Page 54 of The Duke’s Masked Wallflower

Baron Winthrop was very unlike his daughter, who was more serious and private, but not unpleasant by any means. And he seemed to love his daughters unconditionally, which struck Gabriel as a rarer thing than it ought to be.

When the baron and baroness had departed, rattling off down the drive with a flurry of good wishes, it left Rosalie and her sister alone in the drawing room. Gabriel, returning to the door and lingering there without reason to remain, watched something turn in Rosalie’s posture the moment their parents were out of sight.

Intending to find out what had stirred her, he asked, “Shall we walk before the weather turns, like your mother predicted it would?”

The question had been mostly addressed to Rosalie, though it was her sister who answered first.

“What a wonderful idea. I have heard so much about your fields, Your Grace, and I confess my legs are so very restless from my long journey south.”

Once they reached the corridor, Rosalie’s hand went briefly to her temple. “I find I have... a migraine coming on,” she said. “Anna’s arrival was a happy surprise, but a surprise all the same, and with the weather turning so suddenly... I think I ought to rest rather than walk. But please, go ahead without me.”

Lady Howard’s eyes flicked to her sister, assessing perhaps, or simply concerned, before she smiled and let it go. “Rest then, Rosie. I shall report back when I return indoors.”

Rosalie excused herself with a small curtsy. Moments later, Gabriel found himself walking toward the garden with Annabelle Howard, watching Rosalie’s retreat through the window as she disappeared up the staircase.

“It is a funny little habit of hers,” Lady Howard said once they were outside, following his gaze to the abbey. “Retreating into herself, I mean. She has done it her whole life. I used to think it was... Oh, what would you say? A natural timidity? When we were girls, she was even worse. But I have come to think it is something more deliberate than that. She does not like being alone with people. She prefers her own company much of the time.”

Gabriel was surprised by the sudden change of topic. “I have not found that to be true.”

“And you would know, would you not, being that you are courting her?” Lady Howard’s age was impossible to guess, not far from his own age, maybe. But the way she spoke made Gabriel feel like a child. “My mother has been writing to me tirelessly about your courtship. Of course, I am so very pleased about your interest in my sister, Your Grace. On her behalf, I may say it is an honor to be considered by you. My family is not what one might consider to be of the highest stock. We have good breeding, of course. But my parents... and their bohemian ways... And my sister, so reserved and bookish...”

Gabriel was not sure whether to be impressed by her candor or put out by it. He stopped at the base of the terrace. Lady Howard looked up at him, from two steps down.

“That is hardly a shining endorsement. Most elder sisters in your position would be lying to inflate the reputation of their family, rather than denigrate them,” he said with mirth. “Is this usual for you?”

“In that I have spoken the truth? Yes, it is entirely usual. What is the point in pretending that things are otherwise? I would not have anyone entering this courtship blindly, especially my sister, whom I love so much. Truly, I should have been here from the first to guide the thing.”

He raised a brow. “Am I to understand you have some expertise in these matters that would explain your position?”

The sister’s hair was a shade darker and duller than Rosalie’s, more typical of an English beauty, but less radiant in the sun. “I am successfully married. I wish the same for my sister. She is very dear to me, as I said.”

“And yet you speak of her as though she were not capable of attracting a husband on her own merit.”

“Do I really?” Lady Howard considered this, then retraced her steps until she met him on the terrace again. “That was not my intention. I only mean that she has always been overlooked, and now I find someone from your station looking, and... Would you not feel the same in my shoes? Rosalie, tucked in a corner with a book while the rest of us danced. That is the image that sticks with me. I have spent a great deal of my life expecting her to never know the happiness she deserves.”

Gabriel bristled at that, though he could not immediately have said why. “I, for one, have not found her quiet. She has fascinated me and indulged me in conversation countless times since we have met.”

“I see,” said Lady Howard, looking mildly impressed. “Then perhaps she has changed. Something to be thrilled about... Or nervous? Time will tell. But let us keep walking, Your Grace. There is so much more to be discussed.”

Agreeing, Gabriel took her down to the river, where some of the other guests were promenading after breakfast. They joined them, and the pleasantries, if they could be called that, resumed. The sky had been threatening all morning to burst open; eventually, the first fat drops of rain arrived. Lady Howard cried out, gathered her skirts, and Gabriel offered his arm, hurrying her back to the house.

“This southern weather,” Lady Howard complained, shaking rain from her bonnet under the shelter of the back portico. “It’s warmer here than in Dumfries, I’ll admit. But the rain can at least make up its mind in Scotland. So decisive; a bit like the Scots.”

“If the weather were easier to predict, we would want for things to talk about,” Gabriel said, watching the rain sheet down across the lawn. “I hardly mind the inconsistency.”

“I am discovering that about you, Your Grace,” Anna said, nodding. “The weather, Rosalie... You like to be kept on your toes.”

Rosalie had barely settled onto her bed, slippers still on, when the door opened without a knock.

“I know you are not ill,” Anna said, coming in already and peeling off her damp gloves. “I have known you all your life, Rosie. You may be able to dupe His Grace, but you cannot lie to me.” She crossed over to the bed and laughed. “Why did you flee?”

“My head hurts,” Rosalie argued, kicking off her shoes. It was only half a lie. She did have a slight headache from lack of sleep, but it was not such a terrible ailment as to excuse her from a walk.

Anna sat on the edge of the bed without being invited. Rosalie watched her sister remove her outer garments, feeling a familiar mix of ease and concern in her presence. Her sister looked the same to her eye as the last time they had seen each other. Her husband treated her kindly, but he had not yet made her a mother.

“I spoke with the Duke of Hartmere.”

Rosalie lay back on the bed and covered her eyes with the back of her hand. “I imagine you did, given that you promenaded with him.”