Stenfax shifted and a great exhaustion crossed his face. Gray frowned at the sight of it. His brother looked not just annoyed, but truly troubled.
“Lucien—” he began.
His brother lifted a hand to stop him. “Enough. You want me to look at evidence you collect, I will. But I make you no promises. You need to stop this foolishness, Grayson. Before you do something that cannot be undone.”
He said nothing else, but strode from the room. Gray watched him go and sighed. “Lucien, that’s exactly the mistake I’m trying to keep you from making.”
Rosalinde took a long breath and forced her gaze away from Gray’s. He sat at the opposite end of the table from her, next to his mother and sister. Of course, he had been stealing glances her way all through supper, but that was no reason to ogle him.
Especially since each time she did so, she saw Celia stiffen slightly up the table. Her sister had hardly spoken to her since her revelation of their affair earlier in the day, but Rosalinde could tell she was deeply troubled.
She forced her attention to the man at her side. Lord Stenfax had been an extremely quiet companion for nearly an hour. Even now he had a faraway expression, like he was lost in thought.
Rosalinde observed him while he was distracted. He was a well-favored man. Not as hard as Gray, nor as intense, but with handsome features. There was a slight sadness around his eyes and in the downward turn on his lips. She could well see why he had been considered such a catch, despite his family’s financial issues.
And yet he and Celia seemed to have no connection whatsoever. Her beauty moved him not, nor his her. That seemed wrong, even though it was exactly as they had planned.
“My lord?” she said.
He jerked his head, almost as if he were coming awake from a daydream. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilde. How uncommonly rude of me.”
She smiled in reassurance. “No need to be sorry. The entire table seems a bit out of sorts. I suppose one can expect it with all the excitement about to come.”
“Yes. Tomorrow the guests who will be staying at my home will arrive. Friends and family, all.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry no one from Celia’s family will be part of our day.”
Rosalinde shifted slightly. “Well, with our mother gone, I suppose our family is small in comparison.”
His lips thinned a little. “And what of your father’s side of the aisle? You have no one remaining from his family?”
She shot a quick glance at Gray. There was something in Stenfax’s tone that made her wonder if Gray had spoken to him about her father. She swallowed and carefully considered her words before she spoke again.
“We know little of his family, I fear. As you know, we were raised as Fitzgilberts after the death of my parents. So it is a cozy group of two who will stand for my sister. That and the friends who come, though I believe all of Celia’s friends will be staying at the inn in the village.”
He nodded, but she watched as his gaze slid to Celia slowly. He seemed to be seeing her for the first time, yet she couldn’t read his expression. He was good at hiding. It worried her.
Oh, he was a gentleman. Of course he was. But what was this man like in private? What were his passions? What were his feelings at all about Celia? Was he truly only mercenary? Would he have a gaggle of mistresses the moment the I dos were spoken?
Rosalinde hated having these questions. Worse, she hated having no answers. Damn Gray.
“Have I offended you?” Stenfax asked. “You are frowning rather intently.”
She forced a light laugh. “Oh, gracious, no. Just thinking that soon my sister will be a married lady. I hope I will be able to see her often.”
Stenfax’s expression softened slightly. “I would never keep my wife from her family. You will always be welcome in our home here or London, as I know how close you are. You are like me with my own siblings.”
Rosalinde caught her breath. She’d always viewed Stenfax as a rather cold and distant man. Always polite, but never emotional. And yet here was a softness to his expression she’d never seen before. A warmth that was never spared for Celia, but could be conjured for his brother and sister. That meant he could feel.
He just didn’t feel for Celia. And not she for him, when Rosalinde knew she was capable of so much more. Anxiety hit her stomach, forcing her to set her fork aside as the wave of it made her sick.
“I appreciate those kind words,” she managed when it became clear he was awaiting her response. She took a deep breath and let her gaze slide to Celia again. Her sister was talking to their grandfather and did not look happy.
And behind her was Gray, always in Rosalinde’s sightline. Always confusing already complicated issues.
“You and your brother do seem especially close, despite his living so far away. That must be difficult.”
“I do miss seeing him more regularly.” Stenfax shrugged. “But I am proud of what Gray has accomplished. He’s an entirely self-made man.”
“I’ve heard as much,” Rosalinde said. “How exactly has he made himself?”
“A variety of industries. He’s been investing in the canals since our father died. But his true love is mechanization of all kinds. You should hear him ramble on about increased productivity and safety when it comes to machines in various workplaces.”
Rosalinde nodded. It was easy to see how a mind like Gray’s would be fascinated by the intricacies of a machine. “I’ve heard told steam is the future, though,” she said.
Stenfax laughed, and it felt like every eye at the table shifted to them. The rest swiftly returned to whatever had their attention initially, but Rosalinde felt Gray’s gaze linger.
“You and my brother are of a mind,” Stenfax said. “He claims the steam engine which pulled that train to Wales six years ago will one day take over travel all over the world. It will either bankrupt him or make him unfathomably rich. It’s his own form of gambling, I believe.”
