Page 49 of Miss Devon’s Choice

“I am, too.” Rebecca closed her eyes and sank backward into the couch again.

Christine chuckled without much humor. “I didn’t wish to speak of my failings to anyone. Now you both know. We can move forward happily, and I will certainly be taking Nathaniel’s advice. I am to go riding with Thomas tomorrow.” When Rebecca looked once more, she saw Christine’s expression had softened at the very mention of her husband. “He is very grateful. Thomas said he missed my company, but I think he’s also grown weary of the shrew I have become.”

Julia laughed. “Your husband adores you, Christine. He wants your happiness, nothing more.”

“I know.” A little more color came into Christine’s cheeks, but then she looked to Rebecca and her expression fell again. “Perhaps my upset has colored my view in regard to your Lord Easton. But when your letter came, explaining what father had done, I could not help but be angry. And then when you said you intended to fall in love with him—”

“I must admit, that surprised me as well.” Julia retook her seat next to Rebecca. “How are you coming along with that plan?” Although her sister spoke casually enough, Rebecca could hear the note of concern in her voice.

Rebecca looked from Julia to Christine, trying to order her thoughts before speaking. How did one analyze and explain the process of coming to know another, of the feelings that may or may not exist between them? While Julia certainly seemed open-minded, Christine had made her disapproval known from the start.

“I am coming to know a great deal about him, and to understand the formation of his character.” Rebecca swallowed and lowered her eyes, only then noticing how she had begun to fiddle with her fingers. She laced them together and held them tight. “His life has not been easy.”

“He does seem much improved from when I saw him last.” Christine’s words were hopeful and her smile conciliatory. “And what is it he’s calling you?”

“Carina. I’m not sure what it means—”

“It’s an endearment. Like calling you ‘my dear,’” Julia answered. Rebecca turned to her in surprise.

“Julia,” she said suspiciously. “You don’t speak Italian.”

“I took a few lessons before Father thought German would suit me better.” Julia shrugged, a twinkle in her eye. “And I was only twelve, so of course I paid especial attention to the romantic terms. I remember asking about them, actually. I wasn’t certain when I heard him say it to you a moment ago, but my mind has been thinking on it and I believe my translation is close.”

“Hm.” Christine raised her eyebrows. “And you’ve taken to calling him by his Christian name? Oh, bother, that sounds odd.” She chuckled and Rebecca couldn’t help smiling back at her.

“By his given name, yes.” Rebecca’s cheeks grew warm again.

“You have advanced to friendship, then,” Julia said, her words careful. “That’s lovely, Rebecca. If you two can have a mutual understanding and respect for one another, you will have a good marriage. Much depends on those two things.”

“I would hardly call respect and understanding the same thing as love,” Christine countered. The middle sister had always been prone to argue a point. It had landed her in trouble a time or two in the past, as well as led to sisterly spats. Christine leaned forward. “How do you think he regards you, Rebecca?”

Rebecca bit her lip. If she told them the whole of it, that Christian fully knew her plan and had spoken against love itself, what would they think of him? It would be best to keep that to herself, to discuss the positive moments they shared.

“I think he has come to trust me. As I said, he has told me much of himself. I have also seen a gentleness and tenderness to him. He found me, right after one of Aunt Jacqueline’s lectures, and I was less than composed.” In truth, had Rebecca read such a scene in a novel, she would’ve sighed over the man’s actions and woven hope for such a thing into her dreams. “He played the pianoforte for me. He was kind. Comforting. But appropriate.”

Rebecca tilted her head back against the couch’s cushions, her eyes on the chandelier hanging above them. “Apart from following him around every chance I get, I confess that I am not certain as to what I’m doing.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Christine rose. “I am going to ring for some refreshment.”

“I think that a wise idea.” Julia laid her hand on Rebecca’s arm. “And we will discuss your strategy, darling. If you wish to marry him—”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Rebecca reminded her eldest sister quietly. “But I do believe he is a good man, Julia.”

And if I want happiness in my marriage to him, I must seize it for both of us.

Chapter Eighteen

When Christian followed Doctor Hastings and Gilbert out of the parlor, he’d no idea what they would do to entertain themselves. Both gentlemen proved to be interesting conversationalists, however. Gilbert gave them a tour of the stables, which Hastings hadn’t examined before. Then they went to the nursery, where a village girl had been hired to look after William Hastings, who was just above a year old. The doctor took his son from the girl and promised to return the child in a few hours. He obviously doted on the baby, happily keeping the little one in his arms for the next hour.

Their discussion had taken place in the house’s small library. They’d talked of books, horses, and Doctor Hastings’s medical practice. Having spent the last several days conversing with near-strangers, Christian found himself up to the task. It was easier, somehow, to show an interest in what these two men had to say as compared to the political discussion of the earl and his guests.

“It is time for us to join the ladies for luncheon,” Gilbert finally said, looking at the clock on the mantel. “Shall we fetch them?”

“If you would make certain my wife doesn’t feel neglected by my brief absence, I would appreciate it,” Doctor Hastings said, adjusting a now-sleeping William in his arms. “I’d best return this fellow to the nursery, but I will be down shortly.”

“Of course.” Gilbert rose and they went into the hall, parting with the doctor at the stairs.

Outside the doors to the parlor, Gilbert stopped Christian with a hand on his arm. “A word, Easton?”