Celia met her gaze carefully. “I did, actually. He really is very handsome and there was something about him…I can’t explain it.” She sighed and shook her head slowly. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? His Grace has made it clear that he is not interested and that is the end of the conversation, I would assume.”
“Perhaps not.” Celia turned and found Gray inching back toward them. “I’m sorry, Celia, I realize I was not invited to this particular conversation, but I overheard it regardless. You assume the duke walked away because of your past, but that might not be true.”
Celia pushed aside her embarrassment at Gray being so aware of her awkward conversation with the duke and clung to the possibility he now presented. “Why do you say that?”
“The Duke of Clairemont and I are of an age. Stenfax and I were in school with him a very,verylong time ago. We lost touch for years, but after I inherited and began to invest, Clairemont wrote to me. He was interested in my dealings and connections. He has long been invested in my businesses. You said he turned away when you mentioned my name, didn’t you?”
Celia nodded. “Yes.”
Gray smiled as if he were more certain of what he was saying than before. “It may be that Clairemont was more concerned with the potential complications to our business relationship by talking to you without a chaperone or a proper introduction than he was worried about your broken engagement.”
Celia moved closer, hope flaring dangerously in her chest. “Do you think so?”
“His correspondence is…” Gray pursed his lips. “Well, he is a meticulous man, we’ll say. And quite concerned with managing his business relationships closely. I would say it is a good possibility.”
Rosalinde slipped an arm around her. “You see? You jumped to a conclusion that may not be truth after all.”
Celia let out a sigh of relief. “I hope what you say is true, Gray.”
He cast a quick glance at Rosalinde before he said, “Well, there is one way to find out, I suppose. What if we invited him for supper?”
Celia’s eyes went wide. “Do you think he would come?”
“Why not? A party like this is too difficult to truly talk to anyone. And I get the feeling the man is slightly overwhelmed by his return to Society after so long away.”
“Yes,” Celia agreed. “On the terrace, he seemed out of sorts.”
“I’m certain he would jump at the offer of a quieter gathering,” Rosalinde said with a wide smile for Gray. “And then we could ascertain with certainty why the man walked away tonightandif he’s worth all this anxiety on your part.”
Celia couldn’t help her broad smile. Rosalinde was right that a more intimate setting would give her a chance to read Clairemont better. But then again, if he didn’t want to know her better, if her past did cut off a chance of a future, it would be a rather embarrassing night.
But if that happened, then she’d feign a headache and simply vow to avoid him for the rest of her life.
There, it was decided.
“If you have other business with the duke, I think inviting him to supper is a fine idea,” Celia said, trying to sound like she wasn’t fully invested in whatever Gray did. “As I said, I got along with the man insofar as we talked. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”
Gray nodded, though the look he and Rosalinde exchanged wasn’t subtle to say the least. “Excellent. Then I will send an invitation tomorrow morning for supper the night after. Now, Celia, would you like the dance?”
Celia smiled at her brother-in-law and took his hand to go to the dance floor. But as they moved into the allemande together, her mind spun on thoughts of the Duke of Clairemont. A night together in the company of her sister and brother-in-law would allow her to see him again, and perhaps even test a little more of the connection she had felt with him outside.
After all, what harm could it do?
CHAPTER FIVE
Clairemont had always prided himself in his ability to plan. No one in the War Department was better than him at orchestrating the accidental meeting or the carefully handled conversation that would casually lead to real information.
But after the Marquess Harrington’s ball, he hadn’t been forced to arrange such a casual way to come face to face with Miss Celia Fitzgilbert and her family. An invitation had arrived the next morning in Grayson Danford’s neat, even handwriting that Clairemont had come to know so well during the course of his investigation.
I’m sorry the crush of the ball prevented us from speaking. Won’t you join my family for supper tomorrow night?
Clairemont had read that note over and over, trying to find every nuance, trying to ascertain guilt or innocence in the turn of the phrases, the hand. But he had discovered nothing. Still, it was a good opportunity to meet privately with the man.
And a better opportunity to see Celia. He hated to admit it, but although he should have put more focus on Mr. Danford,shewas more on his mind.
Now he stood in the parlor of Danford’s London home, waiting for the arrival of his hosts. He took the opportunity to make some observations. The chamber was small, but beautifully appointed. As Clairemont paced the perimeter of the room, he took note of expensive furnishings and decoration. The man was making money, everyone knew that.
But how much of it was legitimate, and how much was taken from the broken backs of spies and soldiers?
