This time, their laughter hurt.
“Do you know Mr. Cade?” Marianne asked. “We are all hopeful for him.”
Peter turned to Celia, ready with his next line. “The perfect example of English manhood,” he quipped.
“Oh, exactly!” Celia clasped her hands, delighted.
He had not expected her to agree so easily. John Cade seemed real, right there in the room with them, and Peter wanted to punch his placid face. Actually, he was not all right with that bastard marrying Celia.
But he couldn’t offer for her. He had no life for a lady.
Marianne looped her arms around Celia’s shoulders, and Peter’s throat closed with love for them both—not love. What foolishness.
“Someone is going to fall desperately in love with my Celia, I’m positive of it!” The girl laid her cheek on Celia’s hair.
Peter had threatening letters on his doorstep. His boss wanted him to work but he could fall off the roof and die. Hisparlor had mold and he needed the payment from the Pipperly report before he could buy a house. Peter could fix it all with time, but Celia didn’t have time.
“Who could resist?” He grinned, compliments flowing easily, meaninglessly. “A veritable goddess among women! Helen of Troy crossed with Queen Guinevere.”
“Exactly!” Marianne laughed, and Celia shook her head, smiling.
Peter couldn’t let himself get distracted with petty jealousy. A marriage between Celia and Cade would only hurt himself, and he didn’t matter in this equation. He never had. He would take the pain of it a thousand times rather than see her with Edmund Hargreaves.
“I’ll show myself out. Miss Westhaven, your obedient. Miss Marianne!”
“Yes?”
“Take good care of your cousin.” He winked, but he meant it.
No one else was going to. Not her dashing brother, not her lazy uncle.
They all needed to stay out of Francis’s way—stay out of the way of Celia making her own plans for her own life.
Chapter Fifteen
But the Thread Becomes Tangled
Forty-one days. That’sall the time Celia had to fix everything.
“Celie?”
Celia looked up from the decorations she was helping Charlotte select for her upcoming dinner party, the marketplace bustling behind them. Charlotte’s taste was excellent, but her confidence was shaky.
“These silk flowers are beautifully dyed, aren’t they?” Celia asked.
Charlotte sorted them carefully, holding each against the other items she had already purchased. “Celia… I’m worried about Henrietta.”
Celia laid a new packet with their bundle. “You could use these ribbons to trim your linens, afterwards, so it doesn’t really count against your party budget.”
“Those older men keep circling her, like bees to the hive, and I don’t think they mean marriage.” Charlotte wouldn’t be deterred.
Celia knew they didn’t, but Henrietta had seemed so buoyant and confident lately. Celia wanted to believe that the rumors would not mar Henrietta’s sparkling debut. “But no one will take them seriously. There—the color matches perfectly.”
Charlotte drew silk flowers from the display, one by one, her brow furrowed. “The gossip is that she’s just looking for fun. She laughs too much, and wins too often, and…”
“And we all know they would tell a different story, if her bosoms were half the size and her dowry twice what it is?” Celia didn’t bother to keep her venom from Charlotte.
“I know you don’t like it, but I think you need to encourage your brother.” Charlotte passed coins to the vendor.
