“It was lovely speaking to you both,” Rosalinde managed through tightly clenched teeth. “I-I will see you later, I’m certain.”
The two said their farewells, and Rosalinde began to make her way through the crowd. She felt their stares on her back, felt Gray’s stare on her back, as she did so and a thin layer of sweat made itself known on her brow. Gray’s offhanded comment had certainly raised the interest of the women, which was bad. And yet the fact that he was telling people who were important to him that she was fascinating still warmed her to her toes.
She exited to the terrace, shutting the door behind her. The night air was chill, which meant no one else was outside, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At least she could have a moment without eyes watching her.
She looked around, expecting to find Celia standing at the wall or pacing the length of the terrace. But her sister was nowhere to be found.
Rosalinde walked out farther, seeking Celia in the shadows. “Celia?” she called out, but to no response. A breeze blew across the walkway, and she shivered. Celia had been out here for a while, she had to be freezing.
“Celia!” Rosalinde repeated, this time louder. She moved along the length of the terrace, worry building in her. Could her sister have gone to the garden? In this chill? She would catch her death.
But just as Rosalinde moved toward the steps to go down and search, she caught a glimpse of movement in a window nearby. Relief flooded her. Celia sat in one of the other parlors which was also attached to the terrace. But through the window, Rosalinde saw her sister’s head in her hands. She was weeping.
Rosalinde caught her breath and rushed to the terrace door, pressing it open and entering the chamber to join her sister. Celia looked up, her red face pained and tear-streaked.
Rosalinde shut the door and rushed to her, putting her arms around her. “Oh, Celia!” she murmured, drawing her closer.
Celia let out a gasping breath and then continued to cry, this time into Rosalinde’s shoulder.
“This is a mistake,” she sobbed, her words garbled by her tears. “Oh, Rosalinde, whatever am I to do?”
Chapter Sixteen
Rosalinde caught her breath as she smoothed Celia’s hair gently. “A mistake?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what her sister was referring to.
“This marriage,” Celia wailed.
Rosalinde squeezed her eyes shut. It was as she feared. And despite what had been said earlier, she knew full well this was more than mere bridal nerves.
“Why?” she said softly. “Tell me what you’re feeling. Tell me what he’s done.”
Celia drew away from her shoulder. “It isn’t anything he has done. I don’t hate him, I don’t fear him. But I do not love him, Rosalinde. I willneverlove him. I know that as I know my own face, my own hands, my own heart.”
Rosalinde nodded slowly. “I see.”
“And he feels nothing for me either. I see it and I feel it every time he looks at me.”
Rosalinde steeled herself, for she would have to tread carefully in order to understand. She kept her tone calm and gentle as she said, “But you knew this from the start, Celia. We’ve even spoken before about the nature of your relationship with Stenfax. What has changed that makes you so unhappy with the decision now?”
Celia rubbed her neck. “I was never fully comfortable. I felt what was lacking between us from the first moment we met, but I somehow convinced myself it might change. I tried so hard to make it change, because who wouldn’t want such a man? When it didn’t, I kept telling myself that I would live with it. That I could live without love or affection or passion of any kind. That it would be worth it. But then…then…”
“Then?” Rosalinde squeezed her hand. “You needn’t hold back. I want to hear it all—it’s the only way I can help you.”
Celia nodded. “It will help to say it, I suppose. But then you told me about you and Gray.”
“Me and Gray?” Rosalinde gasped. “Thatchanged your mind?”
“You were describing a passion I will never feel.” Celia sighed. “And when I spoke to Gray, there was this…this expression in his eyes that said more than any words. What he feels for you after just a short acquaintance is more than Stenfax has ever felt for me in almost a year of courtship. It is more than the earl willeverfeel for me.”
Rosalinde could not find her breath as she stared at her sister. “You spoke to Gray about me?”
“Of course,” Celia said with a shake of her head. “If you are involved with the man, I must know he is worthy, mustn’t I? That is my duty as the person who loves you most. And while I do not like him, I cannot deny that theredoesseem to be a connection between you. From his side as well as yours.”
Rosalinde fought the impulse to leap to her feet and run away. Celia was saying words she longed to hear, making her want things she had convinced herself were not possible, despite how much she had come to love Gray.
“Dearest, I don’t know what you saw,” she said. “But he has made no promises or offers to me. So you cannot compare this to your situation.”
Celia shrugged. “Perhaps not. And perhaps I could have continued on as I was even with that niggling doubt, but then I saw Lord and Lady Folworth.”
