Page 82 of The Earl She Once Saved

Verity’s eyes lifted, but Win’s attention remained upon the tray.

“And I have learned this one well enough.”

There was no accusation in the words. Neither was there amusement. That was somehow worse.

“You imagine too much.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

Win placed the last cup upon the tray. Verity waited for her to say more, but she did not. She only held out the invitation. Verity took it. Win lifted the tray and left the room, offering neither argument nor comfort.

She did not require Verity’s confession. She already knew it.

Verity sighed and headed toward Rafe’s chamber. He was sitting up when Verity returned to his room. A tray rested across his knees. He had eaten almost none of what was upon it.

“You are meant to be resting,” she pointed out.

“I have been resting for nine consecutive hours.” He nodded.

“You were unconscious for most of them.”

“I refuse to have that effort discounted.”

She crossed to the bed and held out the card.

“Miss Marchmont called.”

Something shuttered briefly in his face. “Celestine?”

Again, the name.

Verity set the invitation upon the tray.

“She is pleased you are recovering.”

“How kind.”

“Her mother is holding a musical evening next week.”

Rafe looked at the card but did not touch it.

“She hopes you will attend.”

He did not have any reaction to her words. “I see.”

“She spoke warmly of you.”

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

Rafe moved the invitation aside, unopened. Verity refused to acknowledge the pleasure that arrived from that simple act.

“She asked that I tell you she called,” she forced herself to say.

“You have told me.”