Celine laughed, her blush deepening. Her heart soared at their presence. The air felt lighter now.
“I manage by avoiding the dust,” she replied, her tone soft but playful, gesturing to the settee. “Sit, please. More tea’s coming, though the biscuits might be stale.”
Her words were light, the smile on her lips more genuine, but her thoughts still drifted to Rhys—his rushed exit yesterday, the distance that stung despite her assumption of his busyness.
She pushed the thought aside, her friends’ chatter a welcome distraction from her heartache. She didn’t have to deal with her fears now or the strange ache that’s settled in her bones since the conversation with Rhys the other night.
“Celine, you must tell us everything,” Dahlia demanded, excitement coloring her voice.
They settled on the settee, and Dahlia tossed her bonnet onto a chair nearby, her curls spilling free. “What’s it like, being a duchess? How’s marriage treating you? Is your Duke?—”
“Dahlia, shut up.” Helena laughed. “We just got here. Don’t badger her with all your questions.”
Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Where is the Duke, though? I’d like to thank him for agreeing to our visit.”
Helena nodded in agreement.
Celine’s smile faltered, her heart clenching. “Rhys is… busy,” she said, her voice smaller than she had intended. “Tenants, estate matters. You know how it is.”
She forced a smile.
“But tell me about you, Helena,” she continued. “How is London? Your sisters?”
She wanted to change the topic, but her question was also genuine. Even though she hated the ton and their restrictive rules, a small part of her missed the familiarity of it all.
Helena sighed, her smile softening as she clasped her hands and leaned back, the settee creaking under her weight. “Chastity, Faith, and Grace are, as ever, the bane of my existence,” she scoffed, even though her lips still held her smile.
“They’re all giggles and ribbons, constantly dreaming of the next event. I dread it, Celine. The balls, the matchmaking mamas, the endless fittings! I just want to live quietly in a cottage with my books and a cat.” She sighed again.
Dahlia’s brow arched, her smile sly as she sipped her tea, the porcelain cup clinking softly. “You would tire of solitude in a week,” she snorted.
“What?” Helena gasped.
“I’m sorry, Helena. I have to agree with Dahlia on this one.” Celine tried to stifle a laugh when she saw Helena’s shocked face.
“It’s true. You’d shrivel up if you went one day without chastising anyone,” Dahlia teased.
“Why would you say that?” Helena said with a small huff.
Celine burst into laughter. She had forgotten just how much she missed this.
“If your sisters need guidance, I’ll see to it that they debut properly. I’ll teach them everything a lady should know—dancing, etiquette, and everything in between.”
Helena laughed this time, her curls bouncing as she waved a hand. “Oh no, you don’t, Dahlia!” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Knowing you, you’d probably drag them into something scandalous!”
“So I’m a troublemaker?” Dahlia asked, holding her hands to her chest in mock offense.
“Of course!” Celine and Helena chorused.
Dahlia grinned, her eyes glinting with her usual mischief. “I will not stand for this slander,” she murmured as she reached for a biscuit. “Hmm, Celine, you need to get me the recipe. It tastes amazing.”
“Sure thing, Dahlia,” Celine drawled, still trying to stop herself from grinning.
Helena’s smile softened, her eyes narrowing as she studied Celine. “You seem… distant. Is your new role weighing on you?”
Her question was careful, and Celine could sense the warmth in her words.
Helena’s perceptive gaze tore through the facade she had put up, and Celine found herself panicking slightly. Her fingers curled into her skirt, and her smile faltered.
