“Thank you,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so breathless.
“Of course,” he said with a nod, and she couldn’t help but stare at him without his jacket. Despite the fact he was fully covered, there was somehow an unspoken intimacy in seeing him in such a state of undress.
She swallowed hard when his eyes met hers. Did she see a flash of desire there, or was she only projecting her own wishes upon the situation?
Suddenly he looked over her shoulder at something up above, and then he reached out and gripped her arms excitedly as he turned her around.
“Celeste,” he exclaimed, his voice breathless, “look!”
“At what?” she asked, perplexed by his sudden enthusiasm.
“A shooting star,” he said, leaning in close behind her, lifting his arm and pointing to the sky above. She followed his finger up to the heavens, feeling his breath against her ear as he remained just over her shoulder.
She caught sight of it just then, and gasped. She had seen shooting stars before, but each time they impressed her anew with their beauty. This one shot overhead, sparkling across the sky as though it was designed for the two of them, in this moment.
“Amazing,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
“It’s stunning,” he said, his voice just behind her.
“Although, it’s not actually a star but really just pieces of rock,” she said wistfully.
“Yes, burning within the earth’s atmosphere,” he finished for her. “But perhaps, for a moment, we forget that we know the truth of it. We forget that we are scientists seeing the facts of what things are, and just appreciate the joy and beauty it provides?”
She smiled, tilting her head back to look at him, the star now gone. In the dim light she saw his eyes, dark and unreadable, looking down upon her instead of up to the sky. “Who’s the romantic now?”
“I am only taking my cue from you.”
He leaned in then, and before she quite knew what was happening, he gently pressed his lips upon hers. She turned in his arms, allowing the pressure to increase. One of his hands came to the back of her head, the other to the small of her back as he held her against him as though she was the most precious of instruments. His lips tasted her, teased her, and she melted in his arms as he kissed her with the same purpose that he did everything else.
Celeste forgot everything but him, reveling in him, taking all that he had to offer, returning all of the passion she held within her.
Deep in the back of her mind, she knew that this was wrong — that he was bound to another, that she was worse than her brother and his designs on Lady Venetia. But her heart and her soul silenced her mind, and she was as lost in Oliver as she often was in the stars.
Finally, he broke away, though he didn’t leave her. He rested his forehead against hers, their breath intermingling in the air between them.
“Celeste—” he said, and she shook her head against him.
“Don’t say it,” she said, knowing he would echo her thoughts — that they should never have kissed. “I already know. You belong to another.”
“While I know in mind that it was wrong,” he said, his voice ragged, “why, in my heart and my soul, did it feel so right?”
11
Oliver wondered if Celeste was going to appear at all the next day. As much as he hoped she would, he suspected the chance was low. After last night’s kiss in the gardens and his subsequent confession, she had simply looked at him, blinked, and then run back toward the house as though by leaving him behind she could also undo all that had occurred between them.
But the truth was, he would never forget that kiss, as long as he lived, no matter what else further happened between the two of them.
It was wrong. He knew that. Guilt crept over him when he thought of Venetia. He never would have thought himself such a man, and yet, when he was with Celeste, it was as though he was blinded to all reason.
A knock sounded at his door, and he looked up in anticipation, trying not to show any dismay when his sister stood framed in the doorway.
“May I come in?” she asked, which he answered by gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
“Are you well today?” she asked as she settled herself. He frowned at the question.
“Why would I not be?”
“Last night, on the way home, you seemed rather… unsettled,” she said, her brown eyes peering at him. “You hardly said a word to Lady Venetia or her mother as we conveyed them home, and then when Mother and I attempted to speak to you about what so preoccupied you, all you did was stare out the window of the carriage as though you hadn’t even heard us.” She crossed her hands over one another, the picture of innocence, although he knew better. She would ferret out the truth better than any Bow Street Runner. “What happened at the Keswicks’?”
Everything had happened. Fate had told him that he had chosen the wrong direction, that he was to follow the shooting star to what his heart wanted. And yet, if that was what he should be doing, then why had he been sent down this path to begin with — to finally find a woman he so dearly longed for when he was already attached to another?
“Nothing,” he finally muttered. “Nothing happened.”
“No?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing in the gardens?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Actually, I suppose, I did see something in the gardens. A shooting star.”
“Did you, now?” she asked, considering his words. “Well, that is interesting.” She paused. “Were you with Lady Venetia?”
“I was not.”
“Hmm,” Alice mused, placing a finger upon her chin. “I could have sworn I saw her leave the ballroom around that time.”
Oliver sighed. “Alice, why do you not just say what it is you wish to say and we can then be done with it?”
“Oh, Oliver, you take the fun out of such things,” she said, her lip drooping in a mock pout. “But fine, have it your way. I saw Lady Venetia leave the ballroom not long after Nicholas Keswick. From the way they were making eyes at one another, I wouldn’t be surprised if they went somewhere together. Alone.”
She lifted her eyebrows as though that was supposed to raise his awareness to her unspoken words. But she needn’t have added it, for he was far too aware of what the suggestion was.
