A Spring Deception (Seasons Book 2) (21 page)

Clairemont stiffened. He’d always been good and hiding his emotions, but before an enemy he’d just revealed himself. A dangerous prospect.

“What can I offer you to give the information now?” he asked.

“Why are you so determined?” Fitzgilbert asked. “You intend to marry her, I assume. You are publicly courting her. Why not just do the deed and let the information come as it may?” He leaned forward. “Unless you have no intention of making her your bride? Did her telling you about her father turn you from your pursuit? Haven’t had the bollocks to tell her you don’t want to make a bastard daughter of a no one into a duchess? Is this your attempt at softening the blow?”

The control Clairemont had been fighting for throughout the meeting now snapped in two. He cocked back his fist and swung, connecting squarely across Fitzgilbert’s cheekbone and sending him staggering to the floor.

“Did I soften the blow enough?” he growled as the older man struggled to get up. “Celia’s history doesn’t mean a goddamned thing to me, Fitzgilbert. But I
will
have the information I seek. How much you benefit from it will be entirely up to you.”

He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, from the house, without looking back. Mostly he left to keep from unleashing the street tough inside him and killing the bastard in his own parlor. But as he swung up on his horse and began to ride, all the bravado, all the anger, melted away.

What it left behind was like acid in his veins.

Celia had confessed her past to him. She had done it because she couldn’t bear to lie to him, to use him to further herself. And yet he was doing exactly the same to her. Worse, in fact. His lies could destroy her in every way. His lies would ultimately break her heart, there was no way around it.

Oh, perhaps he could help her by giving her the information she sought regarding her father, but would that lessen the blow when he was gone—dead, in her eyes? Would it make his life any less empty once he was back to being John Dane or whatever character was next in the long line of false identities that punctuated his War Department career?

He knew it wouldn’t. And it was all because of one fact that had become perfectly clear today: he was in love with Celia Fitzgilbert. Entirely, completely and utterly in love with her. He wanted her in his life forever, to know her in every way and to share with her all of even the darkest parts of himself. He knew by instinct that her light would heal those things.

But she wasn’t in love with
him
. No, she was in love with Clairemont. A man who didn’t exist. A man John Dane would tear away from her in a blinding moment of pain and destruction.

A blinding moment that would kill some part of him just as much as it killed the false Clairemont. And he would never be the same. Not when he lost her at last.

And there was not a damn thing he could do about any of it.

Celia let her fingers dance over the pianoforte keys, but she heard the stumbles in the notes and winced. It was nearly impossible to concentrate lately and her playing suffered. As did her sewing and all other activities she attempted to participate in. Even Felicity had mentioned she was distracted when they shared tea this afternoon.

But now she was alone and happy for it. At least she could pound at the keys and try not to think about the subject of all her fantasies and fears: Aiden.

It had been twenty-four hours since she confessed everything to him about her past. He had sent her flowers that morning with a short note she supposed was meant to comfort her. But it wasn’t one of his longer letters and she knew she wouldn’t likely be comforted entirely until she saw him next.

Until she knew if his acceptance of her confession had been true or just a kindness meant to spare her feelings.

“Which song are you playing?”

Celia jerked her gaze to the door and found Rosalinde standing there, leaning in the doorway, watching her intently.

“What do you mean?” Celia asked, setting her hands in her lap. “I didn’t think I was playing so poorly that the tune was unrecognizable.”

“You weren’t,” Rosalinde said. “It is only that midway through one chorus, you switched to a different song entirely.”

Celia gasped. “I did? Gracious, I didn’t even notice.”

“You wouldn’t,” Rosalinde said. She stepped into the room and held out a hand to her sister. Celia took it and let Rosalinde guide her to the settee. “You weren’t paying attention, that much was abundantly clear.” Rosalinde touched her cheek. “I have stayed silent long enough, Celia, I can do it no longer. Tell me what has been troubling you these past few days.”

Celia dipped her chin. She and Rosalinde were too close to keep secrets. And she needed her older sister’s counsel now more than ever it seemed. So she drew a long breath.

“What do you think of Aiden?”

Rosalinde smiled slightly. “I knew it was about him. What do I think of him…well, I suppose that depends upon whether or not he has hurt you in some way.”

Celia shook her head. “He hasn’t. Since meeting him, he has been nothing but wonderful to me.”

“Then I will tell you that I like the man. When he spends time with the three of us, I feel as though he fits into our little family group. He seems intelligent, which is good, as someone who didn’t match your wit would certainly bore you no matter how handsome he was.”

“That is true,” Celia admitted. “Though he
is
handsome.”

Rosalinde laughed. “A bonus in his favor. But he also seems kind, and that puts my mind at ease. Most importantly, he appears to care for you. I have caught him watching you from time to time when you aren’t looking, and there is an expression on his face that makes me think he would work very hard to make you happy.”

Celia sighed. “There is a bit of sadness in him, as well. I see it around his eyes, his mouth. He hasn’t opened up to me about it, but it is there. He isn’t just some spoilt duke who never understood pain.”

“Then he has depth,” Rosalinde said. “Of course, none of how I feel about him makes any difference. The true question is how do
you
feel?”

Celia’s hands had begun to shake and she clenched them together on her lap. She was about to say those words she hadn’t dared to say out loud. Once she did, they would be real. They would be dangerously real.

