A Rake’s Guide to Seduction (5 page)

Spring 1823

Celia, Lady Bertram rested her cheek against the side of the carriage and watched through the window. It had been so long since she left London, she had forgotten how busy it was. The carriage passed through streets filled with other carriages, gentlemen on horseback, people on foot, and street vendors. It was loud and noxious after the secluded quiet of Kenlington Abbey, and so foreign she could hardly believe she had once lived here.

Her mother, who had dozed off some time ago, woke up as the wheels clattered loudly over the city streets. “Goodness, we must be nearly home!” She smothered a yawn behind her handkerchief. “Are you feeling ill, Celia?”

Celia sat upright again. “No, Mama.”

Her mother beamed. “It is so good to have you back, dearest. I missed you so, these four years. You shall be shocked at how things at Exeter House have changed. Two young boys have a way of upending a household! And of course David and Vivian will be in town this fortnight as well. Oh, my dear, we have all missed you so…” She talked on, detailing everything that had happened since Celia left the city four years ago. Celia quit listening. She had been listening to her mother since they left Kenlington Abbey, over a week ago. Celia didn’t realize how accustomed she had become to quiet until she had to listen to her mother talk for eight days.

When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Exeter House, the footman let down the steps and Mama stepped down first. Celia climbed down herself, looking up at the house and waiting for the familiar surge of delight. Exeter House had always meant excitement to her. Coming to town had been like setting off on a grand adventure. She let her head fall back, taking in the full effect of the mansion’s grandeur, and felt…nothing. No thrill of anticipation, no sense of coming home; it was like someplace she had visited a long time ago, just for a while. Perhaps she should have suggested to Mama that they visit Ainsley Park instead of London. Perhaps at Ainsley she would truly feel at home again, and not like an outsider who was trying to go where she no longer fit.

She followed her mother inside, past the curtsying servants. The hall looked the same, and yet different. The walls that had been white were now a soft yellow. There were lilies on the table near the door. Celia pulled loose the ribbons on her bonnet, feeling oddly like an intruder.

“Oh, you’ve arrived!” Hannah, the duchess of Exeter, emerged from the back of the hall and hurried forward. She embraced Celia quickly, then drew back to study her. “It is so good to see you again,” she said warmly. “I hope the journey was not too difficult.”

“No, no, we had good weather all the way,” said Rosalind. She had already removed her traveling cloak and bonnet and now came over to greet Hannah. “How was all in our absence?”

Hannah laughed. “Impatient! All we heard was, ‘Have they come yet? When shall Grandmama and Aunt Celia return? Will it be today?’” She shook her head. “They are incorrigible, all three of them.”

“All three?” Celia let the footman take away her cloak. An instant later she was sorry, realizing how grim she looked in her dusty, wrinkled black dress.

“Yes, Molly has told Thomas and Edward all about you,” said Hannah with a smile. “They are wild to meet you.” Her sharp blue eyes roved over Celia’s face, but her expression didn’t alter. Celia supposed she must look different to Hannah, just as Hannah looked different to her—her sister-in-law’s dark hair was smoother than Celia remembered, no longer loose black curls, and there were fine lines around her eyes that Celia didn’t remember. But Hannah had been in London with Marcus; she had had two children. Things had happened to her in the past four years.

Celia mustered a smile. “And I long to meet them. Mama has written quite a lot about them.”

Hannah cast her eyes upward and laughed ruefully. “There is quite a lot to tell! You never saw two such scamps.”

“I can hardly wait,” said Celia softly.

“But first you must settle in after your journey.” Hannah turned, beckoning the butler forward. “Harper, arrange for tea in an hour, please.” He bowed and hurried off. “I’ve had your rooms prepared. No doubt you’re tired and would like to rest.”

Celia nodded, not so much because she was truly tired but because she found she needed a bit of time alone. The irony was sharp; how desperately had she longed for friends and family all those months at Kenlington, and now she felt a desire just as desperate to get away from them the moment she arrived in London. She needed some time to readjust to this house, to London, like a sailor back on land after months at sea. She followed Hannah and her mother up the stairs in silence, not knowing anyone or anything they were talking about.