He rubbed his forehead. He was no longer in any position to be judging Venetia, and yet how was he supposed to say such a thing to his sister?
“I highly doubt Lady Venetia was doing anything untoward,” he finally said. “She just met the man last night, for goodness sake.”
“Believe what you want to, Oliver,” Alice said with a shrug of her shoulders. “I am only telling you what I saw.”
She rose, apparently finished with her mission of the day. “Say, how is your search for the mysterious planet coming along?”
His sister had a knack for making his work sound as though it was some kind of fantasy he was playing at for fun.
“It’s coming,” he said slowly. “There is still much work to do, and I am afraid that I am getting behind.”
“Is Miss Keswick coming today?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Oh, Ollie, you must be a better employer,” she said with an impish grin, and he shook his head.
“Off with you now,” he said, waving his hand. “I must concentrate. Shut the door on your way out, will you?”
“Very well,” she said, her fake pout re-affixed to her face. “Goodbye for now.”
“See you at dinner, Alice.”
Celeste rapped on the door, just beneath the huge scowling lionhead, which always filled her with a sense of trepidation. It was so unlike the rest of the Duke of Wyndham’s house, yet Rebecca insisted it remain. She said it held fond memories, though of what, Celeste had no idea.
Dexter, the St. Vincent’s butler, ushered her through the house into the drawing room, the room Celeste loved most. When Jemima’s brot
her had unexpectedly been named the Duke of Wyndham, he had moved into the unfinished London mansion with his sister, Jemima, and their mother. Last year he and Rebecca had married while she and her father, the renowned architect, had been working on completing the house.
Celeste had loved Rebecca and her renovations on sight.
“Where is everyone?” Celeste asked, sitting down to the tea already laid out in front of her.
“Miss St. Vincent will be joining you shortly,” Dexter said. “She is in her laboratory.”
“And Rebecca?”
“Her grace will be a few more minutes.”
“Thank you, Dexter,” she said with a smile, which the butler returned with a bow.
Celeste typically had plenty of patience, but not today. She was far too on edge after all that had happened the night before, and so she decided she would go forth and seek Jemima. She was not surprised to find her friend bent over a strange concoction of liquids, her hair pulled back away from her face with a headband.
“Jemima?” she called so that she wouldn’t scare her friend as she entered the room.
Jemima didn’t look up, but instead held up a finger in Celeste’s direction. “One moment,” she said before going back to her experiments and the calculations that she was scratching on a paper in front of her. Finally, she looked up.
“I’m so sorry, Celeste,” she said as she began to clean up in front of her. Her small laboratory was ingeniously tucked away behind many of the plants of the conservatory. “I had meant to be with you in but a moment, but then I was on to something and I thought I could quickly finish. Next thing you know…” She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, you know how it is. Allow me to wash up and then I will be with you shortly.”
“Where is Rebecca?” Celeste asked once they finally made their way back along the corridor.
“I believe she is in the boxing room, watching Val spar,” Jemima said, rolling her eyes. “But that’s all right. I wanted to speak with you before Freddie and Miles arrive.”
“Miles is coming too?”
“Yes, he and Val will do something gentlemanly while we have our tea,” Jemima said with a smile. “But first, tell me everything that occurred last night.”
“What are you talking about?” Celeste asked, feigning innocence.
“You know exactly what I am talking about, Celeste Keswick,” Jemima said with all of the sternness of a strict governess. “First, I saw the way you responded when you met Lord Essex across the ballroom. Then, I saw you waltzing with him. Why, you looked like you were actually enjoying yourself! I have never seen you enjoy a dance in your life. Then he leaves the ballroom, and you disappear soon after. So, the question is… where did you go?”
She eyed Celeste, who bit her lip.
“Was it really that obvious?”
“Just to me,” Jemima said with a shrug, but then her blue eyes flashed. “What happened? I can see something happened.”
Celeste began pouring out the whole story as Jemima listened with rapt attention. When she finally finished, Jemima leaned across the sofa and picked up Celeste’s hands in hers.
“Oh, Celeste,” she said with a soft smile. “How wonderful.”
“No!” Celeste said, jumping up from the couch and beginning to pace. “Not wonderful. He is betrothed. To one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Did you not see her last night?”
“He is?” Jemima said, leaning back and scratching her head. “Did I know that? Maybe I did…” she mused, frowning. Jemima was never one to stay abreast of societal news.
“Who is she?” she asked.
“Lady Venetia—”
“Oh, yes, I do recall seeing her! Leaving the room shortly after your brother.”
“Oh, Nicholas!” Celeste said, throwing her hand across her brow, not caring how dramatic she might seem. “I told him not to pursue her. Although who am I to judge?”
She threw herself back on the sofa, a pile of muslin. “I’m just as bad as he is.”
Jemima leaned over and patted her hand. “It sounds to me,” she said, pushing back an errant strand of her blonde hair, “that Lord Essex is just as interested in you as you are in him. Although I believe that you might be better off avoiding this entire situation.”
