Page 95 of The Duchess in His Bed
“No reason at all,” she agreed.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Connie said as she strolled into the small dining room, Flo and Alice in her wake. “You don’t usually join us for breakfast.”
“I have some news to share with you girls.” And she wanted to do it before they’d had an opportunity to read any gossip rags, so she’d come down to wait for them.
“That sounds portentous.” Flo wiggled her eyebrows suggestively before settling in beside Selena. Connie took a chair beside Flo while Alice came around to sit on the other side of Selena.
“It does mean there will be some changes,” she told them.
“Do tell,” Connie ordered playfully while a footman set plates of sausage and eggs before them. Selena’s stomach roiled. She really needed to tell the cook to dispense with preparing eggs for a while.
“I hardly know where to begin.”
“At the beginning usually works best,” Flo said.
“Yes. Right. Well—”
“It’s all over London that you kissed that Trewlove bastard!” The shouted words accompanied Winslow as he barged in, came to a stop at the foot of the table, and glared disbelieving at her.
“Is it? Well, it is what one does when one is to marry a man: she kisses him.”
“I knew it!” Alice crowed.
Selena watched in stunned fascination as the twins removed a pound note from their pockets and dropped it into Alice’s outstretched hand. “What’s this?”
Connie rolled her eyes. “After our afternoon at the bookshop, Alice wagered us that Mr. Trewlove had more than a casual interest in you and that you would be wed within the year.”
Selena could scarce believe her ears as she looked at her baby sister.
Alice merely shrugged. “They wouldn’t have been silly enough to take my wager if they read romantic novels. The manner in which he looked at you matches the description of any hero who has fallen madly in love with the heroine. I noticed it right off, the moment we arrived.”
“You certainly did a splendid job of not giving away your thoughts to me.”
“In any good love story, the heroine must come around to realizing it on her own.”
“All fairy tales aside,” Winslow said impatiently as he pulled out a chair and sat, “it was rather poor planning on your part to reveal your tendre for the man so early into your pregnancy. It might cause the Crown to doubt the legitimacy of your claim that the babe is the duke’s.”
“You’re definitely with child?” Connie asked.
She could not prevent her soft smile from forming or her hand from protectively flattening over her belly. “I am. However, it is Aiden Trewlove’s babe, not Lushing’s.”
Winslow looked as though she’d rammed a lance the length of the table between two of his ribs. “You shouldn’t have confessedthatto them. The fewer who know—”
“I sent a missive to the duke’s solicitor, Mr. Beckwith, this morning alerting him of that very fact and asking him to notify the Crown that no possibility I am carrying Lushing’s heir exists.”
“Have you gone mad?”
“I will not spend the remainder of my life living a lie. I will not have my child grow up believing another to be his—or her—father.” She glanced at her sisters. “Which is the reason that I am here this morning at breakfast. I love you all dearly. Aiden and I will do what we can to see you in good marriages, but I must be honest. I think each of you will be a spectacular catch for any man who is smart enough to recognize what you have to offer. I believe you each have it within you to make a good match all on your own.”
“You know we’d have never forgiven you if you sacrificed your happiness for us,” Alice said.
Reaching out, she squeezed her sister’s hand. “Thank you, sweeting. I do feel a bit guilty putting my own wants first. It’s an odd sensation, as I’ve never done it before, but I think it will actually make me a better sister.”
“You deserve to have a man who gazes at you the way Mr. Trewlove does. As much as I loved Lushing, he never looked at you as though he would die if he couldn’t have you in his arms. The only other man who ever came close to looking at you that way was Lord Kittridge.”
“Kittridge? I think you’re mistaken there.”
“No, I’m not. It was at Christmas. You and Lushing were playing a duet on the pianoforte. Kittridge was watching you with such yearning that I’m surprised you didn’t feel it.”
