Page 83 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

She opened her eyes. “What sort of trouble?”

That was when Augusta became suspicious.

“What?”

Charity’s smile was unbearably gentle. “How long have you been in love with him?”

Love?

Augusta looked from one woman to the next. “I am not. Now that is just you assuming things that are not there.”

“Very well,” Charity said.

Temperance finally spoke. “Augusta, you have spent the entire morning staring into space because your husband almost kissed you.”

“I am attracted to him,” she admitted. “That is not the same thing as love, and we have a close relationship now. I am fond of him, sure.”

“But you have not only spoken about wanting him to kiss you. That is why Charity asked.”

Augusta looked away.

Temperance’s voice was softer than usual when she added, “And you have been talking about him differently for weeks.”

“I haven’t noticed.”

“You have; you defend him before anyone has criticized him.”

Augusta looked toward Charity, hoping for support, but her sister’s expression was thoughtful.

“Do you remember what you told me before your debut?” Charity asked. “You said you wanted a marriage in which you were happy to see the same man every morning. Not merely someone handsome or wealthy or respectable. You said you wanted someone whose company did not become tiresome when there was nothing exciting happening.”

Augusta remembered. She had been seventeen and terribly certain that love could be planned if one had sufficient standards.

“I was younger, and had different ideas,” she said. “I’m sure that I have a more practical view of marriage now.”

“You were,” Charity agreed. “But I think you understood something important.”

Augusta looked down at her gloves.

Charity continued quietly, “Are you happy when Ronan comes into a room?”

The answer came too easily: “Yes.”

“Do you look forward to speaking to him?”

“Yes, we disagree on a lot of things but it is something that I like doing.”

“Do you think about him when he is not there?”

Augusta gave her sister a pointed look. “Apparently constantly.”

That made them laugh. Even Augusta smiled.

Charity squeezed her hand again. “Then perhaps you already know.”

Augusta’s smile faded. The thought had been circling her for days, perhaps longer. She had simply refused to give it a name.

Now, surrounded by three women who had each traveled their own difficult path toward happiness, it suddenly felt impossible to avoid.