“I thought I would explore the duke’s collection.” Sebastian smiled. “It seems not to be lacking.” His eyes teased. “I am surprised it is so well-stocked, even with the latest books.”
Rosalyn laughed. “Is it all to your satisfaction?” she asked, her own voice teasing.
“Satisfactory indeed.”
They both laughed. Rosalyn drew a breath, not certain about how to ask.
“You are feeling better this morning, sister?” Sebastian asked before she could begin. “I heard that you were feeling indisposed at the ball yesterday.”
“I felt a little queasy, yes,” Rosalyn began uncertainly. “I needed a moment to calm my mind.”
“Mm.” Sebastian nodded, frowning. “Are you certain that you are well, sister? You did exert yourself in the village yesterday, and it was very cold.”
“I am quite well,” Rosalyn assured him.
“Harriet was delighted! She enjoyed handing out the gifts to the poor. She said that it brought her such joy and that she wants to do it every year, now.” He laughed.
“She seems a very pleasant young woman,” Rosalyn said warmly.
“She is. From a pleasant family, I think,” Sebastian said slowly.
“The duke is a fine man,” Rosalyn said, blurting it out before she lost her opportunity and her nerve.
“I am certain he is,” Sebastian said unsurely.
“He is a good man. He can be difficult to get to know—reserved, cold—but when one knows him, he is entirely different,” Rosalyn breathed.
“I am sure that is so,” Sebastian said, still sounding a little unsure.
“I feel...oh! I do not know how to explain it.” Rosalyn gazed up at Sebastian. “I wish I did. It is so strange. One moment, I feel full of admiration and affection, and the next moment, I am in turmoil in my thoughts, confused and uncertain. What is happening to me?” she demanded.
Sebastian raised a brow. “Love is strange. Like water. It leaks slowly into our hearts, and, where we have built dams against it, it pushes at our resistance.” He paused. “That is where we feel the discomfort, the fear. Where love challenges our confused, conflicted beliefs.”
“Love?” Rosalyn gaped at him.
Sebastian smiled. “I believe that is what is happening to you, as you say.”
“You think so?” she asked, a smile spreading across her lips. It made sense that the wondrous feeling that consumed her, that set her thinking of the duke and smiling for no reason, that made her heart warm when she saw him, longing just to be near him, was love.
“Assuredly,” Sebastian said with a grin. “I recognise it.”
Rosalyn chuckled, her eyes widening in understanding. “Harriet! You and Lady Harriet?” Joy made her voice rise as she spoke.
“I believe that I have gazed at her with the same soft eyes with which you sometimes can be seen staring at the duke.”
Rosalyn went red. “Is it that apparent?”
“It is to me,” Sebastian said gently. “But I suspect that it is because I find myself in like position.”
Rosalyn giggled. As delightful as the feeling in her heart—and the knowledge that it was, indeed, what she thought it was—was the fact that Sebastian could share it.
“I think I realised what I felt for her when she fell in the snow.”
“She fell in the snow?” Rosalyn gaped at him. She did not recall the incident.
“Yes. On the day when we went out on a coach ride. I believe you were in the barouche with the duke?”
“Yes!” Rosalyn lifted her hand to her lips, recalling the day. “How did that all unfold” she asked.