Down the hallway they walked to the room that had been Celia’s since she was a child. Hannah stopped at the door. “I shan’t intrude on you right now. The children will be wild to know you’ve arrived, and I did promise to tell Molly the instant you were here. Oh, Celia, I’m so happy to see you again.” And Hannah hugged her again.

Celia found a small smile on her face at the mention of Molly. “And I cannot wait to see Molly again. Shall she join us for tea?”

“I will invite her now,” said Hannah with a laugh.

“Do you need anything, my dear?” asked her mother fondly. Celia shook her head.

“No, Mama. A little rest will do.”

Rosalind squeezed her hand. “Then we shall leave you to it.”

They went off down the hall together. Celia watched them a moment, then let herself into her room.

It was like stepping back in time. Everything was just as she remembered it. Hannah must have closed the room and never opened it. Celia walked into the center of the room, looking around in mild astonishment. The last time she had been in this room, she had been a new bride. Memories stirred at the edges of her mind. Her wedding dress had been hung there on a dressmaker’s form so it would not wrinkle. For some reason Celia remembered her maid saying it had taken three hours to press it, and they didn’t dare lay it flat even for a night. That had been the evening before her wedding. She hadn’t gone to sleep until very late, so excited she could hardly stay in bed.

She walked over to the window and looked out. The gardens lay below, lush and colorful. Far more colorful than the Kenlington gardens; practicality had reigned there, for many plants couldn’t survive the harsher northern winter.

Celia turned away from the window and sat at her dressing table. The plants weren’t the only thing that had not survived well in Cumberland. Her reflection caught her eye. She leaned closer and studied herself.

She looked older, for certain. She had seen herself many times in this mirror, and for an instant, she almost expected to see the same pink-cheeked, smiling girl of old. Instead she saw a pale, thin face, blond hair scraped back into a subdued knot. Her blue eyes were somber, and there was no pink in her cheeks. The black of her mourning gown only made her look paler, more devoid of color. Her eyelids fluttered closed and for a moment memory intruded again; Bertie’s handsome face smiling over her shoulder into this very mirror. His arms around her. His breath on her neck as he whispered words of love. Those words seem to echo mockingly inside the hollowness within her. She opened her eyes.

Bertie was not there behind her in the mirror. The charming boy she had married was gone, every bit as dead as the indifferent, distant husband he had become. Only she was left, and she wondered just how much of her he had taken to the grave with him.

Sluggishly she got to her feet. She supposed she was tired, and hungry, and all those things one ought to be after a long journey. But lying down held no appeal, and being alone had not brought her any peace, not even in the room that had once been her haven. She opened the door and left.

In the corridor she met Hannah again. “Oh,” said her sister-in-law in surprise. “You’re not tired?”

Celia gave a wan smile. “Not much. I’ve been away too long to want to sleep the day away.”

“Of course.” Hannah smiled, not asking anything further. Celia wondered what her mother had told Hannah. “I was just going up to see the children. Would you like to come with me?”

“Yes, thank you.” She had never seen Hannah and Marcus’s two young sons. “I hear the boys are quite a handful.”

Hannah sighed and shook her head. “That they are. The baby of course is just a baby, but Thomas…oh my, Thomas. He keeps us all running from morning ’til night.” She led the way upstairs to the nursery, which was now open and bright.

A little boy with wavy dark hair sat at a small table, arranging tin soldiers. At their entrance, he looked up, blue eyes brightening. “Mama!” he cried, leaping from his chair and running into Hannah’s arms.

“Thomas,” she cried back, scooping him up. “I have brought someone to meet you.” She turned toward Celia. “Your aunt, Lady Bertram, has arrived.”

The little boy pressed his cheek to Hannah’s shoulder, studying Celia from the shelter of his mother’s arms. He was sturdy and round, with bright, curious eyes. Celia stepped forward and made a slight curtsy. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, sir,” she said to him. “But you must call me Aunt Celia, instead of Lady Bertram.”

“Ceelee,” he whispered, then hid his face in Hannah’s arm. Hannah laughed, and Celia smiled. She supposed she properly ought to call him Tavistock, as Marcus’s heir, but it seemed absurd to call a three-year-old child by his courtesy title.