“I have no idea how to face him again,” Celeste despaired. “I actually ran away from him last night, like a little girl afraid of the dark. I was supposed to see him today, as we are working hard on our calculations to determine whether there might be an unknown planet or other body affecting George’s Star, but I could not bring myself to look him in the face again. What am I to do?”
“You be the brave woman you are and face him as though nothing is amiss,” Jemima suggested. “What else can you do?”
“Hide and never return,” Celeste said morosely.
“That is an option,” Jemima opined. “But then you might never see him again, and wouldn’t that be worse?”
“Perhaps,” Celeste said with a sigh. “It is hard to know anymore.”
But before Jemima could offer up any further opinion, Rebecca joined them, a particularly joyful look on her face that Celeste couldn’t quite decipher, but which caused Jemima to look at Celeste and roll her eyes. Freddie followed close behind, and before long they had moved on to other subjects — such as the fair that was to take place later that week. Celeste had completely forgotten about it with everything else that was going on, but she gave her commitment to attend.
Perhaps if she filled her mind and her schedule with other things, she would forget all that happened.
She knew, however, that was a lie. She could think of nothing but Oliver.
12
Celeste didn’t arrive the next day, or the day after that. Oliver knew he should send a note round to ask if she was going to return to work, but what was he to say?
Dear Miss Keswick, I apologize for kissing you in your family’s gardens, but I would dearly love to see you again, despite the fact that I am currently betrothed and, if I were a better man, would keep myself from ever being in your presence again. Alas, I cannot bring myself to do so. Oh, and besides that, I sincerely need your help.
For he did. He was close — he could feel it — and yet he had two quite opposite hypotheses of where this perturbance — or planet, as he knew it was — could be.
He needed to see what she had come up with.
Oliver had never thought he would be a man to do wrong by the woman he was attached to. He was firmly decided that he would not be one of those men who continually left the bed of his wife for another but would, in fact, be loyal.
He was beginning to wonder, however, if Venetia had the same thoughts in mind — and how happy the two of them would be bound to one another for the rest of their lives.
He promised himself that he wouldn’t give into temptation once more. There had been something about that shooting star in the lush gardens beyond the Keswicks’ house, with Celeste in his arms, that had destroyed all of his restraint he had typically erected and he had acted upon the emotions that had fueled him.
Then Wyndham invited him to the Bartholomew Fair, and he decided he would leave it be for a moment, for he knew Celeste would be there, wouldn’t she? She was good friends with Wyndham’s sister and his wife, and he couldn’t see her missing out on such an outing. He had been obligated to invite Venetia, of course, though he had no idea how he was supposed to navigate the woman he was promised to and the woman who was mightily tempting him, albeit through no fault of her own. Somehow, he thought inviting his sister might help distract one of the women. Alice, of course, was overjoyed.
He ensured that his valet took the greatest care the day of the fair, though his servant eyed him with some surprise, for Oliver typically told him it didn’t matter what he wore as long as he was clothed, and the fair would certainly have all manner of attendees. Oliver could dress in his bedclothes and likely match many of the men who would be upon the streets of Smithfield.
&nbs
p; The carriage ride was rather lengthy, being that the fair was held just outside of London in the neighborhood of Smithfield. As the wheels rattled down the ancient stones, the clip-clopping of his horses’ hooves were audible from beyond the curtain, which Oliver had half pulled back. He kept his gaze out the window, ostensibly on the passing scenery, though he could practically feel his sister’s eyes upon him. He was well aware that he would later on hear about how unfair it had been that she had been left to entertain Venetia. Fortunately, Alice was rather skilled at making polite conversation, and the two women chatted — shallowly though amiably — throughout the drive.
When the carriage came to a stop, the sounds of the fair beyond reached their ears. Shouts of merchants hawking wares and visitors calling to one another intermingled into one great din.
The scent of roasted pork, candies, and, well, people, greeted them as they descended the steps of the carriage to the street below. Oliver caught Venetia’s look of disgust as she lifted a parasol above her head and gingerly kept her skirts from dragging through the ground at her feet.
“The grass of Smithfield is the same as that of Hyde Park,” Alice remarked, apparently also noticing Venetia’s actions.
“Pardon me?” Venetia asked, blinking.
“Your skirts,” Alice pointed at their feet. “They are not going to get any dirtier on this grass than when you walk Hyde Park.” She grinned then, breaking some of the tension her comments had created. “Although once we reach the street, that will certainly change.”
Oliver had to turn to the side and feign a cough in order to refrain from laughing at his sister as they stood outside the carriage at the location where they were supposed to meet Wyndham and his party — a party that Oliver mightily hoped included Celeste.
Only so that he could ask her when she would be returning to work, of course.
“Essex!” A hand clapped onto his shoulder. “So good of you to make it.”
He turned to find a much greater party than he had been imagining was awaiting him. Not only were the Duke and Duchess of Wyndham there, as well as Wyndham’s sister, Miss St. Vincent, but Lord and Lady Dorrington, and Dorrington’s brother, Benjamin Luxington. And then there were the brother and sister Keswick.
Discovering the Baron (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 3) Page 8
