she, though?” Henry said without thinking then winced to himself. His comment was more telling than he had planned. Unfortunately, the more he grew to know Katherine, the less he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. He’d never been engaged before but he was fairly certain one should not think of one’s future wife as shallow, vain and selfish. Worse, while she had seemed to adore him initially, now her feelings struck him as more rehearsed than genuine.
The fact of the matter was that he and Katherine shared no common ground. There was nothing Henry enjoyed more than immersing himself in a good book. Katherine disdained literature, preferring ladies’ magazines, more for the fashion than any literary offerings. Henry preferred a quiet life with no more than a moderate number of social functions, whereas much of Katherine’s talk of the future centered around the parties and soirees and balls they would attend after their marriage. Henry enjoyed museums and galleries and was intrigued by new artists. Katherine thought history was best left in the past and her idea of fine art was something created by a prestigious artist that looked nice on a wall. Aside from preparations for the wedding, much of her time was spent with her aunt and sister Louise planning how to decorate his house in London and discussions of what kind of grand house she wished him to build in the country. Henry had never particularly thought about money—although it was nice to have—and while he’d never been especially frugal, neither did he spend with wild abandon. Katherine was freely spending his family’s money for the week’s festivities. Admittedly, it was understandable given her own family’s finances, and while Henry did not begrudge her that, he did hope this was just a momentary indulgence on her part. He feared he was wrong.
“My apologies, Mrs. Blodgett, but I’m afraid I’m confused. I would have assumed you knew Katherine, as well as the rest of the family, quite well.”
“One would assume that.” Mrs. Blodgett studied Celia sitting across the table from them, talking in an animated manner to Mrs. Higginbotham. “My sister was Celia’s mother. Unfortunately, after her death, I was not able to see my niece as often as I would have liked.”
“I gather you regret that.”
A wry smile curved her lips. “You are remarkably perceptive, Henry.”
“Some things are obvious, Mrs. Blodgett.” He smiled, his gaze following hers. “At least to me.”
Try as he might, he could not keep his thoughts off Katherine’s youngest sister. Fair-haired and petite in stature, Celia wasn’t as stunning as Katherine, but simply quite lovely in a quiet sort of way. There was something about Celia Bromley that was almost irresistible. Henry couldn’t truly describe it and was afraid to try. From the moment he’d met her, quite by accident at one of his favorite booksellers’, the moment he’d looked into her blue eyes, something inside of him had clicked like the turn of a key in a lock, as if all the puzzle pieces of his life had abruptly snapped into place. He’d had the strangest sense of recognition somewhere deep in his soul, as if they’d been destined to meet or had met before or had known each other always. The French called it coup de foudre, a bolt of lightning. Love at first sight. It was absurd of course. Only the French would give credence to such a thing. Silly, spontaneous feelings that struck without warning were certainly not to be trusted, not by a rational, sensible man.
Regardless, he’d found himself returning to the bookseller’s more frequently than was his habit in hopes of meeting her again. It was hopeless, really—he didn’t even know her name. Henry put any thought of her out of his mind and managed to convince himself whatever he had experienced was due no doubt to the onset of a cold or something he’d eaten that had disagreed with him, or simply dwelling on the incident gave it more importance than it warranted. Then he met Katherine and his life changed irrevocably. It wasn’t until he’d already asked for her hand that he was introduced to her sisters and realized the awful, glaring truth. His brief encounter was his new fiancée’s younger half sister. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been so susceptible to Katherine’s charms because somewhere deep inside he was mourning the loss of something he’d never had.
Neither of them acknowledged their previous encounter, at least not aloud. What difference did it make anyway? It was too late. He was to marry her sister and no matter what feelings Celia Bromley might stir inside him, there could be nothing between them. Still, in spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering in her direction. Couldn’t stop the odd twisting of his heart when she was near. Couldn’t prevent thoughts of her that lingered in his mind and invaded his dreams. Without warning, Celia turned her head and her gaze met his. For a moment, it was as if all the air had rushed out of the room. As always, the look in her eyes was a reflection of his own—a mix of caution and longing and resignation. Not that either of them had ever admitted such a thing. Nor would they.
“Indeed, Henry, some things are more than obvious.”
His gaze snapped back to Mrs. Blodgett and at once he realized his mistake. A truly innocent man would not have taken her casual comment as an indictment. But Mrs. Blodgett simply smiled in an innocuous manner and promptly changed the subject. “Your brother says you are quite interested in antiquities and all things ancient.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Indeed I am.”
“My husband and some of his associates have been discussing an expedition to find the lost city of Troy.”
“Really?” Henry stared. “What an extraordinary adventure that would be.”
“Charles is a most adventurous sort and the more extraordinary the better.” She smiled in an affectionate manner.
“You must miss him when he’s away on his extraordinary adventures.”
“Indeed I do but someday I shall wear down his resistance and he shall take me with him.”
“But you’re a woman.”
“How clever of you to notice, Henry.”
“My apologies, I didn’t mean—”
“No apology needed.” She waved off his comment. “Even in these modern times, the idea of a woman traveling anywhere not considered completely civilized is unthinkable. I do hope that will change one day but I am not overly optimistic. It is universally accepted that a woman’s place is to be safely left behind to tend to house and home.”
“And you disagree with that?” Caution edged his voice.
“Not entirely but even the most content among us can occasionally long for something a little more exciting. For now, I suppose we need to console ourselves with adventures of a less extraordinary nature.” She smiled. “Walking down the path of life hand in hand with the right person is something of an adventure in and of itself. When one’s heart is engaged—” she glanced down the table at Katherine “—it can be the most extraordinary adventure of all.”
“No doubt,” Henry said faintly.
It was bad enough to realize one wasn’t in love with the woman one was committed to marry, but to accept the awful growing conviction that one didn’t especially like her was much worse. But even that paled in the face of the horrible truth of the matter.
Henry Saunders had indeed found the love of his life and there was nothing he could do about it.
WHAT AN ABSURD SITUATION. What a ridiculous thing to have happened.
Celia Bromley paced the width of the room allotted her in Danby Manor. She wasn’t sure how it had happened—it certainly wasn’t intentional. Fate was no doubt to blame. Of course, if one believed in fate, then this was even worse as—
A knock sounded at her door.
“Come in,” she said with relief. A distraction from her own thoughts would be most welcome.
The door opened and Aunt Guinevere popped her head in. “Are you busy, Celia? Might I join you