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It was unnerving, but Celia managed a careless laugh and shrug when they joined the others. Carolyn and even Olivia expressed admiration for her daring.
“But you are every bit as agile as the gypsy girl,” Carolyn said with enthusiasm, and her eyes were admiring. “I am too clumsy to dance so beautifully.”
The gypsy girl, Marita, was not as complimentary. She shrugged, and her tone was grudging. “You would never be mistaken for me or Rosa, but you are not so very bad.”
Celia met the girl’s narrowed gaze with a coolly lifted brow and smile. “I don’t think you have to worry about me trying to take your place,” she said, and saw that Marita understood her meaning.
She slid a sly glance toward Northington, and leaned close to say softly, “The señor seems to prefer women of fire, not ice, so I do not think you will be given a chance to take my place, señorita!”
Celia was saved from a reply by Jacqueline, who put a hand upon her arm and said, “We’re going inside where it’s warmer, my dear. Do come and join us, for the night is growing quite cool.”
Damn him, Celia thought angrily as Northington took Marita’s arm to join Santiago and the others, all speaking in that strange sort of Spanish. It was obvious they were all very familiar with one another. He even looked like one of them, with his dark skin and hair, garbed in snug trousers and a loose white shirt. And he had looked as if he enjoyed the dance with Marita, as lithe as she, and with the same kind of casual sensuality.
Celia followed her cousin and Mrs. Pemberton and her niece inside, glad that Northington stayed out on the terrace with the gypsies. Why should I care what he does? It was so ridiculous, and she wished now that she hadn’t agreed to come. Olivia Freestone was fraying her temper, and even sweet Caro, with her big eyes and lively nature, was making her fret with her ingenuous chatter.
“Oh, how lovely it is here,” Carolyn said as she sank into a chair and sipped a cup of mulled wine. “Don’t you think so, Celia?”
“Yes. It’s quite lovely. But I’m tired after all that dancing. I think I’ll retire for the evening. You’ll forgive me for abandoning you, I hope. Please make my apologies to Lord Northington.”
Though she said it with a smile, she had no intention of being coaxed to remain, and despite Jacqueline’s faint protest and worried eyes, she made her way up the stairs to the chamber she had been given to use. Janey was there, Lily having remained in London, and Celia was tempted to send her away. The girl was inept at best but tried hard, so she bit her lip and allowed Janey to help her.
“I saw you out the window,” Janey offered shyly, “and I thought you were the best one, Miss St. Clair.”
“Did you? I’m sure there are others who’ll disagree with you, but thank you for your kind words, Janey. No, I’ll brush my own hair. Later, please go down and retrieve my hairpins from the terrace.”
“Yes, Miss. The pearl ones?”
“Yes. After you turn down my bed, you’re free to go for the evening. You must be very tired.”
She wanted only to be alone, to think, to reflect on how best to extract herself gracefully from this awkward situation. It had been very foolish to come here, where she knew he would be waiting for her to let down her guard, yet she’d allowed Jacqueline to talk her into it.
And, she realized with a shock, she had let down her guard more than she’d ever thought she would. She’d felt not just anger, but a spark of jealousy when he’d danced with Marita, that swift, encompassing pang of realization that they knew one another far better than she knew him.
“But I’ve ordered hot water for your bath,” Janey said, reminding Celia she had earlier expressed a desire to bathe before bed. “And the footmen will be bringing up the water soon.”
“Oh. Very well. I’d forgotten…the tub is in this next room?”
Janey nodded. “And a large room it is, with a huge tub that’s partway in the floor, Miss! James, the footman, said it was called a Roman tub, and that the lord had it put in himself. Shocking, I say.”
“Yes. Very shocking. Let me know when the water is ready.”
“Yes, miss.”
Janey opened the door just as a light knock sounded on it, and Carolyn peered into Celia’s room.
“Are you well, Celia?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m just tired. Aren’t you?”
“Yes—and no.” Carolyn’s pretty face was alight with laughter, and she stepped inside when Celia beckoned.
This was the most exuberant Celia had seen Carolyn since she’d arrived in England, and she felt almost ashamed that she hadn’t become better acquainted with her.
“Carolyn,” she asked when it became obvious that she wished to linger. “Would you like to talk?”
Relief flickered on Carolyn’s face for a moment, then she nodded almost eagerly.
“Yes, I would like to. We haven’t really spent much time together, and I know we’re only here this week because Lord Northington had to include us so you would come, and I—well, I’m curious about his intentions, I admit it!”
