A Spinster's Luck Read Free

her.
    With her coffee-colored hair and hazel eyes, the duchess greatly resembled her brother, Drake, in countenance, though she appeared petite and almost fragile in her lavender tea gown compared to her brother’s large-boned masculinity.
    â€œI can see you two are almost presentable,” Imogene observed with a smile, approaching her eldest son and straightening his lapel fondly.
    â€œMother, why doesn’t Celly have tea with us when Uncle Drake is here?” Henry queried. This subject had been on his mind of late, and Henry’s brow furrowed from concern. He felt Celly was one of the family, and it did not seem right to him that she did not come to any of the meals when Uncle Drake was visiting.
    The duchess gave Celia a disconcerted look. She knew Celia felt uncomfortable around Drake and took measures to avoid him during his stays. But how could the boys be made to understand this?
    As she gave a last flick of the brush to Peter’s hair, Celia flashed a helpless smile back to Imogene. The boys had been questioning Celia since returning from the pond, and she felt at a loss as to what to tell them.
    A mischievous smile raised a dimple at the corner of Celia’s mouth. She tried to imagine how they would respond if she said, “I have no tolerance for your arrogant and heartless uncle. And even if I did, he would raise a disgusted brow if a mere governess were so familiar as to join him for tea.” No, that would not do, she thought with a mental shake of her head. Especially with Henry. He would never stop asking questions until he was satisfied with the answers. Celia knew something had to be said, and since Imogene didn’t seem inclined to offer a response, the job was left to her.
    â€œI am sure your uncle would like to spend some time with the two of you without me tagging along.” It was as good a response as any to offer, she thought as she put away the hairbrush.
    Henry gave Celia a level gaze with his surprisingly mature blue eyes. “Mother is always there at mealtimes when Uncle Drake visits,” he pointed out logically.
    What could she say to that? Celia wondered in dismay, looking around the cozy nursery for a clue. At thirteen, Henry would not easily be fobbed off with evasions. Imogene, Henry, and Peter stood in the middle of the room, staring at her expectantly.
    With an inward sigh, Celia decided to be straightforward with her charges. “Henry,” she began carefully, “it just would not be seemly for me to join you and your uncle at mealtimes. After all, I am not a member of the family, and your uncle is the Duke of Sev—”
    â€œYes you are too family!” interrupted eleven-year-old Peter. He looked at his mother and older brother with wide brown eyes, not understanding how Celly could say such a thing.
    â€œ
I
am the Duke of Harbrooke,” Henry said, and for the first time in his young life he sounded like it. “Mother and Grandmama are both duchesses. You
always
eat with us unless Uncle Drake is here.”
    â€œSuch a fuss over nothing.” Imogene, seeing this conversation was not progressing well, stepped forward. “Celia just means that she does not know Uncle Drake, and he, of course, does not know her. Really, we can’t expect him to love Celly as we do. Besides, the only time Celly gets a chance to read or sew is when you two are otherwise occupied. My goodness, I did not realize how selfish you two have become! Uncle Drake is waiting for you. Now run along, and I shall be down presently.”
    This seemed to satisfy Peter, but Henry still frowned, though neither one said anything as they left the room. Both women sighed in relief as the door shut behind them.
    â€œMy, you’ve been having a time of it, haven’t you?” Imogene observed as she seated herself before the fireplace and watched Celia pick up the boys’ discarded clothing.
    â€œYes, rather.” Celia laughed, a lovely,