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He probably understood very well. The green room was set apart from the other guest rooms, a lovely room that looked out over the rear gardens and was quite close to Colter’s own bedchamber.
He had little doubt Celia St. Clair would accept his invitation. He had not invited her alone, of course, but included Lady Leverton and her daughter as well, and also sent an invitation to Harvey, Mrs. Pemberton and her niece, Olivia Freestone. Olivia was a calculated invitation, meant to provide Harvey with feminine diversion and also give the appearance of propriety to the visit. The news should please his mother when she heard it, as she no doubt would very soon. An invitation to his country house would be spread about by city gossips soon enough.
Outwardly all was more than proper. A few days in the country, a respite from the hectic chaos of the autumn Season with Lord Northington. An opportunity to view the lovely changing colors of the trees. What could be more respectable?
Except that he intended for Celia St. Clair to enjoy far more than autumn at Harmony Hill.
PART III
“But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit.”
—Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice
14
Celia stared at her cousin incredulously. “But you cannot mean it! Oh, why did you accept Lord Northington’s invitation?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s invited us there for reasons that are quite transparent. If we refuse, he will know why.”
“If we accept, he will assume the worst. Really, I think you underestimate Lord Northington.”
“If he has wicked designs on you, we are there to see he does not succeed,” Jacqueline replied tranquilly. “Oh, it cannot be as bad as that, petite. I doubt he will risk ravishing you within earshot of your family. Besides, it is quite a social coup to be invited to his country house. Very few have ever been—why, I don’t think any female has been invited before!”
Celia jerked at the ribbons in her hair. It was going into the lion’s den, but how could she confide that to her cousin without betraying her own reaction to his touch? It was true that this would be an excellent opportunity, but for whom?
“Very well,” she said aloud. “If you think it proper for us to visit, I’ll go.”
“Brilliant! Carolyn will be delighted at the prospect of a visit to the country. Oh, Northington is intrigued by you. Yes, you were so right, it’s obvious he is quite interested, for he never would invite us if he didn’t have serious intentions.”
“Perhaps, but it’s which of his intentions are so serious that concerns me,” Celia replied lightly to hide her apprehension.
“Do you think—But no, he would not be so bold. Not even Northington would risk angering Jules.” Jacqueline lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I do not mean to sound so confident, but it is true that Jules is very influential. He has many business interests, and has been involved with the Moreland shipping concern for many years.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Celia managed a smile.
“And Mrs. Pemberton has also been invited, with her niece Olivia,” Jacqueline said thoughtfully, a frown on her brow as she read again the penned invitation that had been delivered—and answered—that morning. “I’m not at all certain why. For appearance’s sake, do you think? It’s just that Mrs. Pemberton is easily influenced and quite desperate to make a good match for Olivia. Surely he does not entertain a desire for Miss Freestone!”
“It’s possible,” Celia said, but Jacqueline was shaking her head.
“No, no, I don’t think so. Mrs. Pemberton is only a ruse. She’s too determined to snag a title for Olivia, and has become completely obsessed with the notion. Not that it’s easy having a young lady who is still on the shelf at twenty-four, but one should not allow disappointment and despair to overcome breeding and decorum.”
“I am twenty-one,” Celia pointed out wryly, and her cousin looked momentarily startled.
Then she said, “Yes, but you have not been presented, and Olivia Freestone has had several Seasons.”
“Then she deserves our compassion instead of pity, I suspect, especially if she has earned the attentions of Northington.”
Jacqueline laughed softly. “You can be most cynical at times, Celia. Lord Northington has met his match in you, I vow. Ah, it promises to be a most entertaining few days. I’ll inform Jules that we will need the carriage on Thursday.”
Harmony Hill was a pleasant surprise. Celia saw it in the valley as their landau crested the hill. By the time the vehicle paused at the gatehouse, she realized that the house itself was actually perched upon a hill slope. Beyond green meadows was a blue-gray haze that was the Straits of Dover, the channel separating England from Calais, chalky-white cliffs that plummeted into a frothy wash of surf.
“Oh, it is a lovely sight,” Jacqueline said. “I shall never forget when I first saw those white cliffs. At the time, they represented freedom to me. Now, of course, they represent home.”
“Yes, I recall seeing the cliffs when my ship first neared land,” Celia replied. Her hands clenched in her lap, fingers knotted together. Had she made a mistake? Agreeing to come here could set her on a dangerous course, but how could she refuse?
Thank God I am not alone, she thought, but there was little comfort in the reminder. If Northington was bold enough to take liberties in an alcove outside a crowded ballroom, what hope had she of keeping him at bay on his own estate?
