Christabella tried to tell herself his absence did not concern her. She tried to tell herself staying away from him was truly for the best anyway. Distance and separation were what they required. All the better to clear her mind.
To convince herself that her sisters were wrong.
That she was not in love with the Duke of Coventry.
That it did not bother her one whit that here she was in the vast drawing room once more, surrounded by the house party guests, prepared to partake in yet another entertainment without him.
But it did.
She seated herself at Pru’s side, fidgeting with her skirts, as their sister-in-law announced the afternoon’s distraction would be charades.
For the third time.
She cast a sidelong glance at her sister whilst Lady Emilia spoke, thinking Pru looked irritatingly happy. Pru and Lord Ashley were making eyes at each other across the drawing room, acting as if they were the only two people in the chamber.
Love.
It was ridiculously irritating.
How had she ever imagined it would be the answer to all her problems?
“Have you inquired after Coventry with Lord Ashley?” she whispered to her sister, although she had promised herself she would not ask again.
She had already asked at least half a dozen times, and on each occasion, Pru gave her the same noncommittal response. The duke was apparently ill. And though she did not want to worry over him, Christabella could not help it. Shewasworried.
It had been an entire day, after all.
“Coventry is still indisposed,” Pru murmured back without bothering to sever her eye contact with her betrothed. “Something about a lung infection, I believe.”
A lung infection? This was news to Christabella. Her stomach clenched.
“Lung infections can be quite serious,” she fretted aloud.
“Hmm?” Pru asked, her attention still pinned upon Gill’s brother.
Why had Christabella ever imagined a rake would be the sort of man to turn her head and win her heart, anyway? Lord Ashley was handsome enough, but there was something about Gill’s lack of seductive polish she could not resist. He was earnest. And his kisses were… Well, she could not fathom a rake’s could compare.
But what manner of illness would force him to remain in his chamber for the last remaining days of the house party? She knew he did not particularly care for socializing and drawing room games, but with Christmastide upon them and the party about to come to an end, Christabella was beginning to worry she would not even see him again before he departed.
The thought left her with a hollow ache she could not shake. As did the notion of him abed, suffering, all alone.
“Has his condition improved?” she prodded her sister.
After all, Pru’s betrothed was Gill’s own brother. Who better to ask?
Christabella herself did not yet feel comfortable enough with Lord Ashley to make demands of him. When he was officially her brother, she had no doubt that would change.
“Has his inclination moved?” Pru asked, at last sparing Christabella a glance. A hasty glance, before returning to her previous task of making lovesick eyes at Lord Ashley. “What nonsense are you spouting now, Christabella?”
“Have you not listened to a word I have spoken?” she demanded, careful to keep her voice low lest others overhear her outrage. “That is not at all what I said. Little wonder you think it nonsensical.”
“I did not think it made much sense, but in my defense, you are often spouting about some romanticism or other, darling,” Pru told her.
“Would you kindly direct your attention to me whilst I am speaking with you?” she demanded, her dudgeon now quite high. “Lord Ashley is not the only person in this chamber, you know. I am your sister, and I am worried about the state of your future brother-in-law’s health. Indeed, one might think you could show a bit more concern. Do you not care for Coventry at all?”
“Of course I care for him.” She shot Christabella an irritated look at last. “He is not on his deathbed, Christabella. As I understand it, he is resting and shall recover quite nicely. There is nothing to fret over.”
How wrong Pru was.
