An Affair in Winter (Seasons Book 1) (20 page)

Gray took them slowly. “Did you read them?”

“You are the one out to destroy this engagement, not me,” Folly said, raising his hands. “I’m merely the messenger. I have no interest in knowing the details.”

“Although we do have other news to share with you,” Marina said, sliding up to her husband and taking his hand. “That has a great deal to do with Stenfax.”

Gray pushed the papers into his inside pocket to review later and looked at them both. “News? What kind of news?”

“I don’t know how to make this easy, so I will simply state it,” Folly said. He drew a deep breath. “The Duke of Kirkford is dead.”

Gray’s ears began to ring and he blinked at his friends as he tried to keep his vision clear. “Elise’s husband.
That
Duke of Kirkford?”

Marina’s smile was soft, filled with understanding. “Yes, Gray. The only one.”

“How?” he croaked out. “When?”

“The when was a week ago. The how is still being determined, but it has been whispered that it was a duel. Over another man’s wife, though I would wager that will be covered up by the family,” Marina said. “You know I am related to that bastard—third cousins, I think.”

Gray staggered back and sank into the closest chair. The room was still spinning as he digested this news and all its ramifications.

Elise, the woman who had once ripped his brother to utter shreds with her lies, with her breaking of their engagement, with her marriage to a man with higher title and more money…she was once again free. And while Stenfax might pretend that wouldn’t bother him, if he knew…

Lucien had loved her. Completely. Desperately. Was it possible his brother would see this death as a way to be with her again? Would he be driven not by reason, but by emotion, the same way he had the night he nearly killed himself?

The very idea made Gray’s blood run cold.

“Who knows?” he whispered.

Marina and Folly exchanged a look. Folly shrugged. “Because of the scandal, not many. Kirkford was buried very quickly and quietly, in a funeral attended only by family. The only reason we know is because of Marina’s connection.”

“There’s also some dispute over inheritance of the title,” Marina explained. “Since he and Elise had no children, there are two cousins vying for it. Until that issue is resolved, there will be no announcement.”

Gray nodded. “So likely no one who comes here will share the rumor with Lucien?”

Marina’s lips parted. “I…I suppose it’s possible. Though we intended to share it, or thought you would, Gray.”

“No!” Gray leapt to his feet. “That would be a terrible mistake. You know what happened when she left. I have no intention of sharing this with my brother while he might still be vulnerable to
that
woman’s wicked wiles.”

Marina stepped closer to him. “Gray, what are you saying? You cannot keep this from Stenfax forever. It will come out, probably in a matter of days, weeks at most.”

“By then he could be married,” Gray said. “And it will be too late for him to do something foolish or for her to call him to her.”

“I thought you didn’t want your brother to marry Celia Fitzgilbert,” Folly interjected. “Wasn’t that the point of the investigators? The scheming? Are you now saying Miss Fitzgilbert is a better option?”

“Than the she-devil I know?” Gray spat. “I’m not certain at present. Neither option makes me happy, I will tell you that. Look, you’ve told me the truth now and brought me this evidence, whatever it is. Let me handle it. Let me look at the information you’ve brought on Celia and determine what is the best course of action. You can pretend you knew nothing if it comes up, put the blame on me.”

Marina sighed as she and Folly exchanged a long look. “I would not cause your brother pain. We can allow you to decide what is best. Though I would suggest that best might be simply letting Stenfax take his own path, Gray. Whether that path takes him to Miss Fitzgilbert, to Elise or to no one at all, let it be
his
decision.”

Taylor stepped in at the door and cleared his throat, drawing attention away from the matter at hand. “Lord and Lady Folworth, your room is ready.”

Gray forced a smile for his friends. “Go up, rest yourselves after your long journey, will you? There is a ball tonight to celebrate the impending nuptials and to welcome our friends. I promise you, I will speak more to you about this at length. If you can promise to stay silent until then.”

