“Are you ill, Christine?” Rebecca asked, concerned, though also more than happy to escape as the subject of conversation.
Christine stopped her pacing and sat, rather abruptly, in the chair facing her sisters’ couch. “I am not. At least, I don’t think I am. I may as well tell you both. I know Julia’s been curious all morning.” Christine rubbed at her temples for a moment. “Thomas and I have been married for more than two years and I have yet to fall in the family way.”
Rebecca had never stopped to think about Christine and Thomas having children, or the lack of an announcement that they should. But Julia and Virginia, who had been married near the same time as Christine, had both been blessed with babies.
“What did Nathaniel say?” Julia asked, her voice soft and soothing as it had been when both her younger sisters suffered through their scrapes as children.
Christine let her hands fall into her lap where she then proceeded to twist a ring around her finger. “He said the apothecary’s advice wasn’t wise, but little else. Mr. Leeson told me last year, when I was foolish enough to ask, to take a whole list of herbs and to give up riding. He said a woman who rode as frequently as I did had no hope of having a child.”
“Dear me. Christine, did you stop riding?” Julia’s wide-eyed shock was genuine enough.
“You couldn’t have. You love it too much.” Rebecca couldn’t imagine her sister giving way to such a suggestion; Christine was more at home on horseback than in a drawing room.
Christine’s sorrowful expression accompanied her words. “I did give it up. I haven’t ridden in a year.”
Julia appeared wounded by the admission and Rebecca bit her lip.
“Nathaniel—he told you that was ridiculous, didn’t he?” Julia’s tone was indignant and hopeful all at once. “I know for a fact that Lady Crenshaw rides every day the weather allows for it, and she’s had five children.”
“That’s what Nathaniel said.” Christine’s smile was as tired as it was forced. “He said he’d only recommend a woman stop riding if she experienced pain while doing so, but that one could have such exercise safely until after the pregnancy was discovered. Especially one who is used to riding as I am—was.” Christine put her elbow on the arm of her chair and dropped her chin into her hand. “I admit, when Mr. Leeson said it was my fault I hadn’t had a child, I believed him.”
“But-but—” Rebecca leaned forward, gripping the edge of her cushioned seat. “What did Nathaniel say you ought to do? Did he have advice?”
“He did.” Christine’s forehead puckered. “He said I ought to do the things that make me happy and wait for nature to take its course.”
Julia rose and went to Christine, leaning down to wrap her younger sister in an embrace. For a moment, Rebecca saw Christine resist the hug, but then she reached up and held onto Julia for several long moments.
When Julia stepped away, Christine withdrew a handkerchief and wiped at her eyes. “I am sorry. The whole ordeal, the waiting and doing everything the apothecary suggested, the horrid concoctions he made me drink, has left me out of sorts for some time now.”
“I am sorry, Christine. I didn’t know.” Julia’s voice trembling with her own tears.
“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 w
hat 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?”
Christian stopped and nodded, folding his arms across his chest.
“I must thank you again for bringing Rebecca to see her sisters. It means a great deal to all of us,” Gilbert said, his expression earnest. “I care for her as if she truly were my sister, and I would hate to see her unhappy.”
“I intend to do all in my power to keep that from happening,” Christian answered firmly, then checked himself. Did he mean that? He had every intention of seeing to his wife’s needs. Rebecca would have a beautiful home, wealth, a title, and could easily cultivate her social status as she wished. But had he truly ever considered what would make her happy?
No. He’d been too concerned with his own feelings, protecting himself, to really take thought of what this arrangement meant to her emotions, her heart.
Besides her absurd declaration that she wished to love him, what did he really know about what she wanted or expected from him? He’d assumed, since the beginning, that a title and wealth would be all she wished for, given the nature of their arrangement. Having spent time in her company, and meeting the people she cared for most, he needed to reconsider.
When they entered the room wherein Rebecca and the other ladies sat, he noted at once the way her face glowed. He’d seen her smile, tease, and knew her to be cheerful, but this was different. This was joy. His breath hitched in his chest when she raised her gaze to his and he waited, half in despair, for the look on her face to change. He must be a reminder of all she was giving up to wed him.
Rebecca surprised Christian, coming to join him, the light in her eyes undiminished. She held a hand out as she approached and he took it, drawing her to his side.
“Christian, I am having a marvelous time. I hope you are being well-treated?”
Christian nodded, gently running his thumb across her knuckles. “Your brothers-in-law are easy to get along with.”
She chuckled and turned to listen to her sisters, who were teasing Gilbert. Christian remained quiet, focused on observing Rebecca. Here, in this place, she was content. This was what a good husband would have to replicate.
A good husband wouldn’t fear growing close enough to her to give her such happiness.
He wasn’t certain he would ever be the right man for her.
After a day spent in the company of Rebecca’s loving family, seeing the way they all cared for one another, he’d almost felt like he belonged. But his desire to protect himself kept him just outside their circle.
There was the matter of the letter he’d sent to his grandfather, as well.
When the moment came for goodbyes a few hours later, Christian saw Mrs. Gilbert put her hand on Rebecca’s arm. Rebecca stood near a mounting block, making promises to write as often as she could.
