Part 5 (1/2)
That put Hetty instantly on her guard. Celia never asked for anyone's help. She had some fool notion she was an independent woman. ”What do you wish from me?”
”I'd like you to add the duke and the viscount to the guest list for the upcoming house party. Having them visit here will make it easier for me to determine their intentions.”
”And bring them up to snuff?” Hetty prodded.
Her granddaughter bristled. ”I've no doubt they'll all make offers if given the chance,” she said hotly. ”They are half in love with me already.”
”And what about you? Are you half in love with them?”
Celia's eyes glittered. ”I didn't think love was part of this equation, Gran.”
”It most certainly is. Do not mistake that. I want you to marry for love.”
Seizing Hetty's hand, Celia turned earnest. ”Then don't give me a deadline. Let me do it in my own way.”
”As you have been until now, keeping every man at arm's length, scaring them away with your target shooting?” Gran shook her head. ”You cannot fall in love if you do not let a man close. And you will not let a man close unless you have a reason. I know you. If I rescind that ultimatum, you will bury yourself on this estate and never come out.”
A sad smile crossed Celia's face. ”I told him you'd say that.”
”Who?”
”It doesn't matter.” Celia drew a heavy breath. ”So will you add them? Two more guests can hardly make much difference.”
Hetty stared at her. ”Maria wanted it to be a more private affair, only Oliver's closest friends and family, since she is so far along in her confinement and can't see to the guests the way she would like.”
”I thought that was why you and Minerva and Virginia were doing most of the work,” Celia retorted.
”Well, yes, but-”
”And the duke is a friend of the family. He may be more a friend of Gabe's than Oliver's, but I don't think Oliver or Maria would mind.”
”They might mind having that foreigner Basto wandering the house.”
”Do you want me to marry or not?”
Hetty clutched her cane. ”I tell you what. I shall include them if you will reveal what you discussed with Mr. Pinter in the drawing room.”
”I already told you-”
”Nonsense. He said something about having an obligation to you.”
”Yes. An obligation to research my suitors.”
”Nothing more?”
Guilty color rose in her granddaughter's cheeks. ”Why would you think there was anything more between me and Mr. Pinter?”
Because you blush when his name is mentioned. Because he follows you with his eyes. Because I do not know what to make of him, and that worries me.
It was always better to play dumb until one had all the facts. ”Is he to be invited to this house party?”
”Of course,” Celia said with false-sounding lightness in her voice. ”It's the best way for him to discover information about my suitors.”
”Then I hope the man has appropriate clothing for the affair. I doubt that Bow Street Runners wear the sort of evening attire suitable for dining with dukes and marquesses.”
A frown knit Celia's brow. ”I hadn't thought of that.”
Good. It was time she considered such things if she had any romantic interest in the man. ”Well, no matter.” She waved a hand dismissively. ”Considering the large fee he charges, I am sure he can afford to buy what he needs.”
”I-I didn't mean for him to suffer any financial burden over this.” Celia's face showed a worrisome amount of concern for the strain on Mr. Pinter's pocketbook.
Hetty levied a searching glance on her. ”Should I invite his aunt as well?”
Celia looked genuinely confused. ”I don't see why. This is no social visit. He'll be here to work.”
”Of course.” Hetty let out a breath. Perhaps everything was just as it appeared. Though the girl seemed to be up to something suspicious, it didn't seem to involve any deep feelings for Mr. Pinter.
Now if only she could be as sure about Mr. Pinter's feelings for Celia ...
STILL BROODING OVER his unsettling bargain with Lady Celia, Jackson hurried into his uncle's house in Cheapside and headed for his study. He had less than an hour to be at his office to meet with his client, and he had to pick up the report he'd promised the man.
”Jackson!” Aunt Ada called to him from the parlor.
”Not now, Aunt,” he barked. ”I'm late.”
Ada Pinter Norris came out into the hall, a wiry little bundle of sheer will. It sometimes amazed him that she and his mother had been sisters. Mother had been tall and dark like him, while the top of Aunt Ada's graying blond head barely reached his shoulder. ”Have you eaten? Don't answer that-I know you haven't.”
He entered his study and scanned his desk but didn't see the papers. ”I have to be at the office by-”
”Is this what you're looking for?” she asked.
He turned to find her waving a sheaf of paper. ”Yes, thanks.”
But when he reached for it, she shoved it behind her back. ”Not until you eat.”
”Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Aunt Ada-”
”None of that swearing, now. If you mean to be chosen as Chief Magistrate, you can't talk like a dockworker.”
With a lift of his eyebrow, he held out his hand. ”I won't be chosen as anything if I don't satisfy those who require my help.”
”Humph. They can wait a few minutes.” Her eyes glittered a warning. ”I mean it. Don't make me throw these in the fire.”
He flashed her his darkest scowl. ”You wouldn't dare.”
She set her shoulders. ”Try me. And while those black looks of yours might intimidate criminals, they won't work on me. They didn't when you were ten, so they certainly won't now.”
”Then I'll have to resort to force.” He fought a smile as he stalked toward her. ”I outweigh you by a good five stone. I could s.n.a.t.c.h those papers before you got anywhere near a fire.”
”I could bash you over the head with a skillet, too.”