Page 24 of A Duke, a Spinster, and her Stolen List (Duchesses of Ice #1)

She wanted to change the topic, but her question was also genuine. Even though she hated the ton and their restrictive rules, a small part of her missed the familiarity of it all.

Helena sighed, her smile softening as she clasped her hands and leaned back, the settee creaking under her weight. “Chastity, Faith, and Grace are, as ever, the bane of my existence,” she scoffed, even though her lips still held her smile.

“They’re all giggles and ribbons, constantly dreaming of the next event. I dread it, Celine. The balls, the matchmaking mamas, the endless fittings! I just want to live quietly in a cottage with my books and a cat.” She sighed again.

Dahlia’s brow arched, her smile sly as she sipped her tea, the porcelain cup clinking softly. “You would tire of solitude in a week,” she snorted.

“What?” Helena gasped.

“I’m sorry, Helena. I have to agree with Dahlia on this one.” Celine tried to stifle a laugh when she saw Helena’s shocked face.

“It’s true. You’d shrivel up if you went one day without chastising anyone,” Dahlia teased.

“Why would you say that?” Helena said with a small huff.

Celine burst into laughter. She had forgotten just how much she missed this.

“If your sisters need guidance, I’ll see to it that they debut properly. I’ll teach them everything a lady should know—dancing, etiquette, and everything in between.”

Helena laughed this time, her curls bouncing as she waved a hand. “Oh no, you don’t, Dahlia!” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Knowing you, you’d probably drag them into something scandalous!”

“So I’m a troublemaker?” Dahlia asked, holding her hands to her chest in mock offense.

“Of course!” Celine and Helena chorused.

Dahlia grinned, her eyes glinting with her usual mischief. “I will not stand for this slander,” she murmured as she reached for a biscuit. “Hmm, Celine, you need to get me the recipe. It tastes amazing.”

“Sure thing, Dahlia,” Celine drawled, still trying to stop herself from grinning.

Helena’s smile softened, her eyes narrowing as she studied Celine. “You seem… distant. Is your new role weighing on you?”

Her question was careful, and Celine could sense the warmth in her words.

Helena’s perceptive gaze tore through the facade she had put up, and Celine found herself panicking slightly. Her fingers curled into her skirt, and her smile faltered.

She had to think of something. Quickly.

“It’s… new,” she started softly, her eyes dropping to the tea tray to avoid Helena’s gaze. “The manor’s quiet, and Rhys is… busy.”

If she was going to fool her friends into thinking that everything was all right, she couldn’t lie. Helena would call her out almost instantly. Vague truths were her only way out.

“I thought your visit might… liven things up.” Her eyes glistened as she spoke, the ache in her chest growing worse without warning, suffocating her slightly.

Helena leaned forward, her voice softening as her hand reached for Celine’s. “We’re here now,” she spoke warmly, her hazel eyes earnest. “And we’ll make this manor sing. But, I don’t know, Celine… you still don’t seem yourself. Is there anything else?” Her question was gentle.

So much for being saved by vague truths.

“I’m just… adjusting,” Celine answered, her voice shaky, forcing a smile. “The estate’s overwhelming, that’s all.”

“You know you can tell us anything, right?” Dahlia chimed in. “Your marriage doesn’t change the fact that you’re our best friend.”

Celine’s hand stilled, her heart racing slightly. The memory of Rhys’s vow in the study and his firm assurance that their marriage would remain childfree fed the ache in her chest, making it churn and twist her insides.

Dahlia was right. These were her closest companions. She didn’t have to hide her pain from them.

“It’s… Rhys,” she finally admitted.

The tension eased off her back like she had dropped a weight she hadn’t known she’d been holding onto.

“He told me something a few nights ago, after—well, there was an emergency in the stables, and I helped. I suppose neither of us was quite at our most rational.”

Her words were careful, as if she were afraid she would stumble over them. Her breath came out shallow, and the scent of jasmine grounded her as she pushed forward.

Dahlia’s brow arched, her tea forgotten as she leaned forward. “The Duke? What did he say?” she asked, her voice eager, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “You look like he’s declared he’s joining a monastery.”

