Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(62)
Josette’s breezy voice cut through her thoughts. “There you are, love. Plenty of victuals on the sideboard for you. Eat up. You’ll need your strength if you’re to be married to Alec.”
Celia didn’t think her face could become any redder, but a glance at the mirror above the sideboard proved her wrong. She filled her plate with a shaking hand, while Alec chuckled.
Pretending nonchalance, Celia sat across from Alec. The room was small, the table taking most of the space, with the sideboard squeezed into the corner. The table was of fine mahogany with serpentine legs ending in dainty feet, but the chairs were mismatched—some had thick spindles, some had elegant carving, and two were plain chairs that looked like they came from a farmer’s kitchen.
The crockery was mismatched too, with one or two fine pieces of porcelain interspersed with heavier stoneware.
“How is Jenny this morning?” Celia asked Alec as she took a dainty bite of eggs mixed with cheese, finding it quite good.
Another man might grunt something in indifference, but Alec beamed a proud smile. “Cooing and happy. Ate a large breakfast with the appetite of a Highlander. I think she likes being out of the cold mortuary of Lady Flora’s grand mansion.”
Indeed, Lady Flora’s house, while containing the most expensive and tasteful objects of the day, was chill and empty. Josette’s boarding house, in contrast, was cozy, with its worn furniture and small rugs overlapping each other, the smell of cinnamon and coffee overcoming the stench of London outside.
“Would you mind if I looked in on her?” Celia asked as she scooped up another forkful of eggs.
“Why should I mind, love? She’s your stepdaughter now.”
Celia blushed again. “Oh, yes. I suppose she is.”
Josette’s eyes twinkled. “You’ve found yourself an enchanting bride, Lord Alec. From the sound of things coming from upstairs, you’re enchanted with her too. I had several complaints from my regular boarders.”
Alec gave Celia a wink as she heated until she thought her blood would boil. “I don’t think she’s used to unseemly talk at the breakfast table,” he observed. “Or any other table.”
“Nonsense.” Josette lifted a porcelain cup decorated with a spray of roses. “Rapport in the bedroom can lead to rapport in the rest of life. Not that I had that in my first marriage, God rot that man’s poxy soul. I married a scoundrel, my lady. One day he set off for parts unknown and managed to get himself killed. Good riddance, I say.”
She spoke airily, but Celia saw the flash of anger, old pain buried deep.
Celia was curious about Josette’s history, but this was not the time or place to pry. She cleared her throat.
“After I visit with Jenny, we must turn to finding and freeing your brother,” she said to Alec. When Alec and Josette exchanged a swift glance, Celia sent them an exasperated look. “Did you suppose I’d sit in my room by the fire while your brother might be in danger? I told you I could help find him, and I will.”
Alec scowled. “And I remember saying you should stay well out of it.”
“Because my father might be connected to all this? I believe that is why I should involve myself. I don’t believe for a moment Papa is hiding any prisoners, which is why I will ask him straight out.”
Alec held up a hand, which was filled with his coffee cup. “Prudence, love. Let’s not rush to make me dead in truth. The sooner you and Jenny are off to my family in France, the better.”
Celia eyed Alec calmly, though her agitation rose. “We had this argument last night, I believe. I am your wife now. I stay with you. I have no intention of betraying you or your family—I can discover things without ever mentioning your name. As far as my father is concerned, you are Mr. Finn, the drawing master, and now I am Mrs. Finn. For the time being.”
Alec pushed aside his empty plate. “Josette, lass, talk sense into her.”
Josette looked wise. “It is not for me to insert myself into an argument between husband and wife. But consider, Alec. She is well placed to gain information. That is why you decided to give her the drawing lessons in the first place.”
So Alec had implied. I leapt at the chance to have the daughter of the bloody Duke of Crenshaw in my power. Celia sipped her coffee, determined not to feel hurt that she’d been looked upon by Alec and Lady Flora as a means to an end.
“That is before I knew her.” Alec slanted Celia a glance full of heat. “Before she stole my heart away. Now I want no one to touch her, not her mum, not Lady Flora, not her dad. My father is a difficult man, but he’ll honor you as my wife, lass. And Mal and Mary will look after ye well.”
Celia clicked her cup into its saucer. “I am not leaving, Alec, and that is final.”
Alec let out a sigh, but he didn’t appear very surprised. “Aye, well, I suppose this house is safe enough for now. Josette is a good sort, and not fool enough to let slip that a man such as me stays here.”
“Thank you very much,” Josette murmured.
“What ye need to do now, my wife, is write your old dad a letter,” Alec went on. “One that tells him you’re safe and well, so he doesn’t send the army out to tear up London to find ye.”
Celia nodded. “Yes, I want to. I’d not like to concern him unduly.” She spoke as though indifferent, but her heart constricted. She loved her father and knew he would worry. He’d fear that Celia had been abducted—it happened, and vagabonds and thieves could turn violent. Tales of murders and other terrible crimes frequently blared from the pages of the newspapers.