A Spinster's Luck Read Free Page B

frown on her brow. Edna must be ill if her butler came all the way to Harbrooke to see if Celia would visit.
    â€œI don’t know how you can abide that gloomy place. It would fair give me the shivers, even in the light of day,” Imogene said, emphasizing her point with a good shudder.
    â€œIt’s not so bad when you’ve been there a few times. The house reminds me of an old woman who was once a great beauty. You can still see vestiges of her loveliness in unexpected ways,” she said thoughtfully, sadness touching her lovely eyes.
    Imogene looked at her friend with some surprise.“You really are fond of the place and old Miss Forbisher, aren’t you? It’s not just a duty to you.”
    â€œOh, no, I look forward to my time with Edna. She wasn’t always this way. Once, she led an interesting life.”
    And it was sad—sad to be old and lonely with no family. Knowing that her friend would strongly disagree, Celia did not tell Imogene that she felt an affinity with Edna Forbisher. Celia knew she could very easily end up the same way as the old woman.
    That evening, Celia had her dinner on a tray in her room, her usual practice during the duke’s visits. After several hours of unaccustomed inactivity, Celia soon tired of her pretty cream and blue room. Setting aside a pair of stockings she was darning, Celia rose from the chair by the fire, deciding to seek a book from the library before retiring.
    Avoiding the duke had never proved a difficulty. She would just take the servants’ stairs and ask one of the maids for the duke’s whereabouts. If he was not in the library, she would dash in, choose a book, and be back in her room in a trice.
    All went according to plan until she stepped from the library, holding the prized book.
    â€œAh, just the person I was hoping to see,” came a deep voice from down the hall.
    Celia froze in terror, feeling as if she had been caught trying to steal the crown jewels. Why did she always have this reaction to him? she wondered, annoyed at herself for reacting so. It was as if she were ten years younger and he still had the power to throw her out.
    She took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes, your grace?” she asked, turning toward him with a quick curtsy. Celia was a tall girl, but she still had to look up to see his face. She saw that he was dressed for dinner in a coat of Spanish blue superfine, well molded to his broad shoulders. His waistcoat was a cream-colored brocade picked out in blue thread, and his beige trousers hugged his muscular, well-defined legs all the way to the ankles. He wore his dark hair slightly long and styled in the fashionablewindswept mode. She could not help perceiving that he evidenced the epitome of manly elegance.
    Celia always found the duke’s appearance a bit jolting, for his face proved a masculine version of his sister’s countenance. She noted a square jaw with a slightly cleft chin, a straight, aristocratic nose, and darkly fringed hazel eyes. A small, jagged scar marred the high plain of his right cheekbone, but she thought it suited the rakish air that surrounded him. His smile was dashing, she knew, for she had noticed it once when she had chanced to see him playing with his nephews in the garden.
    Despite the languidness of his stance, Celia sensed something assessing in his eyes. It occurred to her that beneath his polished and urbane exterior, his grace was a formidable man.
    â€œMay we speak in the library?” He gestured toward the room, pleased that coincidence finally presented him with the opportunity to take a closer look at the young figure that had intrigued him earlier in the day.
    â€œOf course.” She stepped past him to stand in the middle of the library, feeling curiosity surface through her fear. Why in the world would he wish to speak to her?
    The duke walked to the fireplace and stood with his back to it, facing her. He scrutinized the young woman before