“Miss Langston, your servant.” He made an elegant leg before her. Celia instantly relaxed and greeted him as naturally as she could.
Celia stood trying to converse with the gentlemen as she allowed her eyes to scan the room for a certain dark head and broad shoulders. There was no sign of Severly.
The strain of trying to keep up this polite chatter so set her nerves on edge that Celia considered feigning illness. Just as quickly, she dismissed the notion, knowing Imy would insist on returning home with her. Celia could not bear to cut short the evening for her friend. Imy was so proud of her. She could hardly hide her triumph over Celly’s rapidly filling dance card.
But Celia could find no satisfaction in the number of her admirers this evening. The duke had made good on his promise to avoid her, for she had not encountered him since she had escaped the blue salon yesterday afternoon.
Of their own volition, her eyes again scanned the crowded room, and her gaze clashed with a pair of china-blue eyes. Lady Kendall, standing nearby, was staring at Celia with narrowed eyes and excited, flushed cheeks.
Celia immediately looked away. Celia had no desire to risk a repetition of the embarrassingly personal conversation they had had at Kensington Gardens. If she hadn’t been so distracted, Celia might have wondered over Lady Kendall’s curious behavior. But she was much too occupied with her own disturbing thoughts and trying to attend to the many attentive gentlemen hovering around to take real note of anyone else.
Forcing her gaze to the earl’s face, Celia pushed thoughts of the duke from her mind for the tenth time of the evening.
At that moment, the noisy chatter in the assembly room reduced by half and all heads turned to the doors.
The Duke of Severly, with a grim expression on his face, made his entrance.
Celia’s heart leaped at the sight of him. Fanning herself vigorously, she came to a difficult decision: She was going to apologize to him as soon as he asked her to dance. After much reflection, she had come to realize that she had deeply insulted him with her accusations of his heartlessness toward her when she had been younger. Now, reflecting upon the past with the eyes of an adult, she could see that she had been mistaken about him. He had not intended for Imy to put her out, and she had been childish to harbor such grievances all these years.
She still refused to examine the kiss that had transpired between them at Chandley, but she was determined to do what she could to put their friendship back on the former easy footing they had established since coming to London. Celia watched him make his way through the crowded room.
He looked in her direction and she gave him a tentative smile. His gaze passed over her coldly. Celia barely suppressed a gasp. He had snubbed her. He must hate her for what she had said to him, she realized with a numbing pain in her heart. A welcome wave of shock rolled over the pain that gripped her chest. She blindly turned to Sir Belford as he claimed her hand for a country reel.
Lady Kendall had also noticed Drake’s arrival.
Handing her glass to a passing footman, she approached a small group of her intimates with an unflattering set to her jaw. Calling a gay greeting, she said, “Lady Baldridge! Lady Pembrington! I have the most shocking news. You must swear not to breathe a word.” The ladies immediately ceased their own conversations and gathered around the countess in excited anticipation.
“We have all been duped!” Letty made her eyes go very wide. “I have it on the most reliable authority that our delightful Miss Langston is not what she appears to be.”
“She’s not an heiress?” Lady Pembrington asked urgently, the green plumes in her turban dancing. She had not spoken with her son since he had informed her of his intention to ask Miss Langston for her hand. “It would be vey distressing if she were not an heiress.”
“No, she is an heiress.” Lady Kendall paused dramatically. “But before she received her inheritance, she was the Duchess of Harbrooke’s paid companion.“
After a moment of complete silence, the small group gasped and tittered at this most delicious gossip.
“No, you must be mistaken!”
“Are you very sure, Lady Kendall?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she said haughtily, “I have it firsthand. She has only recently come into her inheritance.” Lady Kendall was not quite as confident as she sounded. Her information regarding Miss Langston’s past was sketchy at best. When Sophie, her maid, had come home from Severly House with this tale, and the news that Miss Langston would be at Almack’s, Letty knew she could not possibly pass up such a perfect opportunity to expose the chit.
