“That you are not the Beast they whisper about. Nor the untouchable, unfeeling Duke you pretend to be.” Her fingers brushed his shirtfront. “You are a man who has been wounded and is terrified of being wounded again. So you built rules and routines to fortify yourself.”
He gave a short, low laugh. “And what, exactly, are you?”
“A woman who is tired of walls. Who wants something real, even if it is difficult.”
“I can promise difficulty,” he said. “And truth. And perhaps—if you allow it—happiness.”
“Can you promise honesty?”
“Yes.”
“Partnership?”
“Yes.”
“And that this could be… more than a business arrangement that got out of hand?”
“It already is.”
“Is it?” she whispered.
He kissed her again—brief, fierce, honest. “You know it is. You knew it from the first moment. We recognised each other. Two people pretending competence while quietly breaking beneath the strain.”
“Duke and Duchess of Rothwest!”
Lady Vanceley’s shrill voice shattered the moment.
They stepped apart—barely—Elias keeping a proprietary hand at Celine’s waist.
“Lady Vanceley,” he said with cool civility. “How fortunate.”
“Oh, indeed.” Her smile sharpened. “The entire ballroom is aflutter. Three dances! And now a clandestine stroll to the terrace.”
“We are married, Lady Vanceley,” Celine said. “We require no chaperone.”
“Yes, well—propriety is still propriety. And your marriage was hardly proper to begin with, was it?”
Elias went still.
“And what precisely,” he asked in a very soft voice, “do you mean by that?”
“Oh, only that it was all so sudden.” Lady Vanceley gave a simpering shrug. “And with the rumours of dear Baron Broker’s difficulties at the gaming tables... well, one does wonder about the impetus.”
“One does, indeed,” Elias murmured. “Particularly when one has so much time to meddle. Perhaps if ‘one’ spent less time gossiping and more time tending to one’s own household, ‘one’ might notice that Lord Vanceley has been keeping a mistress in Bloomsbury for the past six months.”
Lady Vanceley went white. “How dare you—”
“How dare I deal in truth while you peddle insinuation? Quite easily, as it happens.” He drew Celine closer. “My wife and I married swiftly because we had no desire to delay. If that offends you, look elsewhere for diversion.”
“You are claiming it was a love match?” she demanded.
“I am claiming,” Elias said evenly, “that the nature of my marriage is none of your concern. But if you must havesomething to whisper about, try this: I am wholly, hopelessly devoted to my wife. If she asked it, I would raze half of London. And if anyone continues to malign her—or us—they will regret it.”
Lady Vanceley fled without further argument.
“That was… perhaps excessive,” Celine murmured.
“That was mercy,” Elias said. “What I wished to do was throw her into the shrubbery.”
