And Celeste was pleased that it appeared her charity would be a success—except, being ignored when it had beenheridea originally stung.
To his credit, the duke tried to include Celeste. He ensured Celeste and her family, as well as Dame Beatrice, were invited to every rout, ball, and event he attended. When hosts and hostesses drew him up on a dais to speak to the gathering about Our Brave Soldiers, he asked Celeste to stand by his side. When questions were asked, he deferred them to her.
But that didn’t mean she was given any credit.
The world insisted he be in charge. Everyone acted drawn to this new, responsible Duke of Salcombe. Even Lord Liverpool sought him out for conversations. Celeste couldn’t help but feel abandoned.
Especially since Salcombe had been all that was proper after that one, singular kiss. It was almost as if he didn’t recall the kiss. What had been a revelation for her had apparently not been all that interesting to him.
But he did call often and seemed to enjoy teasing her. A time or two, he would touch her. It was not anything dramatic—a brush on her arm, perhaps leaning a touch closer than one should, that sort of thing. One day, when he was driving her around the park so she could privately school him on what he should say at an upcoming meeting at his club, he pulled over.
“Is something the matter?” she asked.
“The wind,” he answered and then, removing one glove, gently tucked one of her curls that had blown free from under her bonnet back behind her ear.
His expression was intent, as if he was concentrating on the task, wanting to see it done right. His face was mere inches from hers. His eyes lifted to meet hers. Their gazes held.
She found it hard to breathe, let alone think.
Then he sat back, smiled at her, put on his glove, and they were off again… as if nothing untoward had taken place.
George believed he didn’t have to call on them as often as he did. “He is interested in you,” she said.
“Nonsense. He can have any woman he wants.” Why should he settle on her? There were many women more statuesque, more beautiful.
“Then why is he here every time we turn around?”
“He likes our chef and our brewer.”
“I think he likesyou,” George insisted.
Those were dangerous words. Celeste mulled over them more than she should. Occasionally, she sensed him watching her. Except when she looked in his direction, his attention was always on something or someone else. Never her. She needed to keep herself in check.
Furthermore, he was high-handed and male—and therein lay the challenge.
Celeste was dressedbut had not yet had a cup of strong tea or a bite of toast when Rodman knocked on her bedroom door and informed her that Salcombe was currently sitting at their breakfast table,again.
George was still abed but overheard. “I’ll be down to chaperone,” her twin groaned and stretched her arms. “Provided I can manage to open my eyes. The fireworks at the Lovetts’ were spectacular. A pity you and Josephine had already gone home.” She referred to their youngest sister.
Celeste and Josephine had left the ball shortly after Salcombe took his leave. He’d taken a moment to address Lord Fromhurst, who had requested to speak to him alone about the charity. They all wanted to speak to him. Alone. She was never invited into those conversations. She supposed that the duke and Lord Fromhurst had gone off to one of London’s gentlemen’s clubs. Women were not invited.
And here was the galling thing: After his departure, Celeste discovered that the ball had gone decidedly flat.
Now, he was downstairs…waiting for her. He might have information about his discussion with Lord Fromhurst.
“You sleep,” she advised George. “He’s here so often, no one will bat an eye about my meeting him over breakfast. He does like Cook’s beefsteak.”
“He likesyou,” George answered.
Celeste kept her opinion to herself. There was no arguing with George.
In the family dining room, she found Salcombe happily drinking Kenbrooks ale and munching on a mound of bacon. Without any greeting, he said, “Fromhurst wants to be a named patron?—”
“A patron?” She frowned down at him seated at the table.
“—I told him yes. I will also be meeting with the Marquess of Penaly in an hour. He’s a morning person as well. He wants to be a patron of the charity, too.”
Celeste stared at him. “Wait. How many patrons will we have?”
