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“Very dramatic,” Elliot murmured. “Were those words taken from one of your plays?”
His question made the appearance of her tears abruptly stop.
“Oh! You do not believe a word I say.”
“When someone cries genuinely, it is not so easy to stop, for one thing.” He gestured to her face, showing he could see through her act now.
This is the problem with an actress. She is good at making you believe something that is not real.
“I miss you, Your Grace. I do. Please, resume your visits to me,” she pleaded, and stepped toward him again, but Elliot stepped back from her.
“I cannot.” He shook his head firmly. “Celeste, I beg you to hear me clearly. I gave you a goodbye. I came to you and said it in person. I was not so heartless as to do it by letter, but what we had is over. I am not so great a fool either as to think your care for me extended beyond anything other than a coveting of my position.”
“Cruel man! Vain man, too,” she protested, stepping toward him again.
“If you did care, then explain this to me. Why did you throw that wine glass at me?” Elliot asked, reminding her of the last time they had seen one another. She had smashed it on the wall. “I wonder where you were really aiming that day, and if you intended it to hit me?”
“Would I really be so hurtful?” She tilted her head up toward him, with plain innocence.
“I am not so sure.”
He’d had enough of this. Celeste had been troublesome for the last week or so, turning up at his house periodically, trying her best to see him, and leaving so many messages with the butler that Mr Wilder was growing uncomfortable. The poor man frequently blushed red in Ophelia’s presence, clearly feeling guilty for keeping secrets.
Fearful he would be seen to be betraying his wife, Elliot had confided in Mr Wilder that Celeste was a connection of the past, but someone to be kept at arm’s length now. He wasn’t certain the butler believed him.
Elliot knew he had to make Celeste desist somehow. He had been patient, putting up with her messages, and even sending one in reply begging her to leave him alone, but she did not abide by his wishes. He was desperate to end the matter.
“Celeste, I cannot bear this anymore.” He stepped back from her, keen to keep the distance between them. “I will speak the entire truth to you, in the hope it will persuade you to leave me alone. I love my wife.”
Celeste’s eyes widened, then she shook her head. “No, you can’t.”
“Pah! Really? That is all you can say?” He tilted backward, reeling at her dismissal. It was as if he had told her of something menial, like his preference for a certain cake, rather than the deepest feeling in his heart. “I’ll speak plainer still, then. I love my wife and intend to be with her, alone. I do not now or ever intend to have a mistress again. Choose another high-ranking gentleman to be your next man. Forget the association you and I had together.”
“I cannot.” She lifted her chin higher. “What you do not realise, Your Grace, is that we are bound together forever now. Completely.”
“Why is that?” he asked impatiently. “Because we spent a few months together? That is hardly a bond for life. I indulged in my loneliness and sought out you as a distraction when I was stressed about money. You merely hoped to use a connection to a duke to advance your position, did you not?”
She didn’t deny it, only shrugged. It was as good as an admittance.
“That does not bind us for life,” he reiterated. “Now, let these be our last words on this subject. I am returning inside to be with my wife. I will sit with her and take her hand, and she is the only lady’s hand I will ever take in such a way again. I will hear no more messages from you. There will be no more visits to my home. That is the end of the matter.”
Elliot turned on his heel and headed for the door that led back into the theatre. He was now beginning to think himself an imbecile for coming out here at all. When the attendant had told him of Celeste’s wish to see him, he had panicked. The attendant had made it clear that Celeste was prepared to appear in their box if he did not come and see her. Desperate to keep Ophelia safe from the pain of seeing Celeste, he had agreed to come.
Yet, what good really came from this? If Celeste persists in this manner, I cannot keep it a secret for long, can I?
Celeste’s early visits and messages had been easier to hide, for he had thought they would soon end. If he brushed them under the rug, then they did not need to disturb the happiness he and Ophelia had been sharing.
Things have been going so well between us. I do not wish to rock that boat.
“Your Grace?” Celeste called to him, making him hesitate in the doorway. “Before you go, there is one more thing I must say to you.”
“Then make it quick.” He turned to face her, watching as she approached him. There was a swing in her step, as if she quite delighted in what she was about to tell him.
“I think it may shock you.”
“Speak your mind, Celeste, and make it quick. I wish to return to my wife.”
“Then listen closely.”
