Surprise rooted Celestine on the spot.
“What did you say?”
One of Mrs. Wicks’s thin eyebrows twitched. “The master has requested for you in the main drawing room.”
So Celestine hadn’t misheard—the duke was truly asking for her. But why would he do that? He had never done so before, so why now? Did she do something wrong?
No, that can’t be it. They just arrived, so they can’t possibly find fault in me or whatever I could’ve done, Celestine thought. If anything, something must have happened.
Something big, it seemed, if the duke was calling for her. The idea sent apprehension to unfurl through her insides.
“Kindly wait outside. I need a few minutes to change,”said Celestine.
Mrs. Wicks scoffed. “He called for you now. Are you telling me you have the audacity to make the duke wait? You?”
You, a mere bastard? Celestine didn’t need to hear the actual words to know this was what she meant.
“Mrs. Wicks, surely you can—“ Lucille began to protest, but Celestine stood up and leveled a quelling gaze at the head maid.
“Yes, I do.”
“Excuse me?”
Celestine took a step forward, a surge of righteous indignation fueling her words. “I said, yes, I do dare to make your master wait. Or are you suggesting I go to him looking like this? I personally don’t care, because everyone will find a way to criticize me either way. But if he asks me why I’m going to him in my bed clothes, shall I say it’s because of you?”
Mrs. Wicks turned scarlet, her mouth agape with incredulity. “You have five minutes,” she spat out the instant she recovered her wits.
“Ten.”
“Ten minutes, then,” Mrs. Wicks uttered then retreated into the hallway in a huff.
Celestine would have congratulated herself for this win had her emotions not been in such a state of turmoil. Sighing, she slumped back into the settee, feeling slightly nauseous now that her courage had began to ebb away and anxiety was rising to the fore once more.
Lucille hurried towards her right after closing the door. “Are you alright, my lady?”
“I’m fine, Lucille. I’m just confused,” Celestine replied as she massaged her temples. “What is this all about? Have you heard of anything? Maybe from Mary or the other staff?”
“No, my lady, the other maids haven’t mentioned anything aside from Lady Honoria’s debut, but…”—Lucille lowered her voice to a whisper before continuing—“…perhaps someone saw you and Lord Silas sneaking out last time?”
Celestine considered this, but shook her head. “It’s been around three weeks since then. I think Silas and I would’ve been confronted and punished even before they had gone to the capital. No, it must be something else, but what is it? What am I missing?”
Wearing a soft look that was almost motherly, Lucille sat down next to Celestine and took her hands. “My lady, you speak as if only something bad could provoke the duke to summon you, and I can understand why, believe me. But what if—what if he merely wants to reach out?”
Reach out? The idea was so ludicrous it almost made Celestine laugh. “Are we talking about the same duke here? The one who’s been ignoring me and my wellbeing for years? The one who had slapped me so hard I had to endure weeks of eating porridge just because I had dared to ask about my mother?”
Lucille visibly flinched. “I understand, my lady, but… people do change. I’ve heard of families who have reconciled after overcoming misunderstandings and challenges.”
“This isn’t just a simple misunderstanding, Lucille. You’ve seen my suffering firsthand. There are certain things that can’t be resolved even amongst family. Words and actions that can’t be taken back. Wounds that run too deep to be overlooked. That door has closed for father and I a long time ago, I’m afraid.”
Celestine hated how resentful she sounded, but she couldn’t pretend to feel otherwise. More importantly, she couldn’t let herself harbor even a sliver of hope—not after getting hurt over and over again from expectations that were never met, questions that were never answered, and feelings that were never reciprocated. No, she deserved the right to be skeptical.
She deserved to protect herself.
I’m stronger now. I can handle whatever they throw at me—whatever censure or insult. Celestine shook her head. “Well, whatever this is about, I’ll be fine. Could you help me change?” Celestine let go of Lucille’s hands to pick up her dress that lay discarded on the settee. “I would like to wear this please.”
*
“There, that should do it.” Lucille secured a blue ribbon around Celestine’s waist as a finishing touch and beamed at her through their reflection. “You look beautiful, my lady.”
Celestine wasn’t sure how to describe the woman next to Lucille in the mirror, but beautiful didn’t seem to be accurate. Her complexion was pale and her eyes were fiercely vigilant, looking like one of the duke’s dogs during a hunt, ready for a fight. The high-necked blue dress she wore brought out her eyes, and only served to magnify their intensity. She had no choice but to let her hair flow down her back and onto her waist in unruly waves; there was simply no time to tame her locks with a brush.
And just as she thought this, she heard a loud rap on the door signaling the end to her ten minutes.
Celestine mouthed her thanks to Lucille, before striding towards the door. “I’m coming.”
Not even bothering to look back, Mrs. Wicks began her march through the hallway as soon as Celestine went out of the room. Silence fell between them, the threadbare carpet muting their footfalls, leaving only the distant chirping of birds as the only sounds to be heard. High windows with faded curtains covered the left wall, and Celestine had to squint at the parts where the fabrics were ripped, allowing the sharp noontime sunlight to pass through.
They reached the marble staircase that signified the end of the West Wing. The white marble steps were immaculately polished, forcing Celestine to place a hand on the ornate golden handrail to prevent her from slipping as they went down. Upon reaching the last step, she saw that there were three maids in the Western Annex parlor room, and instantly recognized them to be those that belonged to Honoria’s staff.
They must have flocked here when they heard the duke had sent for me, Celestine thought grudgingly, feeling the maids’ censorious gazes on her as she passed by them. Trying to get information for their beloved master, huh?
Celestine just exited the parlor room when she abruptly stopped on her tracks.
That must mean even Honoria doesn't know why I’m being invited by the duke.
The uneasiness that Celestine had kept at bay all this time suddenly burst out in waves, filling her ribcage and making it hard for her to breathe. She cast an unsettled glance at the tall baroque door at the end of the long marble hallway—the main drawing room. Two footmen stood on each side of the door, all them wearing the same black livery and blank expressions.
What awaited her inside? Celestine had no idea. All she knew was that it was something significant; she could feel it in her bones.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Wicks glared at her from over her broad shoulder.
Celestine’s pulse thundered against her veins, but she tilted her chin upward and put on a brave face. “Nothing,” she said, continuing onward, her heart pounding in time with her strides.
Tip. Thump. Tap. Thump.
Tip. Thump. Tap. Thump. Tip. Thump. Tap. Thump.
It only took Celestine two or so minutes to cross the distance to the drawing room, and she instantly wished the hallway was longer. Her palms grew clammy as the footman knocked precisely on the heavy oak door.
“Ms. Celestine is here, Your Grace.”
“Send her in.” The reply was slightly muffled, but there was no mistaking who it belonged to.
The heavy door opened with a creak. Sitting on a high wingback chair in the middle of the room was the Grand Duke of Norfolk, looking as if he had come out of one of his portraits in the gallery. Not a strand of his honey blond hair was out of place. Not a wrinkle could be found in his clawhammer tailcoat or buckskin breeches. His cerulean eyes narrowed in disdain in that way that he only seemed to reserve for her.
Ah, yes. This was truly the duke. He was as flawless and as cold as Celestine remembered.
“My lord,” Celestine managed to say above the wild pitter-patter of her heart. She curtsied, then noticed a movement to her right. There was someone else on the other wingback chair, but she couldn’t see anything since it was facing the duke’s direction.
Celestine turned her attention to the duke, then felt the blood drain from her face.
For the first time in her life, she was seeing the duke smile at her.
“Come in, child. This won’t be long.”
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