“I’ve told the woman here that Adèle is my niece, and when she guessed that you and I are newly married, I didn’t contradict her.” It seemed best that he be in a position to tell Claude the same tale should the need arise. “She insisted you wouldn’t mind a momentary disruption to your work, and I couldn’t refuse without raising her suspicions.”
Aldric set two fingers under her chin, raising her face up to his. She was tall enough that she hardly had to lookupat all. His smile was soft and slow. “I don’t mind the disruption.”
“And I don’t mind disrupting.” Indeed, she could have stood like that forever, the warmth of him shielding her against the slight chill in the breeze. The comfort of his embrace. The softness of his smile.
Paris Society would be shocked. London Society would probably fall over dead. Jean-François would be horrified. Henri might have a word or two with his friend.
But Nicolette would have laughed, not only at the absurdity of it all, but because she had likely come to suspect Céleste’s one-time feelings for Aldric, feelings Céleste had assumed had come and gone and wouldn’t return, had been lingering there all this time.
“You have very beautiful eyes, Céleste.” He traced his fingers from her chin slowly along her jaw. “And you turn a lovely shade of pink when you’re put to the blush.”
Céleste closed her eyes and tried to just breathe.
“And”—the warmth of his breath tickled her lips—“I am going to kiss you.”
“I wouldn’t object,” she whispered.
His hand slipped behind her neck. His other arm around her pulled her flush with him.
Breathe. Breathe.
His lips brushed hers. Breathing became instantly impossible. There was nothing for it but to melt into him and savor this moment she’d dreamed of but seldom let herself believe in.
“Mon ange,” he whispered, not pulling back or letting her go.
The caress of his kiss stole every thought. All the world disappeared, every worry and every danger. There was nothing but him and that moment. The feel of his embrace. The touch of his lips.
She knew her heart would never be wholly hers again, and that scared her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
He’d worried about what hismother thought of him while she was still living. He sometimes still wondered what her evaluation would be and if she would approve of the man he’d become. Céleste was the only other woman he’d ever felt that concern over. The same general idea, yet it feltentirelydifferent.
Claude and his mother had sent them on their way with a basket of food and a repaired wagon wheel, but with the warning that the repair would likely not last terribly long. Claude felt it would get them to Le Tréport—the Three Sisters port town they were aiming for—but it was a very good thing they weren’t going beyond.
The sky overhead had grown particularly leaden. The clouds seemed ready to burst at any moment. Céleste sat close to him on the bench, near enough that the ruts and juts in the road would bump her into him. She was wrapped in a blanket, but the brief moments of touching still felt very personal, very ... cozy.
As long as he lived, Aldric would never forget the look on Céleste’s face when she’d glanced up from her vegetables and seen him carrying a hefty load of firewood across a field. Hers had been the look of a woman who very much liked what she saw and was inarguably impressed. It was, no doubt, his pride and a touch of embarrassing arrogance that had made him enjoy that as much as he had.
Gentlemen of Society were encouraged to be active and athletic, applauded for polishing their skills in boxing and sword fighting and horsemanship, among other things that helped them maintain as much physical prowess as possible. Yet they were so constantly dressed in endless layers of clothing. No one except those at the private boxing salons and sword-fighting tutorages had the least idea of the athletic build any gentleman might or might not have.
He didn’t particularly wish for that to change—it would be utter chaos if men were encouraged to arrive at balls dressed for a bout of fisticuffs—but a man could very much grow used to a lady unabashedly admiring the glimpse she had. Not just any lady, though, but the only lady he truly wishedto impress in that way, the lady whose opinion of him mattered in a way no one else’s did.
Adèle was in the back of the wagon, sitting atop a blanket spread out over the hay, playing with her carved animals. There was room enough on the bench for a gap between him and Céleste. She was choosing this closeness. She’d also chosen to cross the farmer’s field to where he’d been. And to melt into his embrace. And to let him kiss her.
He still didn’t know if he was more annoyed that they’d had an audience or more relieved. Without Claude’s mother watching the entire thing, he would have simply gone on kissing Céleste. And while he would have thoroughly enjoyed doing so, it would have made keeping his head incredibly difficult.
They’d made a promise not to worry about the complications of the future until they were safely at Norwood, but he couldn’t entirely keep from his mind the realization that, at some point, they wouldn’t be together anymore. She would sort out what she meant to do with her life and her situation, and she would move on. This odd chapter in their lives would be closed.
As they rolled along, he glanced at her. She had in her hand the note they’d found in Adèle’s book. She’d spent a lot of this leg of their journey looking at it.
“Disconcerting, isn’t it?” he said. “Whoever wrote this was close enough to put it in the book.”
“And he is someone different from the man we ran from last night.” She didn’t look up from the note. “The man last night said he’d been sent by someone else. The one who wrote this note is the one being extorted. Two different people.”
“And yet we can’t identify either of them. We can’t even say where they are.”
“I don’t understand the game that’s being played,” she said. “But that’s how it feels: like we’re being toyed with.”