Folworth nodded. “We will, though I do question the prudence. Come, my dear.”

He took Marina’s arm and they left, worried expressions on both their faces. As they departed, Gray sank into the chair he had vacated and covered his head with his hands. Here he had been fighting so hard to protect his brother from the clutches of a title-grabber, he’d never thought he’d have to protect Lucien from the talons of someone far worse.

And now he was stuck. The only way to be entirely certain that Lucien would not be seduced in by the idea of being with the one great love of his life was to ensure he was married before he knew Elise was free. But to do that meant turning his back on the plans Gray had been pursuing for months. It meant taking the opposite side, supporting the marriage to Celia, with all its unknowns. All its potential dangers.

And he had no idea what to do now. No idea how to best handle his brother, his future and Gray’s own confused needs. But he had to decide and decide quickly. There would be, after all, a wedding in just three days.

Felicity tilted her head and laughed at something Celia had said, and Rosalinde couldn’t help but smile. Despite Gray’s best efforts, it seemed he had not swayed his younger sister against her own. And Stenfax had made no movement to end the engagement either. With just a few days until the wedding, with the other guests arriving and public parties being held, the danger to Celia was beginning to fade.

And yet Rosalinde felt little joy at the idea of her sister being bound to Stenfax. She’d been trying to tell herself it was just not yet safe for her to relax, not until the two had said their vows.

But it was more than that which trouble her. She felt a niggling worry that she had not yet named, but created tension every time she pictured Celia pledging her life to the handsome earl.

Felicity touched her hand, and Rosalinde came back to the present. “Oh, here is Marina, er, Lady Folworth. You two met her earlier today.”

Rosalinde stiffened despite herself as she watched the marchioness approach. Although she had met more than a dozen people during the arrivals and countless others since the party began tonight, Rosalinde remembered Lady Folworth above the rest. The marchioness was beautiful, with a coil of thick , ruddy hair wound on the top of her head, her dress impeccable and her smile wide.

The lady had also greeted Gray with such familiarity earlier in the day that Rosalinde’s fists had tightened at her sides.

“She is as close to your brothers as her husband is, it seems,” Rosalinde managed to croak out.

Felicity’s smile wavered a fraction. “They shared a very…they shared a traumatic experience not so very long ago. So yes, I think it bound them. She is a lovely person, Rosalinde. I’m sure you and Celia will like her so much.”

“Felicity,” Lady Folworth said as she arrived to their group, putting out both her hands to catch Felicity’s with a laugh. She pressed a warm kiss to her cheek. “And Miss Fitzgilbert, Mrs. Wilde. I’m so happy to see you both again, and to have more time for us to get to know each other.”

“I’m very pleased to see you again,” Celia said, her tone slightly stiff and awkward. But her smile was genuine enough. “Especially since Felicity was just telling us what good friends you and your husband are to Stenfax.”

Lady Folworth nodded. “Oh yes, indeed, we are very close. Gray and Lucien and Baldwin have been great friends since school, but they were kind enough to welcome me when Baldwin became the first to fall victim to the marriage mart.”

“Posh,” Felicity said with a giggle. “Folly jumped, he never fell.”

“Folly,” Celia mused. “I heard Stenfax call him that earlier, as well. I realize it is a play on his title, but a rather odd nickname.”

“Fitting, though,” Lady Folworth said. “My husband was not always the proper marquess who stands across the room speaking very seriously about politics with his friends.” She motioned her head toward him and Rosalinde found herself looking at Gray once again. He was leaned in, listening to whatever Lord Folworth was discussing. He looked very serious in that moment. And oh-so-very far away.

She dropped her gaze with a small sigh and continued to listen to Lady Folworth. “No, my Baldwin was once known for getting into terrible scrapes. Hence, Folly. For his life was full of it.”

“He is lucky you married him and set him to rights,” Felicity said, pretending seriousness.

