Stalwood smiled. “I’m pleased you agree. Otherwise I would have had to pull rank.”
Dane motioned Stalwood back toward their murder scene. “You know I don’t give a damn about rank.”
“When you’re a duke you’ll be above me, if it helps.”
That elicited a laugh Dane couldn’t contain. “Actually, that’s the best reason I’ve heard yet to do this foolish thing. Outrank the Earl of Stalwood? I cannot wait.”
But deep in his heart, Dane knew that was a lie. A bitter lie at that. He was not looking forward to this. But he knew his duty and he would serve his king with all the honor he’d been trained to uphold.
CHAPTER TWO
April 1811
Celia Fitzgilbert sat at the pianoforte, letting her fingers dance over the keys as she played out a mournful song. Her sister, Rosalinde, preferred a happier tune, but tonight Celia could not manage it. Her heart hurt too much not to express it with the music she played. The loss was too great.
As if on cue, Rosalinde stepped into the room. Her sister’s beautiful face was lit up with pure happiness, her blue eyes aglow with what Celia knew was deepest love and joy. And why wouldn’t she be so happy? Her marriage less than six months before was one filled with love and passion.
After all they’d been through in their lives, Rosalinde’s contentment was wonderful to see. But it was also isolating. Celia had spent so much time telling herself that she didn’t need those things, now being in such close quarters with Rosalinde and her husband, Grayson Danford, slapped her in the face with reality. In truth, she longed for such a deep connection as they shared.
Her fingers faltered on the keys and she stopped playing with a sudden, incongruous note.
Rosalinde stepped forward with a shake of her head. “Oh, please don’t stop playing. I love to hear you.”
Celia forced a smile to her face and looked up at Rosalinde. “I’m afraid Imuststop playing. After all, we should leave for the ball soon.”
Her sister slipped a gentle hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You sound anxious.”
Celia shrugged. “It is only the second ball I have gone to since our return to London last week. I cannot help but remain nervous.”
Rosalinde shook her head. “But there has been no scandal following you after your broken engagement. From what I’ve seen at every event we’ve attended, there are a few whispers, but the overall response is positive.”
Celia held back a sigh. Just a few months before, she had been pledged to marry the Earl of Stenfax, who was the brother of her sister’s new husband. It had been a loveless match, to be certain, and one that had been fought strenuously against by her new brother-in-law and eventually, her sister, though they each had very different reasons.
Breaking the engagementshouldhave destroyed Celia in the eyes of Society. But it hadn’t.
“You and Gray saved me from the worst with your true love story. The idea that I would step aside so you could marry into the family for love made both Stenfax and I look like heroes. So no, it has not been unpleasant. But it’s an adjustment, regardless.”
“What has been an adjustment?” Gray asked as he entered the room.
Rosalinde’s face brightened immediately and she all but glided toward him. The expression on his hard face softened as she straightened his cravat, and Celia had the very strong impression that had she not been standing there, the two might have kissed. Not that her being there stopped them every time. They were enjoying what was obviously a very happy honeymoon period. Some nights there was no denying it at all.
She cleared her throat as heat filled her cheeks. “Rosalinde and I were talking about my nervousness about the ball tonight.”
“Ah,” Gray said as he stepped away from Rosalinde and toward Celia. He held out a hand and she took it. “What can I do to help?”
Celia stared up into his face and smiled. It was strange that such a short time ago she had despised this man. He had been working to break up her engagement to his brother—he had thought her nothing more than a title-grabber. But since he had married Rosalinde, Gray had been very kind to Celia. They had developed a budding friendship, in fact. One she could tell would grow and deepen over the years. She never would have guessed that could happen, even in her wildest dreams.
“Nothing, Gray,” she said softly. “Thank you, though. Your being there will be comfort enough.”
At that sentence, Gray’s hand dropped away from hers and his smile fell. “I’m not certain I am there enough, foreitherof you. I have something to tell you both.”
Rosalinde moved forward and wrapped an arm around Celia. Celia felt her tremble slightly and she couldn’t help but do the same.
“Is it about our father?” Celia asked.
Gray’s face told the story even before he said a word. Since their marriage, he had been searching out information about Celia and Rosalinde’s father, a servant who had lost them when their powerful grandfather snatched them away after their mother’s death. The two women had been lied to their whole lives about his identity, his whereabouts. Only when their wicked grandfather had wanted to blackmail Celia into marrying a title to satisfy his ambition had he dangled the truth of the man before them.
And Celia did sodesperatelywant to know who he was. She’d been ready to go through with a loveless marriage for that information. To bargain with her grandfather, a man who had once tried to kill Rosalinde.
