The duke stopped in front of her. “Are you pleased? We are the talk of the Town.”
Celeste looked up at him and realized she couldn’t fake pleasantries. Not with him. “I was such an easy conquest, wasn’t I?” She shouldn’t have said it.
Her twin, standing close to her, overhead. George stiffened and moved closer to her. “What is it, Cece? Has something happened?”
“Nothing of importance,” Celeste answered and gave Salcombe her back. She was done with him. She might have left except that the first guests began to arrive. To her annoyance, it was Lord and Lady Redhill and her mother.
The duke’s hand caught hers before she could think of her next move. His gloved grip was tight as he pulled her into the nearest side room. He closed the door behind them, his expression concerned.
“What has happened? You’re angry with me?”
Pride kept her from bursting into tears. “I refuse to expend that much emotion on you. We need to return. Guests are arriving.”
His brows came together. “Are you upset that everyone credits me with the idea of founding the charity? Celeste, I acknowledge that people should not ignore that this is your idea. And they won’t be able to after they see this.” He pulled a vellum card from inside his jacket pocket and offered it to her.
In the finest engraving, it was a program of events for the evening, including the introduction of the Patroness of Our Brave Soldiers, Lady Celeste Harrington. His name was not on the card. He was giving her all the credit.
Celeste frowned at the words. The letters seemed to spin a little, and she closed her eyes. “I—” She started and then stopped. Her pride didn’t want him to know how deeply he had hurt her. But to be silent felt dishonest. Cowardly even.
She loved him and… and…
Annoying tears pooled in her eyes. “You left.”
He leaned down to her, tilting her face up. A tear escaped, and he gently wiped it from her cheek as if it was the most important task he could perform. “I woke you to let you know I had to leave but that I would return.”
She thought of her dream. Of how deeply she’d slept. “I don’t remember.”
“I also wrote you a note.”
“That all would be well? What was ‘well’ about you leaving?”
“Celeste, I had to leave. Otherwise, I could not have traveled to Surrey to see your brother and return in time for this evening’s ball.”
“Why would you go to see him in Surrey?”
He took both of her gloved hands in his own. She noticed he seemed surprisingly nervous, and then he knelt before her. “Celeste, would you—?" He paused. “This is harder than I thought it would be because you could very well refuse me.”
She straightened. “Refuse you?” He now had her full attention.
“My lady, may I have your hand in marriage? Will you be my duchess?”
“Why?” The word burst out of her before she could question the wisdom of it. “You could do so much better.”
“Oh, no, I can’t. Or are you are telling me no?” His brows came together. “You do not care for me? Celeste,I love you. You’ve changed my life. You’ve made me a different person. Any respect I receive is because of you?—”
She launched herself into his arms. He caught her and rose, carrying her with him. He held her fast but not as tightly as she was holding him.
“I love you. I adore you,” she said against his hard chest, the velvet of his evening finery soft against her cheek.
“Does that mean you will be my duchess?”
“Yes, yes, yes, andyes.I was heartbroken when I feared you didn’t care for me.”
“I tried to wake you. I wrote a note?—”
“We shall work on your note writing skills later. Right now, I want you to kiss me.”
And so, he did.
