“No. But we are remarkably adept at appearing so.”
“Are we?” He glanced toward her, one brow lifting. “Last night argues otherwise.”
“Last night we were not pretending.” Her voice softened. “Last night we were… what were we?”
“Honest, perhaps,” he said quietly. “For the first time since our wedding.”
“And look where honesty delivered us—the scandal of the season.”
“There are less amusing things to be.”
Before Celine could answer, Morrison appeared once more, looking positively beleaguered.
“Your Grace—additional callers. Several.” He paused, as if bracing himself. “The entrance hall is… rather congested.”
Elias sighed. “Who has arrived?”
“Lord and Lady Ashford, Miss Weatherby and her mother, Lord Ashworth, Mr and Mrs Faxtone, the Vanceleys—”
“Mercy,” he muttered. “A siege.”
“—your solicitor, the Duke of Haverford, and a young lady who claims to be Lady Rothwest’s sister.”
“Lucy?” Celine rose at once. “Show her in immediately. The others may wait.”
“Or depart,” Elias added. “Preferably depart.”
Moments later, Lucy swept in, cheeks flushed with triumph. “You two are infamous! Five dances! Mother nearly fainted at breakfast. Father poured himself a heroic brandy and declared that at least you look happy. And Anne wishes to know whether it was frightfully romantic.”
“Lucy,” Celine attempted sternness, but achieved only affection. “What brings you here?”
“Delivering these.” She produced a stack of letters from her reticule. “Invitations, mostly. A few pointed omissions. And this—” she held up one envelope between two fingers “—from Aunt Prudence. She says she is either immensely proud of you or deeply appalled; she has not yet determined which.”
Elias accepted the letters, leafing through them with mounting amusement. “Invitation. Invitation. Thinly veiled insult masquerading as invitation. Actual insult. Invitation. Threat of social ruin.” He paused. “Invitation to a christening—why on earth are we invited to a christening?”
“Because they wish to see if we shall again dance four times,” Celine offered.
“At a christening?”
“We have proven ourselves capable of anything.”
Lucy’s eyes sparkled as she looked between them. “You’re enjoying this. Both of you. You are positively revelling in your own notoriety.”
“We are making the best of an… interesting circumstance,” Elias said carefully.
“No,” Lucy corrected cheerfully. “You are flirting your way through social disaster. Quite charming, really. Also, the drawing room is bursting with people desperate for details. What shall I tell them?”
“Tell them we are indisposed,” Elias said at once.
“Tell them we shall be down presently,” Celine countered.
They faced one another.
“We cannot hide,” she said gently. “That will only worsen the gossip.”
“If I face them all, I may hurl someone out a window.”
“Then we face them strategically. Together.”
