Page 66 of Wicked By Design

Chapter 15

Cecilia, You’re Breaking My Heart

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 20thSeptember 1816

Damian handed his hat to Howard with a rueful smile. “Good morning, Howard.”

“And to you, Lord Rivington.”

“Well, what is amiss today? Need I go dig up potatoes for the wedding feast, or muck out the Augean stables, perhaps?”

Howard chuckled, which Damian felt to be something of a triumph, as the fellow had wanted to carve out his heart with a spoon just a couple of weeks ago.

“Several minor catastrophes,” he confided, rather to Damian’s amusement. “But nothing truly dreadful. I believe the Dowager Duchess of Langley is, er, a lady of strong opinions.”

“What you are tactfully trying to tell me, Howard, is that my grandmother-in-law is a pain in my arse and is causing trouble again.”

“I could not possibly comment,” Howard replied gravely, though there was a twinkle in his eyes. “Lady Cecilia is in the dining room, if you would like to follow me. We are readying things for the wedding breakfast. It is a rather… delicate procedure.”

Damian thought he detected a note of strain to even the indomitable Howard’s voice and sighed. He did not doubt the fellow was unused to people sticking their oar in when he oversaw the arranging of the table. Though he suspected Celia’s grandmother was compensating for her worry over her granddaughter’s future by controlling every aspect of the wedding, he did not know how to reassure the wretched woman when he was just as anxious as she was.

“The sooner this blasted wedding is over the better,” he grumbled as he followed Howard, and then wondered what he was saying. If he thought things were complicated now, how much worse would they get when Celia was his wife?

Last night she had lured—yes, lured—him into saying all sorts of rash things because she had wept so piteously, damn her eyes. He’d felt as low as if he’d been caught murdering kittens. That she could manipulate him so easily was terrifying. Except it was worse than that, because she hadn’t manipulated him at all, she’d not even tried. He’d volunteered!

Today, he must do better. He would explain calmly and rationally that he would always be her friend, that he would not leave her by herself for months on end, they… they would find a way to… to share a house but not their lives.

The idiocy of that idea was not lost on him.

With a groan, he stiffened his resolve and entered the dining room, which was unrecognisable from the last time he’d seen it. The place was bristling with servants, so many that he could not at first make out his fiancée. She gave him a little wave before she disappeared again behind a phalanx of footmen. Flowers—some of which he thought he recognised from the monstrosity bouquet—decorated the table, filling the room with perfume.

The Dowager Duchess of Langley stood at the head of the table, commanding half a dozen maids who looked as if they were being run ragged.

“Grandmama, I really think Cilly—” Hetty began, only to have her opinion waved away as the dowager barked at a footman. “No, no. Where are the large candelabra?”

The footman, looking mildly panicked, darted a glance at Damian. “These are the large candelabra, your grace.”

Her face fell. “Oh.” Turning, she looked at the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney, who was sitting in a comfortable chair in the corner of the room, sipping a cup of tea and looking thoroughly entertained. “Are they the biggest you have, Maria?”

“They are the biggest silver ones,” the wretched woman replied calmly. Howard stilled, glancing at the perfection of the silver cutlery arranged with military position on the eye wateringly white tablecloth with a wince. “But the gold are larger.”

“Oh, well, in that case…”

“No.” Damian’s voice rang out, and several servants stared at him, hands clasped to their chests as if praying. “Celia, my dear. Silver or Gold?”

“Silver, please.”

He did not see her, but it was definitely her voice, which was good enough. “There we are. Silver. Carry on.”

Howard let out a breath and nodded his thanks.

Damian strode through the throng and grasped his betrothed’s hand.

She looked around at him in surprise, and her smile… her smile lit up her face. She looked happy.

“Come with me.”

“Oh, but… the napkins, I was just deciding on swans or—”