But Julian, who’d known him since their school days, wasn’t fooled. His brow arched.
“Fine?” he echoed, his tone skeptical, swirling his brandy. “Come now, Rhys. You’re dodging. Doing that thing again, aren’t you?” His voice lowered, his eyes sharp.
Rhys’s hand stilled, a slight irritation flaring through him.
Julian was right, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I don’t do any kind of thing,” he said sharply, his eyes hardening. He stood up and gestured toward the door. “Let’s walk. Check on Starlight.”
His tone was final, his charm a mask to hide the torrent of emotions—his father’s shadows, his past, the women he’d never seen twice, all fun and no feeling.
Celine’s words about love’s ruin echoed in his mind, stirring an ache he couldn’t name.
They strode toward the stables, the grass damp underfoot, the air thick with the scent of hay and horses. Julian kept pace, his silence probing, but Rhys’s thoughts were on Celine—her hurt expression in the carriage, her dark view of love, her silence now heavier than her hesitation.
What broke her? Does she want me to press for information or let it be?
The stables were dim, the air warm with the musk of horses. Starlight’s pregnant form swayed gently in her stall. Rhys checked her, his hands steady, his mind elsewhere.
Julian leaned against a post, his grin returning. “She’s a beauty, like your Duchess,” he remarked, his tone light.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Rhys muttered.
A part of him knew that Julian would get an earful from Celine for comparing her beauty to a horse, even though his heart was in the right place. He could almost picture it, and the thought made him smile. But the reality, the silence that lingered between them, stole the smile off his lips.
“You sure you’re just ‘fine’?”
Rhys shot him a look, his smile wry. “Enough, Julian,” he said, his voice low, patting Starlight’s flank. “Marriage is… what it is.”
Yet his words lacked conviction.
The conversation from the carriage lingered. If love brought ruin, what was this warmth Celine sparked inside him?
As they turned back toward the manor, Celine emerged from the garden, her novel clasped in her hands, its leather cover worn from her grip. Her blue muslin skirt brushed the dewy grass, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes met his—blue depths holding a flicker of hurt, perhaps a little curiosity—before she looked away.
She approached slowly, her posture rigid yet graceful. Rhys felt the weight of her silence like a physical thing. He wanted to speak, to break the tension that had bound them since the inn, but the words eluded him.
Julian, ever the mediator, stepped forward with an easy grin, breaking the silence. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing slightly, his tone warm despite the formality. “I trust the estate is treating you kindly? These old walls can be a bit daunting at first.” His hazel eyes twinkled with mischief.
Celine offered a polite nod, her lips curling into a faint, guarded smile. “It’s… different,” she replied, her voice soft but steady. “But I’m adjusting.”
Julian chuckled, glancing sidelong at Rhys. “Good, good. You’ll need that resilience, Your Grace. My friend here can be a bit hot-headed—stubborn as an ox when he digs in his heels. But beneath all that granite exterior, there’s a man who cares deeply. More than he’ll ever admit, I wager.” His words carried a teasing lilt.
Celine’s eyes flicked to Rhys, a spark of surprise—or was it hope?—flaring briefly before she masked it with a neutral expression.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir,” she said, her tone measured, though her fingers tightened around the book.
“Can’t wait to see your little rascals running through here like their father when he was younger.”
Rhys saw Celine go rigid, but she forced a smile for Julian.
What was that about?
Chapter Twelve
“You vex me, Lady Clara,” Lord Everett said as he stormed across the rose-draped terrace, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing, his voice low and sharp. “Why must you push me away, when you know—” He stopped, his breathing ragged, his heart a traitor to his pride.
Clara’s fingers clutched her fan, her cheeks flushed, her eyes defiant yet glistening.
