Page 85 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

Alethea laughed. “Perhaps not this afternoon.”

“Why not?”

“Because Augusta has only just admitted it to herself.”

Charity nodded. “There is no need to rush into a declaration simply because we have bullied you into understanding your own feelings.”

“But what if he does not feel the same way?”

It was the fear beneath all the others. Ronan had married her for Sarah. But love was something else.

Charity seemed to understand. “Then you will survive knowing the truth. But Augusta, I do not think you should assume he feels nothing merely because he has not said it.”

Temperance leaned forward. “He is attending the ball.”

Augusta frowned. “What does that prove?”

“You have spent half the morning telling us that he dislikes society.” Temperance spread her hands. “Yet when Gregory offered to keep you company at the ball, Ravenhill suddenly discovered an urgent passion for social gatherings.”

Alethea’s lips curved. “That is interesting.”

Augusta thought back to dinner and Ronan’s glare whenever Gregory made her laugh.

“I am not going to build an entire theory of my marriage around a ball,” Augusta said, mostly for her own benefit.

Temperance smiled. “Of course not.”

A moment later Madame Laroque appeared.

“Forgive me, Your Graces, but Lady Phillipa Hewes has arrived for her appointment. I remembered that you were acquainted and thought I should mention it before bringing her through.”

Augusta straightened. “Please send her in,” she said.

Phillipa appeared a few minutes later wearing a pale walking dress and an expression of mild surprise when she discovered the entire group assembled in the fitting room.

“Well,” she said, smiling, “I had been told that choosing a gown required advice, but I did not realize Augusta had convened a council.”

Temperance rose. “You arrived at an excellent time. We are preventing her from wearing pale blue for the sixth time.”

“Fifth,” Augusta corrected.

Phillipa laughed. “Then I support the council.”

Augusta pointed toward the door. “You may leave.”

“I have only just arrived.”

Phillipa came farther into the room, greeting Charity, Temperance, and Alethea before settling into the empty chair near Augusta. There was an ease between them now that had not existed during their Seasons. The old rivalry had not vanished completely, but its sharper edges had softened once neither of them was competing for the same future.

“You are shopping for the ball?” Augusta asked.

“I am. Mama has decided my entire wardrobe requires renewal now that everyone believes I was left devastated at the altar.”

Temperance winced. “Society is charming.”

“Society is bored,” Phillipa replied. “I am apparently expected to look either tragically pale or defiantly magnificent. There seems to be no acceptable middle ground.”

Augusta smiled. “And which have you chosen?”