“You expect me to believe your hair was ruined by the wind.” Pru gave her a disapproving glare. “That the wind not only pulled your hat from your hair, but that it also plucked a handful of pins from it. And that after you were so mauled by the wind, leaving your hair half-unraveled down your back, you proceeded to fall into the snow in such a manner that your gown became hopelessly wrinkled. Much in the same fashion it would become wrinkled if it were raised to your waist?”
Drat and drat again.
Christabella returned the glare, reminding herself that Pru was in a similar state and that Gill’s brother, the handsome, rakish Lord Ashley, had taken a marked interest in her. Could it be that the two sisters had been engaging in secret assignations with the brothers, each without the other being aware of it? At the least, she had to attempt to distract her sister with the idea.
“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.”
Pru paled then.
“Did Lord Ashley Rawdon ravish you?” she asked.
Lord Ashley? Christbella frowned. She had supposed that was who Pru had been meeting, the reason for her mussed hair and dark lips. “Why should Lord Ashley want to ravish me?”
“If it was not Lord Ashley, then who was it?”
“No one ravished me,” Christabella denied, deciding to stay with her original lie. “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.
Blast.She could not very well stand here all day, arguing with her sister, when anyone could come upon them. They both looked as if they had been properly ruined.
Christabella heaved a sigh. “Very well. I shall tell you, but you must promise not to go to our brother with this.”
“I promise,” Pru said. “Now out with it.”
“It was the Duke of Coventry,” Christabella admitted. “But he did not ravish me. Not at all. I was helping him.”
Yes, that was how she preferred to think of it. Though in truth, somehow in the course of everything that had passed between them, she had forgotten she had been meant to aid him. She had forgotten everything but him, his kiss, his touch.
Lord God, his touch.
But now was decidedly not the time to recall the sensation of Gill’s long fingers parting her flesh. Sending all those sparks shooting from the center of her being…
Pru’s brows rose, her shock evident. “Coventry?”
Gill, she wanted to correct.
Wisely, she did not.
“Yes,” she admitted.
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, hoping Gill was not lingering within earshot, or worse, eavesdropping. “Not so loud, if you please. Yes, it was he. But he did not ravish me, Pru. I swear it.”
“You had better tell me everything, Christabella Mary Winter,” Pru ordered. “Start at the beginning.”
“There is nothing to tell.” She linked her arm through her sister’s, seeking a means of distraction. “I was just about to return to my chamber for a restorative nap.”
“I will accompany you, but only in the name of keeping you from further trouble,” said Pru. “On our way to the east wing, you can enlighten me as to how you have beenhelpinghim.”
Oh, Christabella had no intention of telling her sister everything.
Just enough to satisfy her.
Certainly not that Gill had kissed her more passionately than she had ever dreamed a rake could. Nor that he had lifted her skirts to her waist. Definitely not the shocking pleasure of his touch on her most intimate flesh.
No, she would keep all that to herself.