Letty felt incredible pleasure at the avid expressions surrounding her. She had been so pleased with her maid; she had even given the young woman a few of her old gowns. What a stroke of luck that Sophie’s cousin had become Miss Langston’s lady’s maid.
By the knowing looks her friends were exchanging, Letty was confident that the information would be heard by all the ton within half an hour. And soon, Miss Langston would be held in such contempt no one would deign to speak to her, Lady Kendall’s thoughts continued gleefully.
A short time later, as she stood conversing with Lady Jersey and Imogene, Celia suddenly noticed some odd looks cast her way. A few ladies even seemed to be whispering and giggling in her direction. The Countess of Milfordhaven approached them, apologizing profusely, but insisting she must speak with Lady Jersey. The two women went off with their heads close together.
Imogene turned questioning eyes to her friend, wondering if Celia had an idea as to why they suddenly seemed to be the object of speculation. Celia gave a helpless shrug to Imy’s unspoken question.
A moment later, they were set upon by Lady Cowper and a few of her acid-tongued cronies.
“La, the Duchess of Harbrooke and Miss Langston, what a delightful sight the two of you make. So companionable!” The ladies tripped off with gales of laughter. Celia and Imy looked after them in surprised confusion.
The orchestra opened a quadrille, and Celia unexpectedly found herself partnerless. She gazed around the assemblage trying to hide her growing confusion and embarrassment. She avoided the knowing looks as best she could. What could explain this odd turn of events? Could they be following the duke’s example? She knew he was a leader of Society—where he went others did also. It seemed the only explanation to this mystery.
She wanted to leave. Being stared at and whispered about was unnerving in the extreme.
She turned to Imy, ready to express her desire, when Lady Kendall approached. By now, a large number of people were paying close attention to Miss Langston.
Watching her mischief at work, Letty had grown triumphant in the last half hour. She was delighted that Severly had not gone near Miss Langston since his arrival. Half of those assembled seemed to be watching in curious anticipation as Lady Kendall greeted the duchess and Miss Langston. After a few stilted pleasantries, Letty turned sweet eyes to the duchess.
“I’ve been hoping to ask your advice, ma’am.”
“Certainly,” Imy said graciously, trying to hide her suspicion.
“You seem to have such luck in finding good help.” She looked pointedly to Celia. “How would you advise I go about finding a good lady’s companion?” Those nearest them gasped and goggled. Letty was a bold one indeed.
The murmuring grew.
Westlake, who was standing near enough to hear this exchange, turned away angrily to seek out Severly.
He found him playing cards in an antechamber. After catching Severly’s eye, Westlake gave him a significant look and tilted his head toward the door. Momentarily, Severly excused himself from the game.
“Severly,” Westlake began as soon as they were private, “I’ve grown to admire your Miss Langston. Her poise is to be commended.”
“She is not my Miss Langston,” Drake responded in a tight voice, wondering what his friend was about.
“Be that as it may, she is a guest in your home. You have not danced with your guest this evening, and tha
t curious fact has added credence to the rumor that is now circulating the assembly rooms.”
“What are you speaking of?” the duke said irritably, running impatient fingers through his thick hair. He wondered why he had stirred himself to attend this evening. He had always found Almack’s a dead bore.
“Miss Langston is now the object of vicious gossip. It is rumored that she has been trying to pass herself off as a lady. Everyone is giving her the cut direct and whispering. Lady Kendall had just asked your sister her advice on finding a good lady’s companion. Your sudden inattention toward Miss Langston seems to confirm these rumors.” Westlake spoke casually, as if he were discussing the latest play.
Severly stared at his friend in growing comprehension. “Devil take it,” he said in a growl, striding out of the room. Once he reached the ballroom it took only a moment to take in the situation. There was an odd hush over the guests, and his sister’s face was frozen in a polite, dignified mask. Letty’s chin was thrust up in a haughty tilt, and even at this distance he could see the gleam of malicious triumph in her blue eyes.
