The Unexpected Wife - Jess Michaels Page 0,40
excited to hear Celeste’s report on it.” Abigail smiled again at Celeste and then moved toward the door. “I will not keep you. Good day.”
She left them then, shutting the door behind herself most inappropriately. And now that they were alone Celeste couldn’t help but feel…awkward. All this talk of fun and pleasure and naughty desires made her look at Owen in a most inappropriate way.
“Are you well?” Owen asked.
She jolted at the question, as well as the concerned expression on his face. “Yes. Yes, of course. How are…how are you?”
He chuckled. “I’m very well.”
She nodded and paced away, wishing her hands didn’t shake so much.
He was watching her. She felt his stare boring into her back. “Celeste, have a few days apart changed that we are friends?”
She pivoted back and found he had a truly concerned expression. “No, of course not. I am sorry, I know I’m behaving out of sorts.”
“And why is that?” he pressed gently.
“Because being around you makes me…nervous.”
He stared at her for what felt like forever, though it couldn’t have been more than a second or two. Then he moved toward her. “That doesn’t bode very well,” he said softly as he reached for her hand. She wasn’t wearing gloves and he had removed his before he entered the room. His palm was rough against hers, his fingers tracing a pattern on her palm that made her shiver.
“You needn’t be nervous about me, Celeste,” he said, watching her face for every reaction to his touch. “Because I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to do. I promise.”
Her lips parted as she stared up into his face. His pupils were dilated, the pressure of his fingers increased and for a brief, powerful moment she thought he might kiss her again. She wanted him to kiss her again.
But he stepped away instead, releasing her from his grip and his spell. “Now let us talk about today. I didn’t make solid plans because I wasn’t certain if you had reached out to your friends in Town. Are we going to Lady Lena’s Salon?”
She swallowed. “Er, no. I only just sent my letter to Harriet this morning.”
His brows lifted in surprise, but he said nothing about it, just smiled as he motioned toward the door. “Then we can carry on. Are you ready?”
“I am,” she said, but as she followed him from the room, she knew that was a lie. She wasn’t ready, not at all. Not for him, not for London and not for the things she wanted that were beginning to squeeze all other thought and desire from her mind.
Unlike the first time he’d toured her in his phaeton when she’d all but tumbled from the carriage in delight, today Celeste had been quiet on the ride across London. She was restless, listless, and he wanted desperately to fix it, foolish as that inclination might be.
But he still wondered what had caused this particular hesitation in her.
“Do you want to tell me why you didn’t write to your friend earlier than today?”
She blinked and her gaze slid to him furtively, like he had uncovered some horrible secret she had hoped to take to her grave. “I didn’t mean to put you out.”
He wrinkled his brow. “You didn’t. But we spoke about your former governess days ago. I assumed you would be thrilling at the idea of meeting with her again, especially without your parents involving themselves or limiting you.”
Celeste let out a long sigh. “I suppose I must be honest with you after all your kindness. I came home just as excited to reach out as you describe but I sat in my chamber and stared at a blank piece of vellum, just…not knowing what to say.”
“You might try ‘Greetings, old friend, I’m in London and wish to see you,’” he suggested gently.
She folded her arms. “But the real message is ‘Greetings, sophisticated friend, I am in London because my husband turned out to be a murdered bigamist and I am the laughing stock of the city. Do you want to lower yourself to see what I’ve become?’”
He frowned. Celeste was so good at showing her strength. At lifting her chin and making the best of the worst in the world, it was easy to forget that she had to be flailing at the deepest part of an ocean. That she couldn’t picture her future because her past and present were so clouded by lies and gossip and pain.
“I just don’t know my place in this