“Your gown came here, Rebecca. I suppose there was some confusion, since I bought it for you, but I will send the parcel over this evening if you wish.”
Rebecca’s expression fell and she pressed her lips together tightly before answering. “I think you had better keep it for now. Aunt Jacqueline has forbidden me to accept the dress.”
“But it’s a gift—”
Forestalling her sister with a gesture, Rebecca shook her head. “I cannot, Christine. You know how our aunt is. Perhaps you could send it to me as a wedding gift. I cannot imagine the dress will be out of fashion in a month’s time.”
It looked as though her sister wished to argue, but Rebecca turned to the mounting block and a groom assisted her onto the saddle before another word was said. Rebecca took her horse a few steps away, clearing the way for Christian’s mount to be brought forward.
“Mrs. Gilbert,” he said, going to stand by the woman who had yet to say more than a few words directly to him. He bowed and doffed his hat. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality.”
She regarded him with a critical eye. “You are most welcome. I am pleased you could come and meet more of the family.”
He bent toward her and lowered his voice. “Send the parcel to me, Mrs. Gilbert. I will make certain that your sister has her gown, without consequences.”
He’d completely taken her by surprise, judging by the way her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Lord Easton—”
“Good day, Mrs. Gilbert.” He wasn’t certain what had overtaken him to make such promises. Christian swept away to mount his horse and didn’t give the gaping woman a chance to reply.
From horseback, Rebecca called her last goodbyes, and everyone stood in the drive to wave. Even little William, flapping one arm about wildly from his father’s arms.
They hadn’t been on the road long before Rebecca sidled her horse up to his. “What was it you said to Christine that made her stare like that?”
He shrugged. “I thanked her for her hospitality.”
“She thinks you rather solemn and severe, you know.” Rebecca’s relaxed manner was evidence that she had enjoyed herself. “My sisters are my dearest friends. What did you think of them?”
Honestly, he hadn’t paid as much attention to them as he had their effect on her. He tried to think on how to admit such a thing without sounding ridiculous.
“I can see that they mean a great deal to you. It is a good thing you have one another.”
“Who are your closest friends?” she asked, regarding him with
They had promised to speak honestly with one another. Yet Christian was hesitant to admit, to tell her, just how lonely his life was. He cultivated his disposition to discourage anyone from approaching him. It was better to be an object of respect and mystery than one of disdain and ridicule.
“I’m not certain I could claim to have any relationships that would meet your criteria as friendships.”
For a moment, she regarded him with surprise, then hastily faced forward again. “That sounds lonely to me,” she said, staring ahead of them at the road. “Do you not allow anyone close?”
“I do not,” he answered, unbothered by that truth. At least, he did his best not to be troubled by it. “There are few gentlemen I get along with. Members of my old rowing team still meet on occasion, to row, or to take drinks together at our club in London. Otherwise, there is no one.” He had Ajax, of course, but mentioning a dog while claiming no close acquaintances of the two-legged disposition seemed pathetic.
“My aunt has introduced me to many people who are, as she says, of the right sort. I have little in common with them.” She shrugged and reached up to adjust the brim of her hat when it brushed a low-hanging tree branch.
Christian allowed a beat of silence before going after the topic he wished to di
scuss and could not understand. “Why is it that you fear your aunt? She strikes me as an austere sort of person, but it seems as though she has a great hold over you.”
Rebecca winced and glanced away from him. “She is my guardian until I wed. All important decisions must therefore be made or approved by her.”
“And she is not an agreeable woman?” he pressed, trying to understand.
“We are vastly different in personality. Do you remember when you played the pianoforte for me?”
How could he forget it? In the music room, seated beside her, he’d begun to realize both how dangerous she was for his well-being.
“She does not always reduce me to tears, but that was one of the special occasions. I am afraid I was already ill at ease that morning when she took me to task of what she perceived to be poor behavior. She is a woman who believes the world ought to conform to her ideals. She is most determined in making things fit where she thinks they ought.”
Rebecca’s words, though spoken in a nearly careless tone, made his shoulders tense and his fists clench. King Lud flicked an ear back and Christian forced himself to relax, to avoid discomfiting the horse.
“She sounds like my grandfather.” Christian had been on the receiving end of many a lecture and several punishments more severe than the disappointing behavior warranted. A particular memory surfaced and he cut a glance at Rebecca. “When I first came back to this country, my English was very poor. Father had still spoken it with me enough that I could hold a basic conversation, but Italian was more natural. My mother spoke it to me from infancy, and then ten years—” He broke off that statement and sighed, the memories he’d tried to forget pushing forward.
“Your grandfather wasn’t understanding of that?” Rebecca asked, her voice soft and soothing him out of his memories.
“Not at all. He sent me straight to Eton and told me the other boys would beat it out of me. He was quite correct.” Christian couldn’t help but smile when her expression changed to one of shock. “Not to worry, carina. I survived the school. And when I came home on holiday, I was forced to sit in my grandfather’s library. I read aloud and he made a mark on a sheet of paper for every word that didn’t sound English enough.”
Miss Devon's Choice: A Sweet Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 5) Page 17