Relief from the strain of having to hold herself so icy and uninterested in his presence, when she was burning inside.
“Do you love him so much?” Avril asked quietly.
Celine spun around with a jerk, surprised by the unexpected question. “No! I ... I mean, I—”
“You may be able to deny it to him. You may even be able to deny it to yourself.” A bittersweet smile crossed the younger woman’s pretty features. “But it is clear in every small glance you give him, when he does not know that you are looking.”
Celine’s stomach knotted. She stared down at her toes, misery piling upon misery. Was it so obvious, this love she had barely begun to admit, even to herself? “I ... I can’t love him.”
She thought of the eclipse that was growing closer with every passing week. And of the pain in her back, the recurring ache that she prayed was caused only by the long days of riding, though she knew better.
Of what might happen to her before she had time to return to Gaston’s castle.
Of Tourelle’s threat about what would happen to Gaston if their marriage was ever consummated.
And none of that changed the way she felt about him.
“I can’t love him,” she repeated, not sure which of them she was trying to convince. “I can’t stay with him. It’s ... it’s very complicated.”
“He does not return your feelings?”
Celine shook her head. “No. Not in the least. But that’s not it. Even if he did, we could never—”
“Nay, you cannot think that way, Lady Celine. When you find love, you must catch it close and hold it tight. Do not let it go so easily.”
Celine lifted her head just in time to see a new tear slide down Avril’s cheek, and she felt a wave of sorrow for what the younger woman had lost.
And for what she herself would never know.
“He ... doesn’t believe in love,” Celine whispered, swallowing hard. “He can’t even see it when it’s right in front of his eyes. That’s why he keeps making that infuriating suggestion that you remarry—he can’t see that you obviously loved Gerard deeply. He thinks husbands only exist to manage and protect, and wives only exist to provide land and heirs.”
Avril sighed heavily, nodding, her lashes drooping. Suddenly she looked very young and very tired and very pregnant.
“I’m sorry, Avril.” Celine walked over to help her back into her chair. “Here I am chattering, as Gaston puts it, and you must be exhausted. And hungry. Would you like me to bring you something to eat?”
“Nay, it is I who must apologize.” Avril refused to sit down. “I have been a poor hostess. You have had a long, fatiguing journey, and you will want to retire early. And you said you were starving. Mayhap we should go and see to supper.”
Celine’s stomach growled as if in agreement. She was pleased to hear Avril mention food, since the servants had said their lady hadn’t been eating. “That’s a good idea. Do you suppose I could stage a bit of a mutiny and take over the kitchen? Cooking is one of my passions and I’d love to make something special for you.”
“A mutiny?”
“An uprising,” Celine clarified.
Avril raised an eyebrow. “Lady Celine, I like you more and more. Off to the kitchens it is.”
They started to walk toward the door. “I suppose,” Celine said, “that Gaston is going to be in a foul mood all through supper. We probably shouldn’t have teased him that way.”
“Fie on it. We shall send one of the servants to his chamber with a tray and a game of tables. That always takes his mind off most anything.”
“A game of tables?” Celine squeaked, stopping in the middle of the room.
“Aye, it is his favorite.”
“And you ... encourage him?”
Avril looked at her strangely. “Should I not?”
Celine frowned, growing suspicious as bits and pieces of the discussion she had had with Gaston on the subject started coming back to her. “Avril, what exactly is ‘tables’?”
“Merely a game.” Avril pointed to a trestle table and chairs in one corner. “I’ve a set there.”
Celine walked over and looked down at the objects Avril had indicated. “I see.” Her frown deepened. “Avril, I think that after supper, I am going to have to have a conversation with my husband about one of his favorite subjects.” She turned and moved toward the door with a new snap in her step. “Lies.”
Chapter 18
Backgammon.
Celine had planned a truly satisfying scene around that word. A veritable festival of righteous indignation. Gaston had led her to believe he was sleeping with every pretty girl within arm’s reach, when the whole time he had been playing backgammon.