Christabella eyed her mulishly. “And how would you know what such wrinkles would look like, Pru? I confess, I cannot determine the difference between wrinkles caused by a Biblical fall and wrinkles caused by a literal fall. But if you can do so, pray, enlighten me.”
Christabella was being remarkably stubborn and resilient in her refusal to admit to what had happened. Ordinarily, that was not the way of it with the more outspoken of the Winter sisters.
Something horrid occurred to Pru then, out of nowhere.
Horrible.
Awful.
Unthinkable.
There was only one other rake running about this wing of Abingdon House. And Pru had just left him behind. After he had owned her lips with his. But surely Lord Ashley would not be such a despicable cad, such a relentless blackguard, such a devious, heartless scoundrel, that he would despoil one sister and then another within the span of an hour?
Would he?
Her chest tightened at the thought.
The man was a rake. Handsome as sin. His reputation preceded him. Was there not the rumor about him having three paramours at once? How had she forgotten? She had believed she was made of sterner stuff than to simply allow herself to be so thoroughly seduced by a silver tongue and a wicked smile.
A question she did not want to pose rose within her. She had to ask.
“Did Lord Ashley Rawdon ravish you?” she demanded of Christabella, sick at the notion.
Christabella frowned at her. “Why should Lord Ashley want to ravish me?”
Her confusion appeared genuine. Relief slid through Pru. She liked to think she knew her sister well enough to discern between the truth and a lie.
“If it was not Lord Ashley, then who was it?” she asked.
“No one ravished me,” Christabella denied. “Truly, Pru. Did you not hear a word I just said? I was in the gardens—”
“Tell me the truth, Christabella, and tell me now,” Pru interrupted, growing weary of their back and forth.
Christabella heaved a dramatic sigh. “Very well. I shall tell you, but you must promise not to go to our brother with this.”
“I promise,” Pru said easily. “Now out with it.”
“It was the Duke of Coventry,” Christabella said softly. “But he did not ravish me. Not at all. I was helping him.”
Pru’s brows rose, shock coursing through her. She would not have been more surprised had her sister announced she had just returned from a trip to the moon. “Coventry?”
“Yes,” her sister said, looking a bit shame-faced at the admission.
Pru shook her head. “The Duke of Coventry? The man who scarcely speaks?Heis the one who ravished you?”
“Hush!” Christabella cast a glance over her shoulder, her expression turning guilty. “Not so loud, if you please. Yes, it was he. But he did not ravish me, Pru. I swear it.”
Pru eyed her sister, foreboding blossoming inside her. “You had better tell me everything, Christabella Mary Winter. Start at the beginning.”
