“I wouldn’t say entirely smoothly,” Danford sighed. “I’m actually happy you’re here so we can speak about the issues I’m encountering in person.”
Clairemont focused so that he would recall every detail to write down later. “Go ahead. I’m happy to discuss any problems.”
“You recommended Perry, and I appreciate that, for he does seem to know his way around the logistics of building such an endeavor,” Danford said. “But Clairemont, I still question the prudence of putting the termination of the port at Withershank. It’s a tiny town, not ready to handle the increased traffic the opening of the port will immediately create. I went down there to inspect the place myself right before my marriage and it was worse than I thought. But Perry insists he can hire men to manage it.”
“You don’t like his picks?” Clairemont asked mildly.
“I don’t,” Danford admitted, and nodded up at the servant as the drinks were brought.
He waved the man away and poured Clairemont a bit of sherry himself. When they’d taken their glasses, Clairemont couldn’t ignore how Danford gripped his, almost white-knuckled. He truly did seem troubled.
“What’s wrong with them?” Clairemont pressed.
“They’re…” Danford hesitated. “I don’t know how to describe it. There’s just a wrongness about them. A roughness that I normally wouldn’t hire. Now, I know you trust Perry—he’s a relative or some such thing, isn’t he?”
Clairemont nodded. “Some such thing,” he said, unwilling to set himself into a lie until he verified it was the same one the real duke had told.
“Then I don’t mean to make it uncomfortable,” Danford said. “The canal system is wonderful. It’s an easy way to transport goods that is safer and more efficient. And I won’t deny that the profit is excellent. But these byways could also be used for far worse purposes. If we have the wrong people running them, they could be used for something like…”
He trailed off, and Clairemont leaned forward. “Like?”
Danford looked around, like he wanted to be certain they weren’t overheard. “Like smuggling.”
Clairemont was careful in his reaction. Danford seemed truly troubled at that statement and he wanted to believe that his attitude was real. But there was always the possibility that his companion had arranged for the murder or even murdered the real Clairemont himself. That all this was a complex ruse and that he knew full well that the Clairemont before him was false.
“It’s a troubling thought that our plans are not going through as we hoped. I’ll send word to Perry myself,” Clairemont said.
“Good,” Danford said, and looked truly relieved. “I would appreciate that. Now, we have our drinks so let us toast to happier things.”
Clairemont lifted his glass. “To the future.”
“To Celia,” Danford said, smiling as their glasses clinked together.
Clairemont fought a frown as he sipped the sherry. He hardly tasted it over the bitterness on his tongue. To Celia, who he would possibly destroy. The idea made him sick.
But there was nothing to do but move forward in his plan, especially now that he had more information. And if he would hurt her, he had damned well better make it worth it.
Celia looked up from her sewing as Gray strode into the parlor. As he did so, Rosalinde got to her feet and moved toward him with a smile.
“Is my sister here?” Gray asked as they met each other and kissed.
“No, Felicity hasn’t yet arrived. We didn’t expect you for another hour,” Rosalinde said, touching his cheek before she pressed another kiss to his lips.
Celia blushed as her mind flashed briefly to Aiden and his kiss, not only at this home, but on the terrace at the ball two days before. She had been thinking of those kisses far too much lately. They even kept her up at night, tossing and turning as her body reacted in ways she had never expected.
Aiden made her feel…needy. Achy. Hot. She tried very hard to be ladylike about the entire thing, but he didn’t make it easy. After all, he had been writing her regularly when they didn’t meet. The letters weren’t untoward, but when she read them, she heard his words in his voice and every single syllable felt loaded with the physical connection they had built.
“I planned on being at the club a little longer,” Gray said, breaking into Celia’s scandalous thoughts. “But I suppose Felicity not being here is not such a bad thing. I have private news to share, which is why I’m early.”
“News?” Rosalinde asked, drawing him to sit beside her on the settee.
“Shall I go?” Celia asked. “Let you two be alone?”
Gray laughed. “I don’t think so. After all, my news involvesyou, Celia.”
All at once, Celia knew exactly what Gray’s news was. Aiden had asked him to court her, as he had promised to do two nights before. He hadn’t mentioned it again in his correspondence since, but the pledge hung between them. Her heart began to pound and she set her sewing aside blindly as she stared at Gray.
It seemed Rosalinde had guessed the same thing, even though Celia hadn’t mentioned Aiden’s intention. Until he spoke to Gray, she hadn’t wanted to breathe of it, in case Aiden’s plans changed.