Her tease was playful, but she held Celine’s gaze, urging her to speak.

Helena paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, “Dahlia, let her talk,” she said, and turned away to set down her teacup with a soft clink. “What is it, Celine? You can tell us.”

She met Celine’s gaze again, her eyes warm, offering a safe harbor for her friend, the room’s quiet amplified by her words.

Celine swallowed, her fingers finding and twisting her reticule, as she often did when she was nervous. Her heart pounded as she braced herself. The words felt stale in her mouth.

“He… he vowed never to father a child,” she revealed, her voice barely audible.

The flush that had colored her cheeks earlier faded slowly. She couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes when she looked at her friends.

“He said it in the study, after we saved the foal. He’s decided—has always decided—he’ll never sire an heir. I don’t know why, but somehow, it felt like a punch to the gut when he told me that night.”

Her words were raw, the ache in her chest sharpening as she spoke. Rhys’s vow was a wall that both protected and confined her.

Helena’s eyes widened, her lips parting as she leaned back in her seat. “Never? But… why?” she asked, her voice soft.

All Celine could offer in response was a shrug.

“Celine, you lost your mother to childbirth. I know how that haunts you.” Helena continued. “I thought you’d… want that—a life without that risk.”

Her words were soft, familiar even. They were words Celine had repeated to herself since that night.

Dahlia’s gaze softened as well. She stilled her fingers on the table, her poise masking a flicker of surprise. “That’s… a significant choice,” she said, the hesitation in her choice of words clear. “And it troubles you, doesn’t it? More than you expected.”

Her question carried the weight of something else.

Celine’s breath caught, and she tightened her fingers on her ribbons, her heart racing as she nodded, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

“It’s not just that,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Oh,” Helena whispered.

“He decided this before we got married, without telling me. He knew he’d never want children, and he didn’t… didn’t think to ask me what I wanted.”

She couldn’t stop her words from spilling out; they tumbled out faster than she could process them.

Her voice rose with a mix of hurt and frustration that had now birthed an emotion she had never felt before. “What if I wanted children? What if… I do?” Her voice faded into a whisper.

She lowered her eyes to the table, unwilling to meet their stares.

Helena reached for Celine’s hand, her touch warm, her voice gentle. “That’s… unfair of him,” she said softly and gave her hand a firm shake. “He shouldn’t have kept you in the dark or decided without you. But, Celine… Perhaps he has a good reason for not telling you?”

Her words were careful, like she didn’t fully believe them either.

Dahlia shook her head. “There’s no excuse; he should have told you.” The usual mischief in her eyes was gone, replaced with a sternness that Celine rarely saw. “A marriage, even one like yours, deserves honesty.”

“But you’re here now, Celine,” Helena insisted. “What do you want to do now?”

Her question was direct, inviting Celine to face her ache, though she stopped short of naming it.

Celine’s heart clenched, her eyes glistening, but she kept her gaze on the teacups on the mahogany table in front of her.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely audible. She brushed a stray curl from her face with trembling fingers. “I thought I wanted safety—no love, no risk. But now… I feel like I’ve lost something I didn’t even know I wanted.”

Her admission was raw. No more vagueness.

The memory of the foal’s survival, Rhys’s care, stirred a longing she couldn’t name.

Helena squeezed her hand and gave her a warm smile, slightly tinged with concern. “You don’t have to know yet,” she said softly, though her eyes were filled with determination. “As long as you know you’re not alone, Celine.”

“Yes,” Dahlia affirmed. “We’re here, and we’ll help you as best as we can. Just don’t let his choice define yours. You’re stronger than you think.”

Celine nodded, her smile shaky as she glanced out the window, the gardens’ wild roses visible through the glass, a reminder of Rhys’s absence, his vow, her ache.

Her friends’ presence was a balm to her soul. Their chatter filled the quiet that had dominated the room, but her distraction persisted. Rhys lingered on her mind.

Seeing his certainty, could she ever convince him if she decided that she wanted children?