“But more informed gambling,” Rosalinde suggested, feeling an odd desire to stand up for Gray.
Stenfax nodded. “Exactly. Now I know some people turn their noses up at such things, but I admire how hard he’s worked.”
Rosalinde shifted. She had spent her life with a man who tried to claw his way up via pretended connection. A man who would trade relationships to get what he wanted.
Gray was the polar opposite. And in that moment she wanted more than anything to reach out and touch him. To burrow into his fascinating world and find out more about steam engines and canals and how he planned to build a road all the way to a sparkling future.
Before Rosalinde could respond, Mr. Fitzgilbert asked Stenfax a question and the earl’s attention was drawn away from her. She supposed it was for the best. If she’d been allowed to praise Gray, she feared her growing feelings for the man would have been evident to all at the table.
And those were feelings she could not share. Not with him. Not with anyone. They were bound to be enemies. And even when their war was over, that didn’t mean they had leave to even be friends. She would be pulled from the warmth of his life, back to the chilly existence her grandfather allowed.
It was better not to grow accustomed to Gray’s fire. Or to even so much as imagine she could find a permanent place in his arms, in his world, or in his life.
Chapter Fourteen
Gray stepped into the parlor, his brow wrinkled as he scanned the room. The previous night he’d been roaming the halls, unable to sleep when he was plagued by thoughts of Rosalinde. He had secretly hoped to find her and perhaps purge his building desire once more. Instead, in his distraction he’d lost track of the book he’d carried with him through the dark.
“Are you looking for this?”
He turned to find Celia seated in a chair beside the fire. She was holding up a slim volume, the very one he sought.
“Indeed, I am,” he said, hearing the harshness that always seemed to accompany a conversation with this woman. He’d f
ound the best way around his contempt for her was to avoid her. “Thank you.”
He slipped the book free from her fingers and bowed slightly.
“You needn’t go,” she said, stopping him before he could exit with any semblance of grace or politeness. “Won’t you join me?”
He barely held back a curse. Well, there was no avoiding this now. He would have to sit with her. Talk to her.
“Of course,” he managed through clenched teeth, and took the place across from her.
“Tea?” she asked, motioning to the pot on the table beside her.
He shook his head. “No, thank you.”
A slight smile turned up her lips, a secret one like she’d thought of something amusing that she did not share. “All right, then it is straight to business, yes?”
Gray blinked in confusion. “Business? Do we have business, Miss Fitzgilbert?”
She tilted her head slightly. “Come now, of course we do. I have long been wanting to speak to you alone, Mr. Danford.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, trying not to react to this unexpected development. “So you are to be direct.”
“You may not believe this—in fact, I suspect you will not—but I try as often as I can to be honest and direct in all things.” She lifted her brows, as if waiting for him to deny what she said could be true.
“I don’t think I know you well enough to call you a liar,” he said, refusing to allow her the satisfaction she sought.
If he had expected her to scowl or whine at his attitude, she didn’t. Instead, she laughed. He’d never heard her laugh before. Celia was almost always somber around his brother or the family. Now he found the sound was actually pretty, though certainly not as moving as when her sister did the same.
“We both know that you believe me to be a liar,” Celia finally said. “There is no use pretending something else.”
He pursed his lips. “And did you want to talk to me in order to convince me otherwise?”
She shook her head at once. “Heavens, no. That would very likely be an exercise in futility, for once you believed me a liar, my denying the same would be fruitless. I can only hope that my actions will eventually speak for themselves and that at some point you will come to at least accept me.”
“And at most?”
“It might be too much to hope that one day you would like me.” The laughter left her voice, and she sighed. “But that is truly not what I wish to discuss with you.”
“No, so you said,” he drawled, watching her face carefully. “Which leaves me to wonder what other topic you and I could possibly discuss, given all you’ve said.”
“I want to talk to you about Rosalinde,” she said, this time her voice soft yet firm.
Tension coursed through his body. He knew Celia was aware of what had gone on between Rosalinde and him. He supposed he should have been ready for such a confrontation. Of course, he had no idea of Celia’s motives when it came to this. She could be hoping to use the indiscretion to keep him from pursuing his campaign to prevent her marriage from taking place.
And if she was, well, that would certainly reveal a great deal about the character she claimed to possess.
So as uncomfortable as the prospect was, Gray nodded slowly. “I suppose it is not out of the ordinary that you would wish to speak to me about your sister. After all, I believe she spoke to you about how…close we have become.”
“She told you that, did she?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
He pursed his lips at the memory. “She was very upset.”
“She would be,” Celia whispered, and her voice broke slightly. “I was harsh when I heard the truth. Did you comfort her, then?”
He wrinkled his brow. “Are you asking if I…if we…”
“No!” Celia’s pale cheeks suddenly flooded with dark pink color. “Good Lord, no! I have no interest in the details of your…your…whatever you would like to call this affair between you. I am only trying to determine what exactly your intentions are. You say you came upon my sister upset and I am asking if you reached out to her.”
