“Henry hasn’t told you, then?”

“Told me what?”

“His house in London is not as much his as it is his family’s.” Edward sighed deeply. “That house, you see, along with my residence in London, as well as nearly everything else, will have to go. However—” his tone brightened “—we should be able to keep Danby Manor. For a while anyway. So good news, there.”

“That is...good.”

The chair groaned as Edward obviously got to his feet.

“I do hope I haven’t upset you but I thought it best if everything was out in the open.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want any unexpected surprises after the wedding day.”

“No, of course not...”

“Fortunately, as you and Henry are a love match, our reduced financial circumstances will be nothing more than a bump in the road of your life together.”

“A bump in the road,” Katherine echoed then cleared her throat. “I believe our guests will be arriving shortly, so if that is all...” Her skirts rustled.

“I can’t think of anything else. I must say, I’m glad you’ve taken this so well. Not everyone would, you know. And I can’t tell you how delighted I am that my dear brother will have someone like you by his side throughout the difficult times ahead. For the rest of your days. Until you both breathe your last.”

Goodness, that was a bit much. But Edward was right. This was fun.

“Perhaps you should retire until the guests arrive, Katherine. You’re looking a bit pale.”

“I believe I shall.”

Gwen heard the library door open and close.

“You can come out now.”

Gwen pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Edward stood by an open cabinet, disguised in the same manner as the door to his office, pouring two glasses of what looked like good Scottish whisky.

“A splendid performance, Edward, simply splendid.” Gwen crossed the room and accepted a glass. “I’m assuming it was all an act.”

“I assure you, Gwen, our finances are as sound as the Bank of England itself.” He grinned. “I was good, wasn’t I?”

“You were indeed. As was your butler.” Gwen sipped her whisky and savored the intensity of the drink. It was an excellent quality. “Did you tell him what this was about?”

“I did need his cooperation and I do trust Jervis implicitly. Besides, as it turns out, Katherine has not endeared herself to the staff.”

“Imagine my surprise.” Gwen grinned. “My congratulations, Edward. Why, I almost believed you myself.”

“That’s good to know and I do thank you. But the more important question is—” he raised his glass “—did she?”


CHAPTER ELEVEN


IT WASN’T AS if this was her first ball. Celia had been to any number of balls before. Specifically, four such social events, which probably did not qualify as “any number.” One was even in London, although admittedly the rest were country affairs, as was the ball tonight. But this was given by an earl. Certainly Father was a viscount but there was a vast difference between a nearly impoverished viscount and a wealthy earl. In this ballroom, liveried footmen carried trays of champagne, and a constantly replenished refreshment table offered bowls of fresh berries and platters of cakes and all manner of sweets and savories. And it did seem most of the people here were Lord So-and-So and Lady Such-and-Such and Sir Whateverhisnamewas. It was a most imposing gathering.

Aunt Guinevere, Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore knew a startling number of people and were apparently quite well connected. Between introductions from the ladies and those made by Edward, Celia must have met nearly everyone at the gathering.

Still, it was not as enjoyable as it might have been under other circumstances. The underlying purpose of the evening, after all, was to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Henry and Katherine.

And then there were the rumors Celia overheard in passing. The offhand remarks she caught all evening about Henry and Edward’s financial problems. She wondered if this was part of her aunt’s plan to stop the wedding but when Celia mentioned it, Aunt Guinevere said she had more pressing matters to attend to than gossip. Which did seem to indicate Aunt Guinevere had something else in mind and the talk might well be true. Poor Edward. He really did need a nice, rich heiress. Perhaps Aunt Guinevere and her friends could find him one.

Celia’s dance card had been given to her already filled with eligible men, as was Louise’s. As the bride, Katherine’s card was filled as well, mostly with older gentlemen, friends of Henry’s family and the like. Katherine did not look pleased. Indeed, she appeared less and less the blushing bride and more and more vexed as the night wore on. Perhaps she, too, was hearing the rumors. Regardless, she kept a perfect smile plastered on her face. No one who did not know her well would have suspected she was anything but blissfully happy.

“I believe this is my dance,” Henry said behind her.

