Page 54 of The Duke
When she is in possession of a certain kind of letter, Kate thought.When she is the furthest thing from innocent.
“It seems to me you’ve taken the first likely fellow, and all but promised him Miss Genet’s hand! Lord Burnley is ugly, and his father’s a bore. She can do much better.” Lord Seaton made this pronouncement with all the confidence of a woman whose word was law in the matter of society marriages.
“I like Lord Burnley,” Celine interrupted serenely. “I intend to accept him.”
I like her, Celine had said of Royce. Celine’s loyalties were steadfast. Unshakeable. What would it feel like to have that loyalty herself, Kate wondered. To be its main object? An acquisitive rush of blood to her stomach made her momentarily dizzy.
“Miss Genet,” Lord Seaton went on more loudly, ignoring what she obviously found to be a preposterous statement, “have you heard mention of my ball, the Ten Thousand Lights, sometimes called the Decem Milia Luminum, or, more crudely, the Demi Lux? It closes Easter recess every year and is the event of the season, without exception.”
Kate hadn’t bothered mentioning it, as she never received an invitation.
“Naturally I have heard of it,” Celine said. “The debutantes speak of nothing but what they will wear, and complain terribly of their prudish mamas.”
Lord Seaton looked pleased and said decisively, “This year, the Ten Thousand Lights shall be held in your honour. It will be your formal debut.”
More colour flooded into Celine’s face, and she seemed at a loss for words. Kate wondered if Celine was trying to find a way to tell Lord Seaton she would rather be married before then—the Demi Lux was still five weeks away—or whether Lord Seaton’s patronage and the chance to debut at the event of the season had made her waver.
Seeing Celine’s confusion, Lord Seaton’s face softened with real affection. It was extraordinary how thoroughly Celine had won her over. Kate put a name to what she was feeling and scowled down into her tea.
Envy.
She was envious of Lord Seaton, who was offering Celine friendship, offering a broader set of options than blackmail. It was only now, when the hold Celine had over Kate was loosening by a breath, that she realised it had also beenherhold overCeline.
There had been something obscenely intimate about Celine having in her possession the powerful, frightening events of Kate’s childhood and holding them like a knife at Kate’s throat. And Kate, on the other end of the knife, providing Celine’s only access to the world, her single chance at a future.
At long last, the tea ended. Celine helped Lord Seaton into her cloak and admonished Lord Seaton not to catch a cold out this late at her advanced age—“Awful girl,” Lord Seaton laughed—then coddled her until Kate started to imagine simply opening the sash window and dropping Lord Seaton out of it.
Down on the street, Kate cut short the gushing farewells between Lord Seaton and Celine by getting leverage on the old woman’s hand and the small of her back and hoisting her up into her closed barouche.
Lord Seaton leaned forward out of the door and hissed, “I see what you’re thinking, you awful degenerate. I hate to leave her in your clutch—”
Kate shut the door in her face, then handed Celine up into her own carriage. She followed it home on her horse, riding near enough to speak, but not speaking.
Mr. Hill met them at the door to take their things. Celine seemed not entirely aware of where she was and wandered into the green parlour in something of a daze. Kate followed her in and closed the door, and in three strides, she held Celine’s face in her hands and bent to kiss her.
She would die if she didn’t kiss her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Celine’s mind was whirling. Everything had changed in the space of a single evening.Everything.She had been at war with the world for so long, fighting for the chance—just the chance—to live a good life. She had won herself dangerous, difficult advantages and taken risks that might have killed her. But now… now she had options. More than just blackmail or destitution.
She hadn’t even started to sort through all the implications. She felt like her thoughts were about to spill over.
She hadn’t even—
—The duke was about to kiss her.
The duke was about to kiss her.
Without a second to think, she raised her hand before her mouth, palm out, knuckles pressed into her own lips. It brought the duke up short, half a breath away.
The duke held Celine’s face between her hands, her long fingers up behind Celine’s ears, plunged into her tightly wound hair. They were closed in together, and the duke looked right into her eyes—a feral, otherworldly creature, denied what it wanted.
Celine panted short, hard breaths into the back of her hand.
Her heart scrabbled at her chest, drowning, drowning.
The duke shook her head as though to clear it. But she couldn’t. Celine saw everything in those brilliant eyes. She saw desire unwind the duke’s every thought, slow and heavy. And saw the moment it obliterated her, just before the duke’s eyes slid shut.
