With his mouth.
And his strong arms.
His sparkling blue eyes.
His smile.
His laughter.
His knowing fingers…
Drat.What was she thinking? She chased all thoughts of Gill from her mind, struggling to maintain her ability to reason.
“And a rake I shall yet ensnare,” she declared, perturbed that her voice did not hold nearly as much conviction as it ought.
That it sounded instead quite hollow. Uncertain, even.
“Of course you shall.” Grace rolled her eyes in typical Grace fashion.
Irritation sparked through her. “Yes, I shall. Do you doubt me?”
“Do not be foolish,” Pru cautioned. “Rakes are not all they seem to be.”
“But are you not marrying Lord Ashley, one of the wickedest rakes in all London?” Christabella could not help but to ask.
After all, Pru had just been discovered in a most compromising situation with Lord Ashley. By a servant, no less. Their brother Dev had been enraged, and he was demanding Pru marry Lord Ashley as a result.
“I have no choice in the matter,” Pru said.
“You are in love, however,” Bea offered.
“Lord Ashley has been chasing you all over Abingdon House since his arrival,” Grace added.
“He does seem to have eyes only for you,” Eugie added to Pru, which was a surprise, for she was ordinarily quite jaded when it came to noblemen.
Christabella supposed falling in love with her betrothed, the Earl of Hertford, had changed all that for her sister. Love seemed to change everything. She stared at her sisters, all of them preparing to wed. Grace had lost her heart to Lord Aylesford somehow along the way, and the two of them were now betrothed in truth. Even Pru, who seemed shocked by the harried nature of the decision involving herself, looked, beneath it all, happy.
Contented.
That was how they all looked. In love. About to marry men who would make them deliriously happy.
An unwanted spear of envy pricked her. She longed for that same happiness. To be assured of love. Of a husband who loved her. For over the course of the last few weeks of the house party, Christabella had watched her sisters fall in love. She had watched their future husbands looking upon them with unreserved affection, as if they were the only ladies in a chamber.
And what did she have? Not the grand passion she had always been longing for, certainly.
Or did she?
“We are not speaking of me, however,” Pru interrupted, her maternal instinct on full display. “We are speaking of Christabella and the Duke of Coventry.”
“And his many proposals,” Grace added with a raised brow, pinning her with a probing look.
“It was only two,” she defended.
“Two proposals is rather unusual,” Bea pointed out.
“It suggests strong emotions,” Eugie said.
Christabella exhaled on a long sigh. “It suggests confusion. I am the first lady he has ever kissed.”
