He helped her down from the carriage, his hands firm at her waist. They lingered a fraction longer than necessity allowed.
“Welcome home, wife.”
“Such enthusiasm.”
“Should I have arranged trumpets and fanfare?”
“That would certainly set the servants whispering for weeks.”
“They hardly lack material.”
Morrison opened the door with practiced precision. “Your Grace, my lady. Welcome home. I trust your journey was pleasant?”
“Tolerable,” the Duke replied, removing Celine’s cloak with quiet care.
“There have been numerous callers in your absence, Your Grace. Their cards are arranged on your desk.”
“Of course.” His gaze slid to Celine. “The vultures circle early. Eager to see whether the Beast has been tamed.”
“And has he?” she asked softly.
His answer was low. “You tell me.”
The question hovered between them, charged, until Morrison’s patient presence compelled them back to propriety.
“Dinner at eight?” the Duke said at last.
“Unless you prefer dining privately, after travelling.”
“No. Together.” He turned to her. “Unless you are too tired?”
“Never too tired to dine with my husband.”
Something shifted in his eyes—not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. “Eight o’clock, then. Do not be late.”
“I would not dare.”
She climbed the stairs, aware of his gaze at her back. In her chamber, the locked door stood silent and immovable—a symbol of the pact they were clinging to with less conviction every day.
Eleven days and fifteen hours.
But as she laid her hand against the wood, imagining his palm pressed to the opposite side, she no longer doubted the outcome.
Those locks would fall.
Chapter Thirteen
Sally had already drawn the bath when Celine entered her chambers, humming the same cheerful tune she’d been humming all morning.
“Oh, my lady, it isverygood to have you home,” she said brightly. “The house hasn’t felt the same without you and His Grace.”
“Hasn’t it? Rothwest House is always quiet.”
“A different quiet.” Sally tested the water with expert fingers. “Empty quiet, not peaceful quiet. Will you wear the blue silk for dinner?”
“The green, I think,” Celine said.
“The one with the lower neckline?” Sally’s tone was innocently casual; her expression in the mirror was not.
