“I thought I was making conversation,” she replied, her heart in her throat.
“You were putting me off.” He let go of the rein. “The one thing I’ve always counted on with you, Celeste, is your honesty. Your directness. However, something is bothering you, and don’t push me away with more talk about the weather. Your eyes give away everything you are thinking. You became upset when I asked if you trusted me. What is it, Celeste? What have I done?”
You let me fall in love with you.She kept that thought to herself. Instead, she met his eye with what she hoped was a neutral expression and said, “Nothing is wrong. I trust you.”
The lines of his face hardened with disappointment.
“I do,” she pressed. “I trust you.”
Without a word, he turned his horse toward the house. Celeste watched him ride away. The man was maddening. She had the right to keep her thoughts to herself. And besides, who cared if she trusted him or not? She was surprised that he did…and then alarmed that their relationship, something she valued, was in danger of being destroyed.
She kicked her horse forward. Once she was alongside him again, she said, “Why are you acting this way?”
“What way, Celeste?”
“As if I—” She paused, searching for the right words, words that didn’t reveal her own fears, doubts, and desires. “As if I have disappointed you.”
They had reached the front steps. Grooms ran forward to take their horses. This was not the time for an argument, and yet, Celeste didn’t want these sour feelings to remain between them.
She waited until she had dismounted, expecting him to wait for her. Instead, in a breach of manners, he was already moving toward the front door. She hurried to catch him. He had to know she was behind him. She followed him into the house. “Your Grace,” she dared to say, conscious of the servants around them.
Muggins came charging forward to greet the duke, his nails scrabbling on the wood floor. He bent down to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. Celeste used this moment to say in the lowest voice possible, “I do trust you.”
Oliver straightened. He handed his hat and riding gloves to a footman before turning to her and saying, “Then be honest with me.”
“I am.”
His somber eyes met hers. They narrowed slightly, and then, without a word to her, he went up the stairs, Muggins following happily at his heels.
9
“How was the property?” Beatrice asked when Celeste came down after changing for dinner. Bea was in the receiving room enjoying more of Salcombe’s sherry.
“Good,” Celeste answered.
“Would you care for a drink?” Bea asked. “It is very good sherry.”
Celeste shook her head.
Her friend frowned. “What is the matter?”
But before Celeste could answer, Oliver joined them. A subdued Oliver. Oh, he was amiable enough but quiet, and he didn’t look at her. Once they sat down for dinner, Bea asked him about the property, and he expounded as little as Celeste had. Her friend looked from him to Celeste, who concentrated on buttering a slice of bread.
Celeste was quickly understanding that his pique, as she was beginning to think of it, was all for the better. He was keeping his distance, and that was the way things should be.
Bea acted puzzled but carried on. She smiled as if she didn’t notice anything amiss—until they left the table and adjourned tothe sitting room. There, Oliver made his apologies and excused himself for the evening.
Once they were alone, Bea didn’t waste a moment. “What is going on? Did you and the duke have words?”
“Not really. Everything was fine until it wasn’t.”
“Tell me everything.” And so, to her surprise, Celeste did. She wasn’t one to blurt out her feelings on something so personal, even to Bea. However, this was a moment when she needed to confide in someone.
When she was done, Beatrice said, “This confirms my suspicions.”
“And what do you think?”
“That he is interested in you. Certainly, he wants you. He stares at you whenever he thinks you aren’t looking. Even this evening.”
