Free A Rake’s Guide to Seduction by Caroline Linden Page B

clung to the familiarity of Kenlington Abbey. She had lived there for four years, after all, and had grown accustomed to its quiet.
    London had lost its appeal. She feared her memories of town would be dominated by her first and only Season, when Bertie had swept into her life with daily bouquets of flowers and sonnets to her eyes. He had courted her so ardently, so devotedly, so romantically. Almost before she knew it, he had been going down on his knee and begging her to marry him.
    It took her two years to realize that her love for Bertie had never been as strong as on that day, when she accepted him. Celia had always believed in true love at first sight. It hadn’t bothered her that she had known Bertie only two months before they were married. It had never occurred to her that while it might be enough time to fall in love, it was not quite enough time to really know someone. Foolishly, she had assumed they could spend the rest of their life together getting to know each other. Instead, it seemed that she and Bertie never really knew each other at all.
    Only on looking back did Celia realize that Bertie’s merry laugh rang out more often in crowds. He didn’t like solitary pursuits, and while one person’s company could be sufficient to entertain him, that person had better be an extraordinarily interesting person. Celia, it turned out, had not been interesting enough. If Bertie had to choose between a quiet evening home alone with his wife and a night of drinking with strangers at the local pub, he would choose the pub every time. Celia had still tried to be a good wife to him. She just didn’t like him as much as she had thought.
    But that was her fault. No one had forced her to choose Bertie, and she had tried to make the best of things. The best just hadn’t been very good.
    His father’s demand that they live in the country in anticipation of a child, a son and heir, had only worsened the situation. Perhaps in town, Celia thought, there would have been enough happening around them to carry both of them through. If they had been in the midst of entertaining society, they might not have noticed, or perhaps not cared, that they were unsuited to each other. She found Bertie tiresome, and she suspected he found her dull. Soon enough there was little reason to anticipate a child of any gender, but Lord Lansborough insisted they remain. He controlled the funds, so they had remained.
    She wondered if Lord Lansborough had known Bertie’s true nature. Perhaps he thought that forcing Bertie to stay at Kenlington would eventually overcome his son’s desire for society and entertainment. He had been so displeased with Bertie’s lack of interest in running the estate, and yet Celia couldn’t help noticing that Lord Lansborough had been very particular about matters. The few times Bertie had done something, Lord Lansborough had always taken him to task over it. In fairness to Bertie, he must have thought he could never please his father.
    And that had left her stuck in the middle. She knew Lord Lansborough had hounded Bertie mercilessly about producing an heir. Celia truly hoped that, and not her own person, was behind Bertie’s lack of interest in making love to her. She had quite liked that part of marriage, but her interest in lovemaking had dwindled with her affection for Bertie. Certainly after the affair in York, Bertie had never again come to her bed.
    She was still sitting there, thinking, when her mother found her. “There you are,” cried Rosalind. She swept Celia into an embrace, pressing her cheek to Celia’s. “You weren’t at breakfast, and Agnes said she didn’t bring a tray. Are you feeling ill?”
    “No, Mama.” Just a little heartsick. She forced a smile. “I am out of sorts from the journey still.”
    Her mother’s blue eyes scrutinized her face. “You must eat, dearest. You’re much too thin as it is. Shall I have Cook prepare some currant buns?”
    “No, Mama.”
    “Some scones?