“Yes,” he said, thinking of Rosalinde’s confessions in the dark garden the night before. Thinking of the sparkle of tears on her cheeks in the moonlight. Thinking of how she had stepped into his arms and it felt like she belonged there.
“Yes,” he repeated. “I spoke to her and tried to ease her as best I could. To reassure her that she was not nearly so vile as she believed herself to be. Or perhaps what you wanted her to think she was.”
Celia’s lips parted. “Mr. Danford, you may accuse me of a great many things, you may decide that I am mercenary and cold. But please do not make the mistake of believing that I do not love and respect my sister. I have never wanted to hurt her, nor do I think she has ever purposefully hurt me.”
“Then why be angry when you found out she and I had been together?” he asked.
“Beyond the obvious scandal that could be created by your indiscretion? Beyond the fact that you have made it clear that you will go to any and every length to destroy my engagement to Stenfax?” she asked. “My truest concern was for Rosalinde’s well-being.”
“How noble of you,” Gray murmured.
Celia’s eyes flashed, and for a moment he was put to mind of Rosalinde. To his surprise, that made him actually like Celia more.
“You have known my sister for less than a fortnight. I have watched her all my life. I know what a risk she is at when it comes to such things.”
“A risk from me?” he asked, laughing, though he knew her words were true. “How so?”
“Not just from you,” she said. “My sister leads with her heart. She is entirely open, no matter how many times the world punishes her for it. She somehow still believes in the best in others, in a possibility for some kind of bright, happy future. And that makes her remarkable. It also leaves her vulnerable to the pain that will inevitably come when her hopes are dashed.”
Gray hesitated, for Celia had just struck upon exactly what he’d thought of Rosalinde from nearly the moment he’d met her. What he’d thought, but never been able to fully label in his mind. Celia had now summed Rosalinde up five sentences and he would never be able to forget each one.
“Why do you think her hopes will be inevitably dashed?” he asked.
Celia shrugged and looked away from him. “Bitter experience tells me they will. My mother died when I was young, taking my sister and me away from whatever life she had hoped for us and to my grandfather, who is…”
“A bastard,” Gray supplied.
She let her eyes slide to him. “Yes. That is as good a term as any. Any time we wanted anything, it was denied us. Oh, we were given food and shelter, education and opportunity, but never love or affection. We sought that from each other and were denied it any other place we looked. I learned to stop looking. Rosalinde decided to look all the harder.”
“Why is that a negative thing?” Gray asked.
“Because sometimes she found it where it didn’t truly exist,” Celia all but hissed.
Gray stiffened. “You are referring to her marriage.”
Celia’s eyes narrowed, and she couldn’t hide her surprise that he had brought up that delicate subject. “She told you about her marriage?”
“A little,” he admitted through clenched teeth. “Enough.”
She stared at him, silent for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she whispered, “She is more trusting of you than I thought if she would tell you about Martin Wilde.”
“I’m glad she did,” he admitted for the first time out loud. “And I wish I could take away that terrible time in her life.”
Celia’s expression softened slightly. “As do I, more than anything. But it is proof of what I said earlier. Rosalinde was easily swayed by what that man pretended to be, pretended to offer. She grabbed on to the possibility of love so tightly that she refused to see anything else. She suffer
ed greatly for it. And though I think she is wiser for the experience, I also know she remains vulnerable to lies.”
Gray arched a brow. “And you think I am lying to her?”
“I don’t know what you are doing,” Celia admitted. “I don’t know what bond you’ve formed with her, if any at all. I hope you wouldn’t be so cruel as to use her, to hurt her, in order to lash out at me somehow. But I cannot rule that out.”
“And that is what you wished to speak to me about here today,” he said.
She shrugged. “I am not certain that my speaking to you will change anything you plan to do. As I said, I am unaware of a great many things when it comes to you and Rosalinde and how true you are. But I do know one thing: my sister is true. And if you cut her, she will bleed. I love her, Mr. Danford. I love her with all my heart. And I ask that if what you share with her is only about this war you wish to wage with me, that you not allow her to be a casualty. It would be too cruel.”
She got to her feet, and Gray was forced to do the same out of propriety.
“You have said quite a lot,” Gray said, surprised that his voice shook slightly. He cleared his throat and settled himself before he continued, “And I will think about all of it, I assure you.”
“Good,” she said. “And now I must excuse myself to ready for the arrival of the other guests.”
She inclined her head and moved to the door, but there she stopped and faced him once more. “I do understand your position, you know. I too am the younger sibling, yet driven to protect the elder after seeing them go through pain. The impulse is one I respect. I hope you will always protect Stenfax, as I will always protect Rosalinde. And I also hope that perhaps one day you will understand that I am no threat to him. Or to you. Good day.”
She departed before he could respond, and Gray found himself staring at the door for a long time after he had been left alone. He’d spent so much time building Celia up to a monster in his head, he hadn’t allowed any other possibility to shine through. Now her passionate defense of her sister changed his thoughts on her. Whatever else she might be, he believed she truly loved Rosalinde.
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