“I am…in love with him,” she whispered. The second she said it, her heart began to pound faster, but not out of nervousness or anxiety. No, this was out of pure joy. She smiled even as tears of wonder filled her eyes. “I’m in love with him. I know it’s soon.”

“Sometimes it takes years to know, sometimes just one night,” Rosalinde reassured her, tears in her own blue eyes. “I’m so happy, Celia. There were times I questioned if I damaged you by encouraging you to break your engagement to Stenfax last year. But to see you now makes me so happy that you gave yourself a chance at love. You deserve nothing less.”

Celia’s smile faded a fraction. “I’ll admit that these feelings are part of my distraction the past day, but there is…more. And I must tell you because it impacts you.”

Rosalinde cocked her head. “What more?”

“When Aiden was here yesterday afternoon, I-I told him the truth.”

Rosalinde drew back. Celia obviously didn’t have to say more. Her sister fully understood what she meant by that comment. “I see. The
whole
truth?” she asked.

Celia managed a nod. “About Grandfather and the breaking of the engagement and about our origins. That we are bastard daughters of a servant whose name we don’t even know.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t keep it from him. To pursue anything further without telling him felt like something Grandfather would do.”

“A trap,” Rosalinde said softly.

“Exactly.”

“And how did Clairemont take the news?” Rosalinde asked. “He left so hurriedly and I wondered why.”

Celia shrugged. “He was infinitely kind. He told me that none of it mattered. He said all the right things and it was a great comfort.”

Rosalinde wrinkled her brow at those words. “That should make me feel better and yet it doesn’t. Do you think he didn’t mean those things?”

“I’m sure he did,” Celia replied. “But just because he doesn’t care about my origin doesn’t mean it won’t damage the bond between us. There was hesitation in him when I told him, I felt it.”

Rosalinde folded her arms with a sudden, dark scowl. “Did I say I liked him? I meant that I think he’s callous and self-serving.”

“Oh, don’t,” Celia said, grabbing her hand. “Please don’t, Rosalinde. You
know
it’s more complicated for men like that. Even Stenfax hesitated when he learned the truth, although that isn’t why our engagement ended. And Aiden is a duke, the last of his line. He must think of his title, his reputation.”

“I suppose,” Rosalinde said with reluctance. “Though if he loves you, I would think
that
would trump all else.”

Celia shifted. Aiden had not said he loved her. He
cared
for her, which felt like cold comfort, indeed. Especially when her heart was swelled with love like a creek after heavy rain.

“Perhaps it will yet,” she said, pushing those hesitations aside. “He said he would assist Gray in his search.”

Rosalinde’s eyes went wider. “He did? I’m certain Gray would appreciate that.”

Celia sighed heavily. “I want to know who our father is, Rosalinde. So much that it makes my chest ache with the wondering.”

“I know, Celia. And I want so much for both of us to have those answers. But not at any cost.”

Celia flinched. Her sister didn’t know she’d gone to Fitzgilbert. She wasn’t about to share that fact, either. She would just have to keep her promise to Aiden and hope he would be able to help her.

“Do you think we’ll ever know?” Celia asked. “Or that I’ll ever reach the place you’ve come to?”

“What do you mean?” Rosalinde asked.

“You seem at peace with it,” Celia explained. “I’m not saying you don’t care, but there is an acceptance in you that I cannot say I feel.”

Rosalinde hesitated and seemed to be searching for words. “It
isn’t
acceptance. I would dearly love to know his name, to see his face, to ask him questions and to know if we ever had his love. But…but it’s different now. Since marrying Gray, my heart is more filled. It isn’t that the past doesn’t hurt, but I have more faith in the future. And I hope, when you marry Clairemont, that you will experience the same shift.”

Celia bit her lip, reminded that Clairemont hadn’t yet spoken to her of marriage despite their courtship, despite the physical intimacies they had shared. “So do I,” she whispered.

“Ladies?”

Both women turned as Gray entered the room. His face was somber, though he smiled as Rosalinde got up and came across the room to kiss his cheek. He took her hand and the two of them looked at Celia.

“You overheard,” Celia said.

He smiled slightly. “I did. A little. Enough. I want so much to give you and Rosalinde that information you seek.”

Rosalinde squeezed his hand. “And it sounds as though you’ll no longer need to do that search alone. Lord Clairemont knows and has offered to help.”

Gray’s eyes widened as he looked at Celia. “Yes?” Celia nodded. “I see. Well, with the two of us on the case, certainly we cannot fail.”

Celia couldn’t help but smile. He had faith. And she had to have it to. Both in Gray and Aiden’s ability to find her father,
and
in the fact that Aiden did care for her. One day it would blossom into more.

She was certain of it.

Clairemont swung off his horse and checked his pocket watch. He was late. He was never late. However today, punctuality had been intruded upon by unwanted thoughts of Celia. Unwanted dreams of her that had kept him up last night, and the night before, and the night before.

It had been three days since he saw her last. He’d tried to distance himself from her, he’d even stopped writing her as he had been doing. But he was still obsessed with her and what she’d told him. With what he’d encountered when he confronted her grandfather. His mind was a jumble.

One he had to clear before he reached the top of the steps and entered Danford’s house. The gentleman had called him here to discuss business and Clairemont needed to be at the top of his game. Right now he wasn’t, when all he could think about is whether or not he would see Celia. And what he would say to her after a few days’ absence.