The words landed like a stone in Celine’s gut. “I… I don’t…” she stammered.
Mrs. Wentworth laughed and reached to pat her arm. “You’ll see.”
Celine risked a glance at Rhys. He was looking at her, but not with amusement. Something more akin to worry. Her heart was pounding, but she looked away and took several deep breaths, doing her best to maintain the smile on her face.
Reaching for a glass of lemon water, she took a long sip. Rhys’s eyes were still on her.
After a moment, Robert wandered over and offered her his book. “It’s got giants in it,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Do you like giants?”
“I have no experience with giants,” Celine replied, schooling her features into calm.
“She could easily slay one,” Rhys said, accepting a scone from Mrs. Wentworth, who seemed to be playing hostess instead of Celine. “I once saw her destroy a drawing room’s worth of crystal in under a minute.”
Celine shot him a glare. “Accidents are not the same as heroics, Duke.”
Robert looked unimpressed. “Do you want to read it or not?”
Celine took the book, her gloved hand feeling awkward around the spine. “Thank you, Robert.”
He nodded and returned to the garden, already deep in a new adventure.
As she examined the pages and the children’s shouts echoed across the lawn, and the adults lounged with tea and bright conversation, Celine found herself relaxing. Her forced smile softened, and the knots in her stomach loosened little by little.
Until Mrs. Wentworth said, “I wonder what your children will be like.”
The words froze Celine where she sat. She thought of her mother—her memory, her loss—then of her father, alone and silent. She forced a laugh, but her heart was hammering.
“Undoubtedly, they’ll be little monsters,” Mrs. Wentworth continued. “It seems to be the only breed in Hertfordshire.”
Celine felt Rhys’s eyes on her again, and her breath stuttered. Her hands tightened around the book, and she swallowed.
Sensing her distress, Rhys cleared his throat. “Captain, do you remember the time we nearly lost that dreadful wager with the Ashfords?” He flashed a playful grin.
“I believe it involved a rather embarrassing dance on my part,” Captain Harrow boomed, picking up a small cucumber sandwich and stuffing it into his mouth.
Celine blinked, momentarily pulled out of her thoughts. “Oh, goodness. That must have been a sight to behold.”
“Oh, he was!” Mrs. Wentworth laughed.
“It taught him never to make silly wagers against me.” Lord Julian raised his glass and smiled.
“What about you, Rhys?” Celine asked, the tension in her chest easing.
“I managed to escape without too much scandal—thanks to your impeccable timing, of course.” His gaze held hers, further encouraging her to join in the lightheartedness.
The twins, tired of the chase, returned to the table and immediately began clamoring for Celine’s attention.
“Can you do a trick?” Marcus demanded.
“I beg your pardon?” Celine said.
“A trick,” Leah repeated. “Uncle Rhys can whistle like a starling. Can you?”
Celine shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no talents worth displaying. Unless you count injuring oneself with perfume vials.”
The twins dissolved into giggles.
Leah reached for her bandaged hand. “Did you really cut it on a glass vial?”
