The next morning, she revealed what she’d done to her twin, Georgiana, confessing that she had finagled a meeting with the duke at the Jensen ball. They had both not yet gone down to break their fast.
“The Duke of Salcombe was my last hope. He is the only one with the courage to flout Lady Redhill. If he were willing to support my charity, I would have heard from him by now.”
“Only a day has passed. He might still be thinking about the matter,” George, Celeste’s nickname for her twin, said sympathetically.
Celeste shook her head. “He is a suspicious man. He thought I was attempting to trap him into marriage—as if I would marry such an arrogant beast.”
“Wait, why would he think you had set up a marriage trap? We don’t even know him.”
“It is Lady Redhill’s fault. She interrupted us while I was asking for his help so he jumped to the conclusion that I had orchestrated some scheme.”
George drew in her breath with alarm. “What did she say? Are you a scandal?”
“No, because he kissed me and?—”
“What? Wait. Hold right here. You were kissed by the Dragon?” George didn’t hide her incredulity.
“It wasn’t anything special,” Celeste claimed with a dismissive wave. “He was trying to protect my identity from Lady Redhill. And he took the correct action. She has no idea I was the woman in the library with him. Except once she left, he accusedmeof trying to entrap him into marriage. I informed him I only wished him to be the lead patron of my charity, but he ran off without a word?—”
“Stop.” George raised her palms. “Or at least take a breath.”
Celeste recognized her sister’s good advice. She did need to breathe. She and George were not identical twins. They didn’t even think alike. But she trusted George more than any other person in the world, save for Beatrice.
Into the sudden void, George said, “Here is the important fact. The Dragon of Londonkissedyou.”
“He had no choice. I told you, he was trying to protect my identity from Lady Redhill.”
George’s eyes narrowed. “And kissing you accomplished exactly what, Cece?”
Celeste made an impatient sound. “It created a good reason for why he was in a dark library, alone with a woman. It wasn’t a kiss that he meant.”
George considered this. “He couldn’t just shove you behind a chair or a curtain?”
“There wasn’t time. But it was all for naught because he isn’t interested in supporting my charity.”
“Enough about your charity,” George answered. “Is he a good kisser?”
Now, that was a question. There had been moments since the ball when the memory of that kiss threatened Celeste’s sanity, but she wasn’t about to confess that to her sister. “It was meaningless,” she informed George primly. “What concerns me is that I will not be able to honor Father’s last request. He believed I could do this, and instead, I’ve failed"
A knock on their bedroom door interrupted them. Rodman, their butler, announced, “The Duke of Salcombe is here to see you, Lady Celeste.”
George’s eyes widened in amazement. “Never see him again? And this is early for a call.”
“I have no idea why he is here.”
Another knock. “Lady Celeste?”
“Please tell him I shall be down momentarily,” Celeste said calmly, but inside, panic seized her. She turned to the looking glass. She appeared pale. And should she change from the simple blue day dress she was wearing? Or pin up her hair?
George rose from the bed and crossed the bedroom to open the door.
“Where are you going?” Celeste asked.
“One of us should greet him. Besides, you will need a chaperone.”
Her words were the impetus Celeste needed to move. “No, I don’t,” she informed her twin as she hurried to beat her downthe hall to the staircase. “He is calling on a matter of business importance. This isn’t a social call."
“No one will believe that,” George tossed over her shoulder as she bounced down the steps.
