She agreed. “What of families, though? The men should be able to start families.”
“They can build the cottages themselves. The charity will provide the materials.”
Celeste liked the idea, especially after Mr. Vickery showed them a level pasture that would make it easy to create a villageof cottages. By the end of the tour, she was impressed with the property and grateful to Oliver for having found it.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.”
“The Forest Hare is down the road a bit,” Mr. Vickery offered helpfully. They said their goodbyes and rode to the public house that wasn’t far from the main road.
The duke ordered ale and a steak while Celeste chose a roasted chicken and some cider. After the serving woman left them, she assumed they would continue to discuss their plans for the pensioners.
Instead, Salcombe surprised her by asking, “Am I forgiven for naming the charity Our Brave Soldiers without your approval?”
She blushed, slightly embarrassed by how angry she’d been. “You have made up for the transgression. And it is a good title.”
“But have I regained your trust?”
He was serious, she realized. He sounded as if her answer mattered to him.
She warned herself to be careful, to not read too much into the question. Keeping her tone light, she said, “I thought dukes, especially one considered to be a dragon, didn’t worry about what people thought of them.”
“I’m not asking ‘people.’ I’m askingyou. I know I can be domineering. However, this charity means a great deal to me. I don’t wish to live a shallow life. I also feel an affinity for those men. All any of us desire is an opportunity to be treated with respect. I believe we will give that to a good number of men who deserve it.”
“It is the purpose of this whole endeavor,” she agreed. Her father would have been proud.
“So, I ask again, am I forgiven?”
“There is nothing to forgive, Oliver. You were acting as you thought best.”
The corner of his mouth quirked to one side, and then he said, “I remember you reacted with strong feelings.” He paused and then added, “However, I have tried to earn your trust.”
“Does it matter, Your Grace?” she asked.
“It matters to me, Celeste.”
He sounded sincere. She could feel him watching her closely. And suddenly, the air between them seemed thick with unspoken questions, questions she wouldneverask.
Deep within her, she could hear George’s voice sayinghe’s interested in you.
She took in his features, the intensity in his eyes, the lines of his nobly handsome face, the broad shoulders, the man who could have any woman he wanted. Why would he settle for her?
In that moment, she felt vulnerable. She didn’t like the feeling. For the briefest second, her heart urged her to risk all and confess that not only did she trust him, but she also admired him—no, that wasn’t the truth. She was falling in love with him.
Of course, she was just one of a legion of women who yearned for Oliver. And she needed to remember that. Her pride demanded it.
She stood. “We should be leaving.” She didn’t wait for him but marched for the door. He had no choice but to stay behind and pay for their meal. She waited outside, taking deep breaths and having a stern, silent lecture with herself. She had no desire to appear a fool.
He joined her. “Celeste—” he started, but she interrupted.
“The groom has fetched the horses,” she said brightly, as if all was fine. “Look, here he is.” She didn’t wait for his help to mount but let the groom assist her. Soon they were on their way back to Elberling.
She spoke first, returning the conversation to safe topics, like the charity, or the weather, or what a sweet mount she was riding. He answered politely, but she sensed his annoyance, and the earlier ease between them had vanished.
They were in sight of Elberling’s arched walls when he suddenly reached for her rein and pulled her mare to a stop. Celeste frowned. “What is the matter?”
“You ask me what is the matter? You have been chattering without pause ever since the inn.”