“Might I meet your brother?” she asked him. Without looking up, Thomas nodded, and Hannah led her into the next room. In a cradle near the window, a baby with a round face and wispy curls slept, his tiny fingers wrapped around a wooden duck.

“He adores the duck,” whispered Hannah, juggling her older son into a different position. “He cannot go to sleep without it.”

Celia’s mouth curved; she remembered choosing that duck for her new nephew before he was even born, from a man who lived in Keswick and carved startlingly realistic animals. That had been a week before Bertie took ill. Her smile faded, and she sighed silently. “He’s a handsome child,” she said in a low voice. A handsome child like she had never had.

“Thank you,” Hannah replied, her voice filled with affectionate pride. “But we should go see Molly.” She returned Thomas to his table, soothed his protests at being left behind, and they left him with his nursemaid, who had been waiting quietly in the corner.

Molly was in the schoolroom, where Celia vaguely recalled learning her own sums and letters. Celia remembered Molly very well, a darling child who loved to dig in the dirt and catch bugs and fish. She was brought up short by the girl who looked up when they entered the schoolroom.

“Aunt Celia!” The girl got to her feet and bobbed a brief curtsy. “How lovely to see you again!”

“And you, Molly,” said Celia warmly. “Although I can scarce recognize you. You’ve grown so tall.”

Molly grinned. She was tall, or seemed so to Celia, and her hair was no longer a tangle of long blond curls but a darker honey color, and neatly combed. Her face had lengthened and taken on sharper contours, making her look more like her mother. Her hands were just as dirty as Celia remembered, though.

Molly must have realized it as well, for she blushed and put them behind her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was working on my drawing.”

“May I see?”

Molly nodded, and Celia moved forward to look. A tulip, sliced neatly in half, lay on the table. A half-finished drawing of the plant was next to it; Molly had carefully sketched the insides of the plant and labeled them. “It’s quite good,” she said.

“Thank you.” Molly crossed the room and brought back a portfolio. “Here are the rest of them. Mr. Griggs has undertaken to teach me about all the plants in the gardens.”

Celia’s eyebrows went up as she turned page after page of drawings. “They’re lovely,” she said, amazed more at the dedication and effort than at the technical skill. She would not have had such patience, or interest, when she was only nine years old.

The girl beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Celia put down the book. “Please call me Aunt Celia, like you used to do.”

Molly’s face grew even brighter. “Gladly, Aunt Celia.”

“It’s time for Miss Preston’s riding lesson, Your Grace,” said a young woman then, who must have been the governess.

Hannah looked at Molly. “You may join us for tea after your lesson, if you wish.”

“Yes, thank you.” Molly grinned once more at Celia. “I shall see you then.”

“Yes.” Celia smiled and followed Hannah from the room as Molly went to change into her riding clothes. “She’s grown so tall,” she said again.

Hannah looked amused. “Hasn’t she? She has also become an expert on everything. No question arises but that Molly has the answer—and she is quick to tell us so. Your mother says she has picked up a great deal of Marcus’s manner, which I doubt is a good thing in a girl of her age.”

“Where is Marcus? Will he be here?” For some reason Celia was hesitant to see her brother; she had a vague sense of foreboding. Marcus, after all, had been persuaded against his better judgment to give Bertie permission to marry her. She knew he wouldn’t speak of it, but she knew he would remember.

“He should return soon. I’ve sent around to Vivian, inviting her and David to dine here this evening, if that won’t be too tiring for you.”

“No,” Celia assured her. Perhaps being surrounded by her family again would revive her spirits and make her feel at ease again.

It did not.

David greeted her with a hug that pulled her off her feet. Vivian, whom Celia remembered as wary and reserved, had clearly fit into the family more, although she was still formal with Rosalind. Waists had dropped, and Vivian’s gown displayed her rounding belly, proof that she would have a child in a few months. Marcus returned and greeted her almost as warmly as David had, but Celia feared his sharper eyes saw what David overlooked. As expected, though, he said nothing of it.

“To Celia,” proclaimed David at dinner, raising his wine glass. “It’s dashed good to have you in London again.” Everyone raised their glasses and echoed his toast. Celia smiled uncomfortably.