“And uncle cannot sell it or take it back?” Celestine asked.
“No,” Cedric assured her.
Finally, Ophelia spoke up, “Thank you, Your Grace. I have insufficient words to thank you for this. I thought I could handle this on my own, but Mr. Baur was blocking me at every turn.”
“You’ll not have to worry about him or work with him again,” Cedric rubbed his face, frowning at the pricks of his beard coming in. “I suspect he is engaging in illegal opportunities himself, so my steward will be managing your home as well.”
“The deed of trust he signed gives me the authority to collect rents, maintain the properties, and oversee tenants. Meanwhile, your uncle retains his title and dignity until he dies and the titlepasses. But for now, the responsibility of management rests with me.”
Ophelia’s shoulders sank. “I apologize for not attending your ball, Duke Holloway.”
“No offense taken,” he said, while fixing a cup of coffee.
“Your Grace,” Celestine asked hesitantly. “How is Lord Stromwell?”
Giving her a curious look, Cedric replied. “As far as I know, he’s well. Why do you ask?”
Ariadne too looked at her sister, but she did not say anything. Celestine blushed and dropped her eyes to the tarts on her plate. “He sent me flowers a couple of days ago, and I replied, but I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Silas is chronically polite,” Cedric told her with a note of reticence in his voice. “He is the sort to send flowers even if there is no underlying intention of courtship.
“I want to support you, Miss Celestine, but it behooves me to warn you not to hang your hat on him as so many ladies do. If it happens, I am sure it will be wonderful but… take caution.”
Ariadne reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand comfortingly. “It will be all right, even if it is not him.”
Celestine gave her sister a weak smile. Celestine held on for a few moments before pulling away to finish her tea. His eyes landed on Marigold next and he wondered for a moment what was going through her head. What did she want for her future? Whom did she want to be in her future? Did she even want to marry at all?
Maybe this is what Ariadne and I need to talk about next.
“Are we going to be served refreshments only or—” Isolde looked around, “—is there anything heavier?”
“You can request dinner,” Cedric said. “The menu, however, is not under my control.”
“I’ll risk it,” Isolde said while standing to go and find a waiter.
Later that afternoon, with the house kerfuffle behind them, Cedric returned from his washing room and headed to his study’s desk—only to slow his walk.
Stepping closer, he looked out into the empty green expanse he spotted Emily skipping about, holding a thin wooden rod with a bunch of feathers dangling from it.
To his surprise, Ariadne was there too. Dressed in a faded day gown, she was holding her own toy, and the two were gamboling about playing with the tiny drop of lint.
He could not move, not an inch, as he watched the two romp like children on the lawns. He watched as the cat leaped to hook its little paws in the feathers and only to tumble on its back, but leapt up to charge after Ariadne.
Something cracked in his chest.
Ariadne was the most headstrong, tenacious woman he’d ever met... yet he had to admit that she was generally not underhanded about it, certainly not like his dead wife and her deviousness, her ability to slyly twist him into knots of guilt and anger.
Not once had he felt like he needed to be on guard or reconsider his actions while being with Ariadne.
A tender emotion surged up his chest when he saw Ariadne catch Emily and swing her around, his child’s laughter loud enough to travel to him on the second floor.
Resting a hand on the windowsill, he leaned in and smiled as Ariadne lifted her skirts and ran with Emily and the kitten loping behind them.
The feeling in his chest began to permeate through his breastbone, and he wondered if this warmth was what love felt like.
When he married Helena, the attraction had been fierce and heady, like being thrown headfirst into the tumultuous oceanand holding onto one slip of driftwood. He’d bobbed below the surface many times, craving for air and praying to find a foothold.
With Ariadne, he felt as if he were lying in a meadow, the sun soft on his face and peace all around him. There was no panic, no grief, no bracing himself for betrayal or insidious mind games.