Celia braced herself. She had noted Henry’s name on her dance card and had protested to Aunt Guinevere. In spite of agreeing to one dance with him, upon further consideration, she thought it would be best not to tempt fate. It was increasingly difficult to spend any time with him at all without wanting more. But her aunt had said it would be extremely odd if the bride’s sisters did not share a dance with the groom. Still, it did not strike Celia as a wise idea, although it did seem there was no choice. She adopted a polite expression and turned toward him.

Her smile faltered at the intense look in his eyes.

Henry nodded a bow. “You look lovely tonight, Celia.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Pleasure coursed through her. The pale blue gown—flounced satin with lace-trimmed bodice and short, puffed sleeves that revealed her shoulders—was her very best and she did look well in it. Still, it was lovely to hear. Especially from him.

“I was afraid you intended to avoid me.” He offered his arm.

She laid her hand lightly on his sleeve—steeling herself to the feel of his arm beneath her touch—and accompanied him onto the dance floor. “I did, but my aunt pointed out how curious it would appear if I did not share a dance with the man who will soon be my brother-in-law. I assume you are dancing with Louise, as well.”

“I already have. It was quite...enlightening.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently Louise is somewhat concerned as to my finances.” He took her right hand in his left; his other hand rested on the small of her back. A shiver ran through her. She swallowed hard and carefully placed her left hand on his shoulder.

“Should she be?” she said absently, amazed that she could manage to say anything at all.

“No.” Irritation sounded in his voice. “She mentioned hearing some sort of rumor.”

There was something so horribly right about being in his embrace. As if she were made to fit perfectly against him. As if his arms should always be around her. She wondered that she didn’t swoon at the feel of his body close to hers. Her heart fluttered hard in her chest.

“Have you heard anything?”

“What?” She stared up at him. “I am sorry. I’m obviously somewhat distracted and...well...”

“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” His expression softened. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. I daresay it’s probably of no real significance.”

“Goodness, Henry.” She forced a lighthearted note into her voice. “If we are to have only one dance together, I should hate to ruin it with talk of gossip.”

“You’re right of course.”

The music started and he gathered her a bit closer. Not so close as to violate the bounds of propriety but close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. See the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, smell the faint spicy scent of him. She’d never quite realized how terribly personal the simple act of sharing a waltz really was. This might be why it was once considered quite scandalous. Understandable, really, although the intimacy of it might well depend on with whom you were sharing that waltz.

Perhaps it was the strain of all that stretched between them, the weight of everything they would never say to each other. Everything they would never do. Perhaps it was the acknowledgment that this dance would be their first and their last. Or perhaps he was as afraid as she to say anything at all, afraid of what either of them might confess in an unguarded moment, but they danced together in silence. Silence heavy and fraught with longing and resignation. Apparently, if they weren’t going to talk about gossip or financial problems, they weren’t going to talk about anything at all.

“I am not an especially proficient dancer,” Henry said finally.

“I think you’re doing quite well.”

“Edward is much better. You should dance with him.”

“I believe his name is on my dance card,” she said and again silence fell between them. This was far worse than anything she could have imagined. And it was absurd.

“I really don’t think—” she began.

“This wasn’t at all—” he said at the same time.

Her gaze locked with his and for a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes. At last he grinned and she laughed.

“The last thing I expected was that this would be awkward.” Henry shook his head.

“As did I.” She paused. “Dare I ask what you did expect?”

“I don’t know, really. Perhaps I thought...” He sighed. “I thought if I danced with you once, it would be enough to sustain me. I would not have the need to dance with you again. Or hold you again in my arms or—”

“Henry.” She kept her voice light but her tone was firm. “This discussion does neither of us any good.” Still... “And were you right?”

“Apparently not.”

“Which only adds to the awkwardness,” she murmured. For the briefest of moments, the thought flashed through her mind that perhaps Aunt Guinevere was right. Perhaps the sanctity of one’s word could be sacrificed for the happiness of one’s future. But it did seem to Celia that was a decision one had to make for oneself, no matter how much someone else longed to do so. She drew a steadying breath. “Come now, Henry, we are made of sterner stuff than to moan about those things that cannot be changed. We have accepted our fate and that is the end of it.”