AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes, I do have progressive views. But I’m not here to talk about my educational beliefs precisely.” Even though Artemis was impressed that Dominic had been so frank with his daughter, she was fairly certain he wouldn’t want her to discuss the controversial stances of women such as Mary Wollstonecraft, Olympe de Gouges, and Bessie Raynor Parkes. “Your father wondered if it might be worthwhile if I chatted to you aboutyoureducation. If there’s anything you feel that you are missing out on in terms of your own lessons.
“I’ve had a quick conversation with Miss Sharp, but perhaps it would help if you could share with me what you enjoy—or, to be more precise, what particular topics you would like to know more about. Is there something you have a passion for that you haven’t had an opportunity to study?” Artemis moved to the edge of her seat. “I know you do not know me, but whatever you say to me, you can be assured of my utmost discretion. I’m here to offer advice and support. That is all. I believe your father only wants what is best for you.”
Lady Celeste’s expression grew pensive as she regarded Artemis. Or was there a shadow of reluctance or wariness in her eyes? Perhaps even a flicker of resentment. “What’s best for me,” she repeated. She opened her mouth as if to add more, but then the afternoon tea arrived. Once the new tea service had been set out just so, Lady Celeste assumed the role of accomplished hostess, dispensing tea and serving cakes and sandwiches with aplomb. Miss Sharp’s etiquette lessons had clearly been taken on board.
Deciding she might need to take a different tack to help Lady Celeste open up, Artemis drew her into a conversation about novels, particularly those by Jane Austen. She steered clear of talking about Gothic novels, considering they were a bone of contention with both Dominic and Miss Sharp. Artemis didn’t wish to create any discord. By degrees, the duke’s daughter began to smile and chat freely, right up until the point Artemis mentioned she and her two very good friends were members of a book club, and that their favorite pastime was to discuss the novels they loved over tea and cake—just like she and Celeste were doing now. Then a look of sadness and intense longing clouded Lady Celeste’s soft gray eyes.
“Friends…” The duke’s daughter dropped her gaze to the crumbs left upon her cake plate. “Now that is one thing I would like more of,” she murmured. “Actually, having at least one friend would do.”
“Oh…oh, I had no idea, my lady,” stammered Artemis. Her brow knit with confusion and heartfelt remorse. “I’m sorry if I’ve said the wrong thing. It was not my intention to upset you.”
“No. It’s all right. You weren’t to know.” Her mouth twisted into a small wry smile. “Being the daughter of the Dastardly Duke of Dartmoor is not conducive to making friends. My aunt, Lady Northam—that’s Papa’s sister—has tried to help on occasion, but she can only do so much. Once a reputation is tainted so badly…” Lady Celeste shrugged a shoulder.
“Yes, I imagine that has made things extremely difficult for you. You have my sympathy, Lady Celeste.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard all of the horrible gossip and rumors about my parents,” continued Celeste. “Everyone has. Even though I was only six when my dear mama passed away, I do know that my parents loved each other. Very much.” She picked up her teacup but instead of taking a sip, toyed with the handle. Her gaze drifted to the fire and her mouth curved with a soft, sad smile. “I have a memory of them at Ashburn Abbey. It’s like a poignant painting, etched into my mind. Or perhaps I should say photograph. They were sitting before the enormous fire in the drawing room, and Papa was holding Mama in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world. He was stroking her hair…”
She sighed and her gaze returned to Artemis. “I don’t know why I’m saying all of this to you, Miss Jones. I suppose I see something in you that I like. You seem to be a direct, no-nonsense sort of person, and I don’t think you would be here if you believed all the cruel things said about my father. And I want to assure you that none of it is true. Of course, Papa will pretend that he doesn’t suffer, that he’s immune to it all, but that’s not the case. Like me, I think he’s lonely.”
Lonely…Artemis frowned into her tea. She’d never thought of the Duke of Dartmoor as that. He was so vital, almost larger than life. When he walked into a room, the very air around him seemed to vibrate with electrical energy. By all accounts, he was a ruthless business magnate who possessed the wealth of Croesus along with a vast estate. But perhaps on a personal level, hewasisolated, socially shunned by many of his peers. Especially their wives and daughters of marriageable age. And by association, so was Celeste.
Something tugged inside Artemis’s heart in the most peculiar way. To some degree, she knew how it felt to be an outsider. She’d never quite fit in at the Avon Academy. But she’d never felt alone. Not when she had a sister who loved her—despite their differences—and dear friends she could count on, no matter what.
If Lady Celeste was both bored and lonely, it might explain why she’d been testing the boundaries of late. She was looking for something—anything—to divert her.
A short time later, after Artemis had bid farewell to Lady Celeste and Miss Sharp, she began to rack her brain about ways to help the girl find friends of her own age, but she could think of nothing useful. She didn’t move in the same social circles, and if Dominic’s sister had been unable to assist in that regard, it would be virtually impossible for Artemis to make a difference.
As she followed a maid toward the main stairs leading to the entry hall, she heard her name called. “Miss Jones?”
Dominic.
Her heart leaping, she spun around. And there he was, standing by an open set of oak-paneled doors. He was informally attired in a fine cambric shirt, navy silk waistcoat, and gray trousers. His black neckcloth was loosened and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. Good Lord, even Dominic’s forearms with their corded muscles and light dusting of dark hair were mesmerizing.
“Miss Jones,” he repeated, his commanding voice sending a shiver of delicious anticipation through her, “if you could spare a moment, I’d like a word before you leave.” To the chambermaid he said, “Mary, you may go.”
