“Oh there are a dozen stories or more,” Tabitha said. “Whatever the truth is,everyoneis agog over his return. He is quite the catch.”
“Despite being horribly disfigured or mad? Or both?” Celia asked mildly.
Honora let out a huff of breath. “He’stitledandrich—did you not hear that part?”
Celia held back a sigh. She hated to be mercenary, especially after all she’d gone through breaking her engagement to Stenfax, but the idea of this duke’s titledidappeal to her. Since Gray had had little luck in finding out her father’s identity, she couldn’t help but wonder if her grandfather might consider honoring his original bargain with her.
Marry a title to satisfy him and receive the information that was so well-hidden. Rosalinde would hate that. She wouldn’t want Celia anywhere near the old man.
But Rosalinde didn’t need the truth as much as Celia felt she did. It didn’t eat at her at night, it didn’t haunt her every time she looked in the mirror and wondered if she had her father’s nose or chin.
“Are you well, my dear?” Tabitha asked, tilting her face to get a closer look at Celia. “You have gotten very pale.”
Celia shook her head. These were not thoughts she should entertain. Likely when this mysterious duke arrived he would not be interested in her at all. He would probably be a boring, fat aristocrat who already knew exactly what family he would merge his own with. There was no use getting one’s hopes up over a mirage.
“I’m fine, I was woolgathering,” she said with a smile to reassure her friends.
Tabitha didn’t look certain, but before she could follow up with more questions or concerns, the crowd in the room began to titter and shift. It seemed everyone in the room turned toward the door at once as the servant there made some muffled announcement.
Celia turned with them, lifting on her tiptoes to see who had caused the commotion.
“It must be him,” Honora breathed, her hand coming up to fluff her hair. “Itmustbe!”
Celia supposed her friend must be correct, for this mysterious duke was the only addition to Society that would cause such a stir. The crowd began to part, splitting apart like a torn seam, and then the few people before her stepped aside and she caught her breath.
An impeccably dressed man now stood not three feet from her. And he was utterly beautiful, with dark blond hair and steely gray eyes that swept over the room. He had an angled face with a strong jaw and a slightly imperfect nose, like he had broken it at some point during his life. But the imperfection only made the rest of his face that much more striking.
He shifted slightly, revealing some discomfort on his handsome face. And something else, too. Sadness. There was a sadness in his eyes that spoke to Celia in a visceral and immediate way.
“That’shim?” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off of him. Tabitha and Honora nodded mutely. “He certainly isn’t scarred.”
“Or fat,” Honora added. “Or hideous.”
“No,” Celia whispered as he turned away and smiled as their host and hostess, the Marquess and Marchioness Harrington, rushed to greet their coup of a guest. He was led off into the crowd and it felt like the air had been let back into the room. Celia sucked in a gulp of it with a shiver.
She had never had such a strong reaction to a stranger before. A man. It was like her whole body was tingling and her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that the rest of the sounds in the room were muffled by the rush of blood.
“I think he’ll be even more of a catch now that we’ve all seen him,” Tabitha said with a sigh. “The Diamonds of the First Water will wrestle for him and some lucky girl will land him before the summer, I can almost guarantee it!”
Celia blinked as those words sank in. Of course that was true. The mamas would swarm on their newcomer before he could settle in for five minutes, and he would be the focus of their manipulations until someone had landed him.
Someone who would almost certainlynotbe Celia Fitzgilbert. She turned away from where the duke had stood and took a few more deep breaths. It was foolish to be swept away by the appearance of a handsome face. And if she were smart, she’d just forget about the man.
Only she didn’t think that would be so easy to do.
CHAPTER THREE
Dane stood with the Earl of Stalwood, staring out at the swirling crowd of dancers. It seemed every time a pair passed him, they whispered to each other and stared pointedly in his direction. He shifted with discomfort at the unexpected and utterly unwelcome attention.
“So Clairemont, what do you think?” Stalwood asked, breaking through the cloud of his thoughts.
Dane blinked a few times.Clairemont. He was Clairemont now, and he had tothinkof himself that way so he didn’t slip up in his duty.
“It seems a perfect place to find our marks,” he said slowly, speaking with the more formal accent he had been perfecting for two long months. It came naturally now, even if it still sounded foreign to his ears.
Stalwood nodded as he surveyed the crowd around them. Unlike Dane, there was no discomfort or feeling out of place for the earl. “Indeed. The duke might not have met with people in person during the past decade, but his correspondence included a great many of those in this room.” Stalwood’s tone grew hard. “Likely one or more of them were involved in his schemes. One may have even killed him.”
Dane…no,Clairemont—now more than ever he had to immerse himself in his role so that he never slipped—shifted with discomfort.
