A Spinster's Luck by Rhonda Woodward Read Free Book Online Page A

these situations with urbanity. Surely, the years must have assuaged any pain he may have felt?”
    â€œI’m sure you are right, and I know I’m being a silly goose. He has probably completely forgotten my existence by now.”
    â€œI very much doubt that. But by now, he probably has forgiven you for marrying the man you loved,” Celia said reassuringly.
    â€œI hope so.” She proceeded to tell Celia the whole story, ending with the scene at Chesterfield House.
    Celia, who was very romantic underneath her veil of practicality, was enthralled by the tale. It sounded so heart-rending and exciting that her heart fairly broke for both of them. Secretly, she had never found Imogene’s account of her romance with Philip very romantic. Ofcourse, she would never say so to Imy, and truly, Imy had loved Philip deeply.
    They discussed plans for Major Rotham’s arrival, and Celia told her of her stay at Harford Abbey.
    â€œI would like to renew my plans to go to the village tomorrow, if you wouldn’t mind,” Celia declared.
    â€œGo right ahead, my dear. I’m sure you would like a little time of your own after spending the last few days in that gloomy house. Now I must go speak to Cook.”
    As she walked from the village of Harford’s only lending library to Finchley’s shop, Celia felt a sense of well-being that had not been present for some days now. She also felt quite pleased with herself. Edna was better, the day was fine, and she had been able to completely avoid the duke yesterday. It had been easy too, she thought, allowing herself a satisfied smile.
    March had arrived and the days were already becoming warmer. The ground was muddy only in low spots, so Celia had decided to walk from Harbrooke instead of taking the carriage to the village. Many people spoke to her as she meandered along the sidewalk, looking into shop windows.
    Plump Mrs. Adelforth stopped to ask after everyone at Harbrooke, and as Celia responded, a black phaeton with scarlet wheel spokes caught her attention as it turned down the lane. From the corner of her eye, Celia watched the vehicle pass with a sinking heart, hoping the duke would not see her and stop.
    After the phaeton reached the end of the lane, Celia sighed in relief and took her leave of Mrs. Adelforth. She would choose her fabric and leave the village quickly, lest she encounter the duke.
    Severly had indeed noticed Celia’s slim figure as she stood on the sidewalk. After a moment, he decided that the girl would probably have given him the cut direct if he had stopped and tried to address her. His finely shaped mouth firmed in a line of irritation as he tooled his horse down the lane. He was annoyed with himself for being so curious about his nephews’ governess andirritated with the chit for being so elusive. It was just his pride, he knew, that made him so interested in the girl.
    After all, since reaching his majority, he had grown accustomed to the most beautiful women in London fawning over him. All things considered, he was not a vain man. It was just the way life had been for him. So for a governess to snub him was rather lowering to his address. Besides, he really could see no reason for it. On the rare occasions that he had ever spoken to Celia, he had been nothing but polite. It was dashed queer in his opinion, and he’d never been able to resist a challenge.
    Pulling his horses to a stop and turning the reins over to Johnny, his tiger, he leaped with agility from the conveyance, and turned back in the direction he had seen Celia walk.
    The humble villagers were soon agog at seeing the redoubtable Duke of Severly walking the quaint streets of Harford. The attention did not faze the duke’s urbanity. Accustomed to causing a stir wherever he went, he strolled along the village street, nodding to those who had the temerity to address him.
    As he passed the mantua maker’s shop, he paused to take a pinch of snuff.