But then he asked himself why it should matter.
He had no desire to wed himself, and he could not dally with unwed ladies. Nor with Pru, the woman his brother had chosen. The very same woman who stirred him in a way no other woman had.
Ever.
A violent burst of winter wind hit them, bringing with it a flutter of powdery snow. It hit Ash in the face in a storm of icy pinpricks, jolting him from his musings. Gill was still staring into the distance, his expression unreadable.
He unclenched his fists. If Gill married Pru, Ash would have to banish the terrible attraction he felt for her. “You feel comfortable with her, then,” he observed, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Gill’s gaze jerked back to Ash’s, a frown furrowing his brow beneath his hat. “I…she confounds me. But yes, there is something about her that also puts me at ease, strange as it sounds.”
Perhaps that was one of Pru’s gifts.
Ash could not shake the grimness within him. It was a devil of a predicament to find one’s self in. He ought to be pleased. Relieved, even. He had attended this blasted house party to help his brother find a wife. Not to lust after Gill’s choice of bride himself.
“That is excellent,” he forced himself to say. “When she is your duchess, you may find it easier to engage in the social whirl if she is at your side.”
And Ash himself would stay far, far away.
“When she is my duchess?” Gill’s frown deepened.
“Yes,” Ash gritted. “You are still settled upon marrying Miss Prudence Winter, are you not?”
His brother’s frown cleared. “Er, yes, of course I am. I was not speaking of Miss Prudence Winter, however, but of her sister, Miss Christabella.”
Relief he had no right to feel washed over Ash. Cleansing him. He felt like a new man. This was trouble. And speaking of trouble…
“You have been talking to the flame-haired sister?” he asked his brother. “The one who is always chattering and wearing bright-colored dresses?”
“That one.” Gill’s jaw tensed. “Loquacious, as I said. Red-haired. Does not take no for an answer.”
Thank Christ. But still, of all the Winter sisters, the wild one seemed the least likely candidate to set his brother at ease and inspire such an unprecedented response.
“I thought you were speaking of Miss Prudence,” he admitted. “Have you spoken to her yet?”
“Directly?” Gill’s frown returned. “No.”
“Ah,” he said, infinitely pleased by the revelation.
“Haveyoubeen speaking with her?” his brother prodded, curiosity in his tone.
Ash cleared his throat, the guilt returning in full force. “A small amount. Here and there. Scarcely at all, really.”
“Miss Prudence wants to assist you with courting?” Gill asked.
Damn.
“She offered me aid in observing the proprieties when courting ladies,” he admitted. “Yes.”
His brother laughed. “Does she not know you do not give a damn about propriety?”
That much was true. He did not give a damn about it.
He did, however give a damn about Pru. Far, far too much of a damn. And any excuse to be near to her or to have more of her time was one he would seize with both greedy hands. Apparently, his mouth, too.
“Perhaps she thinks she is performing a service for her fellow sex,” he evaded lightly. “It matters not, for I only agreed so that I might get a bit more acquainted with her and determine whether or not the two of you would suit.”
“Selfless of you, brother,” Gill quipped. “You have my thanks.”