Celia was speaking to the young Earl of Chandley. Severly was grimly pleased to see she had not been completely abandoned.
The duke watched as Chandley led Celia out to the opening strains of a reel. Severly moved to his sister’s side, trying to force the scowl from his face.
“Severly!” Letty twittered when she saw him. “Shame on you! There are not enough gentlemen who dance well, and you go off to play cards. Why, poor Miss Langston has only had one dance in the last five.” Her laugh was delighted.
At that moment Severly could not comprehend why he’d ever found Leticia Kendall attractive. He liked gold-brown hair not blond. He wanted to look into brownish green eyes that tilted up, not childishly wide blue ones.
“There must indeed be a shortage of gentlemen, for I would dance with Miss Langston every dance if she would consent.” He turned to his sister and offered his arm, ignoring the shocked gasps of those near enough to have heard his comment.
Leading his sister to a pair of empty chairs, Severly quietly asked, “How bad is it?”
Imogene sighed dejectedly. “Rather bad. None of the patronesses has actually snubbed her yet, but everyone is talking and staring. Drake, this is awful. Celia shall be so hurt if all the friends she had begun to make now turn,” she whispered, hoping she did not look as upset as she felt.
“Don’t worry, Imy. The situation can be salvaged.”
“How?” she asked doubtfully.
“Leave it to me and keep your chin up. And do not leave for at least an hour,” he ordered.
The beau monde was treated to an evening of many surprises. Speculation grew to enormous proportions at the sight of the elusive Duke of Severly watching Miss Langston with a frankly admiring gaze. He could barely pull his eyes from her when someone spoke to him.
The room was abuzz when the very fickle Duke of Westlake danced with her twice and seemed to hang on her every word. It could barely be believed when Westlake asked her for an unprecedented third dance, which Miss Langston demurely declined.
The Earl of Chandley also asked Celia for a second dance, and still, Severly stayed on the side, casually leaning against a wall, with his eyes never leaving Miss Langston’s graceful form.
Lady Jersey, one of the most redoubtable patronesses of Almack’s, had been watching this scandal brewing and could not stand another moment of ignorance. Having been on good terms with Severly for years, she took matters into her own hands.
Marching across the assembly room, with most of the eyes of the ton upon her, Lady Jersey called a greeting to the duke.
After dispensing with the necessary social patter as quickly as possible, Lady Jersey got to the point. “Now, Severly, there seems to be something havey-cavey afoot. Why have we not seen Miss Langston in town before?”
Severly pulled his eyes from Miss Langston to give Lady Jersey a very out-of-character sheepish look.
“Naturally, I’ve been protective of Miss Langston. Having watched her grow from a sweet girl to a beautiful young woman, I was not eager to see her pursued by every buck in town, so I have always discouraged the idea of a London Season.”
Turning his eyes back to Celia, the duke continued with this unprecedented speech. “But Celia … er … Miss Langston, like most young ladies, would not hear of settling down until she had her trip to London. I am sure you understand this desire,” he finished, giving Lady Jersey one of his rare and charming smiles.
Nonplussed at these unexpected revelations, Lady Jersey, for once, was speechless. The high and mighty Duke of Severly had practically declared his intentions toward the mysterious Miss Langston, and it appeared, at least according to the duke, that Miss Langston was not in any hurry to bring him to scratch.
Before the avidly curious Lady Jersey could ask another question, Severly begged her pardon, gave the lady a courtly bow, and sauntered across the hall to gain a closer vantage point of Miss Langston.
Within half an hour, Severly felt the tide turning. Many of the people who had been watching Celia began to turn speculative eyes toward Lady Kendall.
Everyone knew the countess and Severly had been having an affair. Could Letty, in a jealous fit, have started the rumors to discredit Miss Langston? A new speculation grew.
