“You are as stubborn as our friend told us,” Damien said.
Celine smiled, standing straighter and pushing her shoulders back, wearing the statement as a badge of honor. “Then it is decided. Now, I am going to my room before afternoon tea. Please make sure you are there, I don’t want to be alone with him this afternoon.”
“We’ll be there,” Michael said, nodding his affirmation.
They all waited through the rest of the day on pins and needles, waiting to enact their plan the following morning. They made polite mealtime conversation, doing their best to be gracious houseguests.
After dinner, Duke Northcott cornered Celine over nightcaps, having a private conversation with her while Theodore and Celeste insisted the Carlyles join them in a card game. The Duke’s constant hovering over Celine distracted Michael but he did his best to remain engaged so as not to cause any suspicion.
“Good evening, Celine,” Duke Northcott said, blocking her from continuing toward the couch.
“Duke Northcott, good evening,” Celine said, giving him a fake smile.
“How fortunate we were that your father was called away early.”
“Fortunate?” Celine questioned.
“Yes, it has allowed me the good fortune to enjoy your company for two more nights than I should have.”
“How kind,” Celine said, trying to take a step toward the center of the room.
Duke Northcott blocked her again, stepping to the side to prevent her from moving.
“I must confess that kindness is not the primary motive.”
“Oh?” Celine asked, playing innocent, knowing full well where this was likely headed.
He rubbed a finger against her cheek. “Oh, Celine, you must realize how beautiful you are.” Celine smiled at him but did not respond. “And you must be able to see how enamored I am with you.”
“I imagine with all your travels you have had the good fortune to meet many beautiful women,” Celine said, dodging the statement.
“None that have set my heart on fire as you have,” he said, his eyes piercing hers with intensity as he closed the distance between them.
Celine wasn’t sure she could take much more without becoming nauseated. This man repulsed her, yet he gave her no reason to react this way. Still, she could not shake the perception, it was rooted deeply inside of her. “Oh, Duke Northcott, you mustn’t speak this way.”
“I am sorry, Celine, I know you may find it improper but I cannot help myself.”
“We’ve only just met,” Celine said, putting him off again.
“It does not matter, I am a decisive man, I know what I want. Perhaps we can steal away for a more private conversation?”
Celine had no desire to be alone with this man beyond what was needed for her plan. She had to think fast. She swayed on her feet, feigning unsteadiness. “Celine? Are you ill?” Duke Northcott asked, catching her as she swooned. The other men jumped to their feet.
“Oh, I am so terribly light-headed,” Celine lied, throwing her hand across her forehead in a dramatic motion.
Celeste rushed across the room with Theodore. “Perhaps you should sit down for a moment,” she said.
Theodore poured a small glass of brandy and brought it to her. “Here, Celine, drink some of this, to steady yourself.”
Celine accepted the glass, taking a small sip. Celeste stroked her hair. “Are you feeling any better, my darling?”
“A little.”
“Perhaps she should go to bed?” Michael suggested.
“Is that necessary? She said she is better,” Duke Northcott commented.
Celine stood. “Yes, I am feeling…” her voice trailed off as she collapsed to the couch, continuing to feign her illness.
“I think you may be correct, Mr. Carlyle. Perhaps the best thing would be rest. Celine? Celine,” Celeste said, rubbing her hand, “are you able to walk to your bedroom?”
“I’ll help her,” Michael said.
“Surely you do not expect her to walk,” Duke Northcott said. “She almost collapsed. Stand aside,” he said, pushing between Damien and Michael. “I shall carry her.” He lifted Celine from the couch, carrying her from the room as Celeste scurried in front of him, opening doors.
“My poor Celine,” he said as he carried her through the foyer and up the steps.
“I fear your forthrightness has overwhelmed me, Duke.”
“Please, call me Marcus. My sincerest apologies, but I am a man who speaks his mind.”
She smiled at him as they reached her bedroom, more so because the experience would soon be over than from his comments. Celeste pushed the door open and Duke Northcott gently laid her on the bed.
“Thank you so much. What a bother I’ve been,” she said to both of them.
“Not at all. Please get some rest, Celine. I hope you are soon recovered.” He kissed her hand.
“Yes, thank you, Duke, I’ll take it from here,” Celeste said, prompting him to leave. He closed the door behind him. “I think he fancies you,” Celeste said, helping settle Celine, removing her dress and getting her nightgown.
“He scarcely knows me,” Celine said, wobbling on her feet, trying to keep up her ruse.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. He’s a man who knows what he wants.” Celine rolled her eyes. “I know how to read a man. He fancies you, Celine. It would not surprise me if he offers marriage soon.”
“We shall see, Celeste. Now, I am exhausted, I’d like to get some rest.”
“Of course, sister dear. I hope you are feeling better soon,” Celeste kissed her forehead and left her to sleep.
Celine lay in bed, unable to sleep at first. The events of the night rattled through her mind along with the letter’s warning. She hoped the plan worked and the Carlyles soon found that book. She wanted to rid herself of this man as soon as possible and she was not looking forward to their conversation the next morning. Celeste may be correct and if so, she wanted to avoid that situation at all costs. Still, she had agreed to help, and was determined to
