”
“Surely whoever it was will take responsibility?” Madame Cadieux asked.
“Certainly not with a wedding. Not with the way they were speaking at the masque,” Celine added.
“I cannot help but feel badly for her.” Madame Cadieux said. “The baron had gambling vices of his own from what Lilibet told me.”
“Oh, she will find some relative or other in the country to visit and return as if nothing ever happened next season,” Madame Bosarge added. “Monsieur Hart, we must be boring you quite beyond belief.”
“Oh, not at all, madame.” It was the truth. Watching Celine interact with her family was fascinating. And truthfully, I quite preferred it to them questioning me.
This was nothing like the stilted dinner parties I had attended before where all one discussed was the recent weather. Weather that was alwaystoosomething. It was a recitation of some lady’s predictions for the future weather—always hopeful for improvement. A gentleman would opine on whether the weather was more or less pleasant than last season—always less. Someone would muse about the coming season’s weather—it would always be an improvement to the current. I was always certain that they would have had the exact same opinions last week, last month, last year. And they would have them next week, month, and year.
Permission granted, the ladies volleyed back and forth about some gossip or other. I half listened, frequently distracted by the bemused glances Celine shot my way. Rolled eyes, pursed lips, bitten back grins—they were all part of her repertoire, and each was more endearing than the last.
It was some time later, after the dishes were cleared away, a game of whist was played and won, with Celine curled against me in the carriage, that I realized my nerves had faded away. Once home, Celine and I parted ways briefly before a familiar knock sounded at my door.
Celine, just the slightest bit in her cups, tugged me to the bed, both of her hands wrapped around mine. I followed in after her. She curled against me before sitting up and adjusting my arm into a position that better suited her. Once she settled, she grabbed my other arm and pulled it to her hair, silently demanding that I run my fingers through the curls. It was nothing like a hardship to acquiesce.
As she slept against me, snoring daintily, I realized she was right. Even Madame Bosarge’s questioning had not been relatedto my situation but my character. And wasn’t that a revelation? This miraculous woman beside me might not be so far beyond my reach as I once thought.
* Historical version of Mac and Cheese
Twenty-Six
HART AND SUMMERS, SOLICITORS, LONDON - JUNE 16, 1816
WILLIAM
It was unbearablydifficult to leave Celine’s warm feminine curves the following morning.
Still, I could not abandon Kit for yet another day.
I arrived after a much longer journey than usual to an undisturbed office. That was more of a relief than I’d anticipated. I was deep into my search for answers to Xander’s questions from the week before when Kit arrived.