During the orchestra’s intermission, Severly approached Celia, who was standing near the refreshments table with Imy. It did not matter if she accepted or declined his request for a dance; either way, it fit into his plan to discredit the rumor circulating the room. Celia’s guarded eyes met his in a question.
“May I have the honor of the next waltz, Miss Langston?” His tone was deeply gentle.
For an instant, Celia found herself about to say yes. “I’m sorry, your grace, I am quite fatigued,” Celia said with dignity, moving to his sister’s side.
It spread like wildfire through the assemblage that Miss Langston had actually declined to dance with the Duke of Severly.
No one could recall that ever happening.
“A mere lady’s companion could not be so confident,” opined Lady Jersey to Princess Esterhazy, after recounting her conversation with the duke. “Lady Kendall must know that she is losing her thrall over the duke.”
Lady Cowper nodded her agreement. “Out of jealousy she obviously spread this vicious gossip. Why, Westlake has known Miss Langston for years. He would not dance attendance on a mere servant.”
Desperately wondering how her plan had gone wrong, Letty cast about for a way to save her dignity. Placing herself in the duke’s path proved futile. He never asked her to dance. Soon, she became so discomfited with the attention she was receiving, she angrily called for her carriage.
In her distress, Celia was unaware of the changes in the demeanor of the other guests. She had no idea how she was going to get through the remainder of the evening. To her mortification, she had somehow been found out, and she just wanted to leave. The minutes creaked along with agonizing slowness. With each passing moment her distress grew.
Even people Celia had never met were approaching, just to give her the cut direct.
Unbeknownst to her, Celia’s inner anxiety showed outwardly as icy calm, impressing a number of the ton, even as they savored the delicious gossip.
When Chandley returned her to Imogene after dancing a minuet, Celia turned to her friend and said in a tightly controlled voice, “If it’s convenient, Imy, I would like to leave.”
“Of course, we may go now.” Imy frowned in concern over Celia’s pale face.
The ride home was silent, for Imogene truly did not know what to say to her friend.
Upon arriving at Severly House, Celia quickly ascended the staircase and gained her room. Dismissing Dora as soon as she helped her disrobe, Celia sat at her dressing table, feeling strangely emotionless. The tears that had been threatening to fall for the last two hours had somehow dried up, and she was left with the crystal-clear knowledge that she was in love w
ith the duke.
She also knew that she could not stand another day in London.
Chapter Sixteen
The road had gotten quite rough over the last few miles. Celia had been bounced from one side of her new coach to the other until she felt sore to her bones.
Looking out the small window, Celia frowned at the heavy, dark day. It had rained, off and on, since the carriage had taken her from Severly House early that morning. At least the countryside was now looking more familiar. She should be at Harford Abbey, her new home, in an hour or so. She wondered why this information gave her no satisfaction. Feeling the tears well up once again, she searched for her crumpled hankie.
“You must stop this silliness,” she admonished herself after wiping her watery eyes.
Feeling sorry for herself was useless. She must face the facts as they were, and go on.
Taking a deep breath, Celia knew the time had come to be honest. She loved the duke. There. She had faced it and she had not dissolved. So she had made a fool of herself at Chandley’s picnic and later in the foyer. Wishing differently could not change what had transpired. With a great sigh, she stared out the window at the waterlogged countryside, forcing her thoughts to more painful subjects.
Everyone in the ton knew she was not a lady. Everyone in the ton knew she had tried to pass herself off as something she wasn’t. This could not be changed either. “So far, so good,” she told herself, straightening her shoulders against the soft leather squabs. She was facing the facts. They would not destroy her. She forced her weary heart to look at the most difficult fact of all.
Severly loved Lady Kendall.
Celia’s shoulders sagged. She buried her face in her hands. No matter how hard she tried to face this, it pierced her heart sharply. She loved him so much it was inconceivable that he did not love her in return.
But he did not, and she was not a child who would die from a broken heart.
Celia recalled the events of earlier in the day. Her leavetaking had been awkward, and she had almost weakened at Imy’s pleadings.
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