She spoke. “I appreciate your offer, Your Grace. I cannot buy the property— not yet, at least. Once the charity is set up, I will come into an inheritance.”
“An inheritance?”
“Yes, it is the terms of Father’s will. He’s giving each of my sisters and me a task. Once it is finished, we receive a gift of money. I intend to use my money for the charity. It doesn’t seem right to keep it for myself when others are in so much need.”
Something seemed to ease inside of him as if he was coming to a decision. He stood slowly.
She frowned. She wasn’t ready for him to leave.
He said, “I’ll send my coach for you in the morning. Half past ten? Is that good?”
Celeste couldn’t stop her smile. She was going to Greenwich with him. “Yes, Your Grace.”
He scowled. “Stop the formalities. You just called me Oliver. Please continue. I give you leave. We are in this endeavor together. Hopefully, one of these days you will trust me?”
She thought of his hand so close to hers a mere minute before. “I do trust you.”
“You are a poor liar, Celeste.”
That was true. She ducked her head so he couldn’t see how ridiculously pleased she was that he had used her given name again.
“You will need a chaperone—and don’t spout nonsense about being seven and twenty,” he warned as he started for the door. “I’ll not be your ruin.”
“Have the coach pick me up at Dame Beatrice’s residence, then.” Celeste wasn’t about to ask her mother or one of her sisters to accompany her. This was her adventure. Her way of honoring her late father’s memory . . . and her opportunity to feel an equal to the duke. She surprised herself at how important that was to her. Bea wouldn’t distract or judge her like her family would. “I’ll write the address.” She hurried down the hall to her brother’s study. Scratching out the address, she left the room to find the duke waiting for her in the front hall.
She handed him the slip of paper. “Thank you,” she said.
He tipped his hat and left.
The moment the door shut, Celeste almost crumpled with exhaustion. Standing up for oneself was trying business... especially against him. Everything about Oliver challenged her. He was too bold, too quick…too handsome.
Oh, yes, she was more than attracted to him.
She needed to remember he wasn’t interested in her. Not truly. He was a rake. Rakes knew how to tap into women’s senses, into their emotions. It was their nature. He couldn’t help but lure her to him.
Except, she was stronger than most women, she told herself… and prayed that was true as she headed up the stairs to tell George a story about Dame Beatrice inviting her for a visit.
Oliver expertly steeredhis high-perch phaeton around a couple crossing the road as he drove away. Lady Celeste—Celeste, he liked her name, and he liked that she pushed back against him.
Because he likedher.
True, she was a guarded creature. She didn’t trust easily, but neither did he.
She’d also changed his life. Because of her, his peers now considered him a leader, a man of substance.
Celeste had done that. Celeste had created the opportunity that led others to see him for who he was.
However, something else going on.
He wasn’t a dullard. He knew when a woman was attracted to him. However, he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt the same in return. Her approval was important to him. When he was with her, he felt purposeful, and he liked her speaking to him as an equal.
And when her eyes lit up with indignation, when she challenged him, when she spoke her mind, he found her magnificent.
7
Oliver didn’t visit the Elberling estate often. It had never been a favorite of his family. So, he was apprehensive about the state of the house, especially since he barely remembered the place. He had grown up in the family home in Dartmoor.
“It is a different home when compared to the usual country manor,” he warned Dame Beatrice and Celeste.
