“It’s almost impossible to live in the same house as you and Gray and not be inspired by your affection for each other. I fear I may be looking for something that might not exist, at least not for me.”
Rosalinde got up and came to her, wrapping her arms around her waist as she met Celia’s gaze. “Now youareten steps ahead of yourself. Do you like this man?”
Celia nodded. “I do.”
“Then that is a fine start. Whatever comes next will happen naturally.” Rosalinde kissed her cheek. “And you deserve a great deal of happiness, so I will intervene if I feel you won’t receive it.”
“Big sister to the rescue.” Celia laughed. “Good, I will trust you to steer me correctly.”
Rosalinde broke away with her own laugh and both of them took a place on the settee this time. Celia sighed as her thoughts moved from ones of Clairemont to the further reaching consequences if their new connection did blossom.
“He’s a duke,” she said softly.
“He is,” Rosalinde said. “Would you ask me to curtsey when I meet with you if you were to marry him?”
“Of course not.” Celia didn’t laugh at her sister’s teasing, but shifted. “I-I was just thinking that Grandfather would be very happy if I were to wed him. A duke, and one with money and power, is a far better catch in his eyes than the earl he despises me for breaking with.”
Rosalinde stiffened and one of her hands lifted to her throat. Celia flinched at the instinctive action. The last time either of them had seen their grandfather, the man who had raised them, was just before Rosalinde’s wedding. He had attacked her, trying to choke her to death. He might have succeeded too, if it weren’t for Gray’s violent intervention.
Neither woman had heard a peep from him since. Not a threat. Not a conciliatory apology. Not a holiday wish. He was in London, of course, but he hadn’t tried to come in contact with them since their recent arrival.
“Do youcarewhat Grandfather thinks?” Rosalinde asked softly, her voice catching just a touch.
“No,” Celia said. “I despise him for what he did to you, for his attempt at blackmailing me into wedding a title for his ambition. But Rosalinde, Gray’s attempts at uncovering the true identity of our father have been unsuccessful. The only man with that information seems to be Grandfather. If I were to be pursued by a duke, itcouldgive us a bargaining chip for that information.”
Rosalinde recoiled, as if Celia had suggested they invite a poisonous snake to sleep in their beds. She supposed that was exactly what she was doing, in a way. But the facts were the facts, unpleasant as Rosalinde might find them to be.
“You cannot mean you would actually involve him in your future,” Rosalinde said. “Not after what he did, what he is capable of doing.”
“Don’t you want to know about the man who sired us?” Celia asked. “Because I do! I dream of him at night, I wonder about him almost daily. Who was he? Did he care for us? When our mother died, did he grieve? When Grandfather took us, did he fight for us at all?”
“Idowonder those things,” Rosalinde said. “But I still think we are better off continuing to look on our own, rather than making yet another twisted bargain with Gregory Fitzgilbert.”
“Rosalinde—” she began.
Her sister caught her hands and stopped her by saying, “Please, Celia. Enough! I don’t wish to discuss this subject any further.”
Celia let out a great sigh. She couldn’t blame her sister for her strong feelings on the matter, given what she’d endured not so long ago. But Celia feared Rosalinde wasn’t seeing the whole picture. Or perhaps her picture was just different. Rosalinde could make peace with not knowing.
Celia couldn’t.
But there was no use upsetting Rosalinde further. At least not yet. But she wasn’t going to put aside the idea of using her grandfather to get what she wanted.
Especially if a good opportunity was provided by the duke who would rejoin them soon.
CHAPTER SIX
Clairemont folded his hands on his lap and smiled as Danford poured him another drink. So far their conversation had been little more than small talk, a continuation of supper’s topics of discussion.
But Clairemont was about to make a move.
“I suppose I should thank you,” he said.
Danford laughed. “For supper? We were pleased to have you join us.”
“Not for supper, though it was delicious and I more than enjoyed the company,” Clairemont said, trying to push aside thoughts of Celia which kept infecting his mind.
Danford’s eyebrows came up. “Then what?”
