“She has refused me,” he blurted, before he could think better of the admission.
“The hellion?” Ash frowned.
“Devil take it, her name is Christabella,” Gill snapped, irritated by his brother’s continued insistence upon referring to her thus.
“Steady, brother.” Ash flashed him a grin. “I was attempting to make a sally.”
“Poorly timed,” he muttered, fiddling with the knot he had fastened in his cravat.
Martin had a much more adept hand than he did when it came to such matters. But Martin also enjoyed gossiping below stairs. And Gill had no wish for his or his brother’s romantic endeavors at this house party to become fodder for every lady’s maid and valet in Abingdon House.
“Forgive me.” Ash paused, cocking his head and considering Gill in a way that made him long to squirm. “You have offered for her hand, then?”
“Twice,” he admitted, making certain to omit the full details.
“Have you been sneaking about with her, you scoundrel?” Ash asked, his grin deepening.
“Not sneaking.” His ears were hot. His cravat was too damned tight. “Very well, one of the occasions was a planned meeting. The others, however, were happenstance. Except for when I went to her chamber…”
Ash shook his head, as if he could not believe his ears. “Bloody hell, Gill. You went to her chamber? And here you were giving me hell about Pru, whilst you have been sneaking about in chambers. Now that you mention it, sneaking about in chambers with Pru may be just the thing…”
“She had injured her ankle, and I wished to make certain she was not in pain,” he defended himself, even though the words rang hollow to his own ears.
In truth, he could have waited. There had been no reason to seek her out. He could have inquired after her the next morning, at breakfast. He could have stayed far, far away from her, damn it.
But he had not.
Because he was drawn to her. Because he could not resist her.
“I feel as if I ought to lecture you on the importance of observing the proprieties,” Ash said then. “This is the devil of a thing. I never supposed you would be acting the rogue.”
Had he been acting the rogue? The thought gave him pause.
“I am not acting the rogue,” he decided. “I am attempting to make her my duchess.”
“And yet the lady is not keen,” Ash mused, stroking his jaw. “I thought most ladies wanted nothing more than to snare a coronet until I met Pru. These Winter ladies are a law unto themselves, Gill. One must proceed with caution. And a battle plan. Tell me, what did you say to her when you asked her to marry you?”
He thought back to his awkward proposal and grimaced as his own words returned to him.
I am in need of a wife. You are unwed. I…like you.
“I told her I liked her,” he said. “And she was unwed.”
Ash nodded. “Decent. And?”
“And that was all.”
Ash whistled. “Ah, I begin to see the problem.”
He stiffened. “Here now, just because you have bedded half the ladies in London does not mean you know how to procure a wife any better than I do.”
“And yet, I am a betrothed man whilst you are not,” pointed out his cursed brother, looking and sounding equally smug.
“Because you have ruined Miss Prudence, and you have been caught doing it,” he could not help but to point out.
“But she has agreed to the marriage, whilst the hellion has not.”
His hands balled into impotent fists as his sides. “If you call her that one more time, Ash, by God, I will be forced to plant you a facer after all.”