“
I
am the lucky one,” Lady Folworth said with a rather romantic sigh of her own.

Rosalinde noticed how some of the color drained from Celia’s cheeks at the display of affection. “It was a love match, then?” she whispered.

“Indeed, it was. It
is
.” She shook her head. “We have gone off course considerably, though, talking about my husband and me. I meant only to say that certainly we shall become great friends, Miss Fitzgilbert, as the men spend a good amount of time together in London. And Gray joins us often when he is in Town.”

Celia was nodding, but Rosalinde froze at the panic that lit up her sister’s blue eyes. “I-I look forward to spending time with you, Lady Folworth,” she choked out. “I’m certain we will get along splendidly.”

Lady Folworth tilted her head. “Are you all right, my dear?”

Felicity leaned closer. “Your face is a bit flushed.”

“Yes, I’m warm. I think I will step out on the terrace for just a moment of air,” Celia said.

Rosalinde moved for her, hand outstretched. “Why don’t I take—”

Before she could finish, her sister backed away. “No, stay. I’ll only be a moment. Excuse me.”

She gathered up her skirt and all but ran for the terrace, leaving the women behind to watch her go. Lady Folworth turned back with a thin smile.

“I’m certain she must be nervous about the upcoming wedding. Such a to-do.”

Rosalinde forced herself to stop staring in the direction her sister had gone and nodded. “Oh yes. So many people to meet and preparations to meet.”

“Brides are always nervous,” Felicity said, but there was a stiff quality to her words. Rosalinde wasn’t certain if that came from Celia’s odd behavior, or her memories of her own wedding and the apparently very unhappy marriage that followed.

“But I know she will be fine,” Rosalinde lied. Lied because she
didn’t
know. Celia had always been the steadier of the two of them, despite being the younger. She’d never seen such abject terror on her sister’s face before.

“Of course she will,” Lady Folworth insisted. “Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself, Mrs. Wilde?”

Rosalinde drew back a fraction. “Me?”

“Yes,” Lady Folworth pressed. “Not only did I have an immediate sense that you and I should be friends, but that was bolstered by Gray’s high opinion when he spoke of you tonight.”

Rosalinde let her gaze slide to the man in question yet again. He was still standing with his friends, but he was now outside of the conversation, watching her. Just watching, those dark eyes boring into her, filled with intensity and all the desire she knew hung between them. She shivered.

“He spoke of me? I’m surprised to hear Mr. Danford is so complimentary,” she whispered.

Felicity frowned. “He is a little hard on Celia,” she explained to Lady Folworth. “You know how protective he is.”

Lady Folworth paled, but she didn’t look surprised at Felicity’s assertion. Rosalinde clenched her fists. It seemed Gray’s disparagement of Celia had gone beyond just his family. And yet Lady Folworth was kind to Celia, at least.

“Indeed, I do know of Gray’s proclivity to ride to the rescue when it comes to Stenfax or you, Felicity,” the lady said. Her tone was tight, but when she spoke again, it was softer. “And yet whatever he thinks, he clearly does like you, Mrs. Wilde. Just before they started talking about Whigs and what’s going on in America, Gray was just telling us what a fascinating woman you are.”

Rosalinde felt heat flooding her cheeks. Heat that multiplied when Felicity turned her attention toward her. The viscountess had a certain expression on her face, but Rosalinde couldn’t tell if it was supportive or in upset.

“
Fascinating
?” Felicity repeated, still staring at Rosalinde as if she were seeing her for the first time. “That is interesting.”

“I—I’m sure, Mr. Danford is only referring to the fact that we have similar taste in literature,” she whispered. “We discussed it when—”

She broke off. Great God, they had discussed books the night they spent together at the inn. Now her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“—we discussed it over supper one night,” she said, formulating words that somehow resembled the truth. She glanced toward the doors where her sister had departed. “You know, I ought to go after Celia. Make sure she’s all right.”