A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 44 - Forty Four

Through the crack, Lady Farrington saw the Duke lean forward. He whispered something to the cousin.

"Stop tapping your foot," Rowan hissed.

Lady Farrington couldn’t hear the words, but she saw the cousin’s reaction. Miss Kingsley didn’t flinch. She simply turned her head, looked the Duke dead in the eye, and whispered something back.

"Stop looking like you are facing a firing squad," Delaney whispered back.

The Duke rolled his eyes. He sat back, looking annoyed.

Lady Farrington frowned. That was not the interaction of a Duke and a reverent poor relation. That looked like... equals.

"Curious," Lady Farrington whispered. "Very curious."

Before she could analyze it further, she heard the soft rustle of silk behind her.

Lady Farrington straightened up instantly. She stepped away from the door, moving with the practiced ease of a woman who had spent a lifetime managing appearances. She smoothed her expression into a mask of welcoming delight.

She turned around.

Celine was descending the stairs.

It was a vision.

The maid had done her work well. Celine was wearing a dress of celestial blue silk that seemed to float around her body like a cloud. The bodice was modest but flattering, highlighting her youth. Her golden hair was pulled back in a loose, romantic style, secured with a velvet ribbon that matched the dress perfectly.

She looked like a porcelain doll that had been brought to life by a wish. She radiated innocence, sweetness, and undeniable beauty.

Celine reached the bottom of the stairs. She saw her mother standing in the hallway and slowed her pace.

"Mama?" Celine asked, her voice hushed with nerves. She twisted her hands in her skirts. "Is there anything wrong? You look... serious."

Lady Farrington looked at her daughter. She saw the perfect product of twenty one years of cultivation. She saw the future Duchess of Hamilton.

She decided not to mention the odd cousin. She decided not to mention the tension she had sensed in the room. Celine needed confidence, not questions.

"No, my dear," Lady Farrington replied. Her voice was smooth like warm honey.

She reached out and adjusted the pearl necklace at Celine’s throat. Her touch was possessive, maternal, and calculating all at once.

"You look beautiful," Lady Farrington said. "You look like a Queen."

"Thank you," Celine whispered. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "I am so nervous, Mama. My hands are shaking. What if I say something stupid? What if I spill the tea?"

"You will not spill the tea," Lady Farrington said firmly. "You are a Farrington. Grace is in your blood."

She placed her hands on Celine’s shoulders. She turned the girl to face the double doors.

"He is waiting for you," Lady Farrington said. "He came early. He brought a chaperone because he intends to be serious. This is the moment, Celine."

"Yes, Mama."

Lady Farrington leaned in close to her daughter’s ear.

"Charm him," she commanded. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order from a general to her soldier. "Smile. Laugh at his jokes, even if they are not funny. Ask him about his estates. And ignore the cousin. She is irrelevant."

Celine nodded. A bright, genuine smile broke across her face. She didn’t share her mother’s cold calculation. She just wanted to see the handsome man who had made her feel special on the dance floor.

"I will, Mama," she replied happily. "I will make him happy."

Celine stepped forward.

She walked to the double doors. She didn’t hesitate. She placed her small, gloved hands on the wood and pushed.

The doors swung open.

Inside the drawing room, the atmosphere changed instantly.

At the sound of the doors opening, Rowan Hamilton shot up from the sofa as if he had been ejected by a spring.

He had been dreading this. He had spent the last ten minutes sitting in silence with Delaney, feeling the weight of her judgment from across the tea table. Every time he fidgeted, she glared. Every time he sighed, she raised an eyebrow.

But now, the prize was here.

Rowan adjusted his coat. He fixed a polite, charming smile on his face—the smile Delaney had taught him to use.

"Lady Celine Farrington," the butler announced from the hallway.

Celine stepped into the room.

The morning light caught her golden hair, turning it into a halo. The blue dress swirled around her ankles. She stopped just inside the threshold, her hands clasped in front of her, her blue eyes wide and welcoming.

She looked perfect. She looked like a painting of "Springtime."

"Your Grace," Celine said. Her voice was soft, musical, and filled with genuine pleasure. She dipped into a curtsy that was low, graceful, and utterly flawless. "I am so pleased you came."

Rowan walked toward her. He moved with the easy grace of a man who knows he is being watched.

He took her hand. He bowed over it, his lips hovering just an inch above the white glove.

"Lady Celine," Rowan said. His voice was warm. "I could not stay away."

From her chair in the corner, Delaney watched.

She felt like a ghost. She was sitting in the same room, breathing the same air, but she felt invisible.

She watched Rowan take Celine’s hand. She saw the way his eyes softened—or at least, appeared to soften. She saw the way Celine blushed, a becoming shade of rose that clashed with nothing.

Delaney gripped her notebook. The leather cover dug into her palms.

He is doing it, she thought. He is charming her. He is playing the part.

From the hallway, Lady Farrington watched the scene through the door.

She saw the Duke’s attention fixed solely on her daughter. She saw the chemistry—or at least, the aesthetic perfection—of the match.

And she saw the cousin, Miss Kingsley, look away toward the window. She saw the tightness in the woman’s jaw. She saw the way her knuckles were white around that ridiculous notebook.

Lady Farrington smiled. The cousin was uncomfortable. Good. That meant she knew her place.

"Perfect," Lady Farrington whispered.

She waited a beat, allowing the young couple to have their moment, before she stepped into the doorway, her purple silk rustling, ready to play her part in the grand production of securing a Duchy.

"Your Grace!" Lady Farrington boomed, sweeping into the room with her arms outstretched. "What a delightful surprise!"

Rowan turned, his smile fixed. Delaney stood up and curtsied, fading further into the background. And Celine just beamed, unaware that she was the centerpiece of a very complicated game.