Page 79 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

“Concerned, surely. But maybe not curious,” Alethea smiled. “That is not the word I would have chosen.”

“Oh, please. It is all the same thing,” Temperance insisted. “We all want to know what the duke has done, or not done perhaps, to get you acting like this.”

Augusta glanced toward Madame Laroque and the assistants, all of whom had suddenly found reasons to busy themselves at the far end of the shop. “Could we perhaps not discuss my husband while half the establishment pretends not to hear us?”

Temperance immediately turned toward the modiste. “Madame, may we use the private fitting room?”

Augusta stared at her, mouth agape. Trust Temperance to find a solution to everything.

“That was not what I meant.”

“I know. But this is for your own good,” she laughed. “It helps to clear your mind, you know. Too much overthinking is not good for you, and we are only here to help you out.”

Five minutes later Augusta found herself sitting in the private fitting room with Charity on one side of her, Alethea near the window, and Temperance directly opposite her with the unmistakable expression of a woman prepared to remain there until the truth was extracted.

“This is absurd,” Augusta said. She felt as though she was being presented before a panel of judges. Though these judges only had the best of intentions for her.

So that was at least some comfort for her.

Temperance folded her hands in her lap. “Then end the absurdity quickly and tell us what happened. Come on, I know that you wish to do so.”

“Nothing happened,” Augusta maintained at first.

“Then tell us about the nothing.”

It was clear that they were not going to drop the topic so easily. Augusta looked toward Charity for help.

“You can’t really blame us, dear,” her sister smiled apologetically. “I am afraid I am curious too.”

“You are supposed to protect me,” she feigned hurt.

“I have protected you from many things. Temperance’s curiosity is beyond my abilities. You know that she has a mind of her own, and it is difficult to stop her when she puts her mind to something.”

Temperance looked pleased. “Very wise. Good. Now can we please stop wasting time?”

Alethea shook her head, though she was smiling as well. “You do not have to tell us anything you truly wish to keep private, Augusta. But you have clearly been thinking about something all morning, and if it is troubling you, perhaps it would help to say it aloud.”

That was precisely the sort of reasonable suggestion Augusta had hoped nobody would make.

She looked down at her gloves. “It is not troubling me.”

Yes, trouble was not the word she would use. Because it meant something negative. Surely, what she was experiencing was not negative but just confusing, perhaps.

Temperance leaned forward. “Excellent. Then it is exciting.”

“Must there be only two possibilities?”

“When a newly married woman spends an entire morning thinking about her husband? Usually.”

Augusta closed her eyes briefly. There was no escaping them.

Even if she refused now, Temperance would simply resume asking questions in the carriage, and Charity would undoubtedly watch Augusta with that quiet, patient expression until Augusta confessed everything simply to make her stop.

“If you really must know…” she sighed. “Ronan almost kissed me.”

For perhaps two full seconds, none of the women reacted. Then Temperance leaned forward so quickly that Augusta almost recoiled.

“He what?”