Page 103 of Courting the Wrong Duke

“Not yet. They've remembered the carriage, but no one can recall whose it was. They're still asking.”

Rosalind rested her gaze on the bustling streets beyond the window, watching shopkeepers sweep their doorsteps while apprentices hurried about their morning errands.

“That changes everything.”

Nelly waited quietly.

“If Father had intended to disappear of his own accord,” Rosalind said at last, “he would hardly have taken the trouble to bid his friends goodnight as though he expected to see them again. Nor does it fit the idea that he simply wished to be left alone for a time. A man seeking solitude does not climb willingly into another gentleman's luxurious carriage.”

“No, my lady.”

“And it explains nothing about the Byron letter.”

She folded her hands together, frustration mounting as every new discovery seemed only to deepen the mystery.

The letter suggested one thing. The carriage suggested another.

Augusta's whispered rumor suggested something else entirely.

Instead of forming a picture, each piece only made the others harder to understand.

“There is something else,” Nelly said after a moment. “I asked as discreetly as I could about the story Her Grace repeated.”

Rosalind looked up immediately. “And?”

“I found nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“The maids know of no such gossip. Neither do the coachmen or the stable boys. No one has heard that your father was seen across London with another woman. If such a story exists, it certainly hasn't found its way into the servants' hall.”

Rosalind felt her brow knit.

That troubled her far more than she expected.

Servants were the keepers of every household's secrets. They noticed who came and went, who quarreled, who lingered too long in drawing rooms, and who returned home smelling of perfume that did not belong to their wives. Rumors spread among them with astonishing speed.

If none of them had heard such a story, where had Augusta heard it?

More importantly, why had she chosen to repeat it?

Rosalind drew a slow breath. Until she knew more, she would say nothing. There had already been too many rumors, too many half-truths masquerading as facts.

Her gaze drifted once more to William's note. “I also want to know whether Lord William has heard about the carriage.”

Nelly looked at her curiously. “You think he may already know?”

Rosalind traced the folded edge of the paper with her thumb. “I cannot say. If he does, I should like to see whether he tells me of it before I mention it myself.”

The thought lingered with her as the carriage rolled steadily through London's morning streets. Perhaps that was the reason for his urgent summons. Perhaps he had uncovered the same lead entirely independently.

Whatever the explanation, she would soon have her answer.

“One more thing, Nelly. Would you continue making inquiries about the auction house? I would like to know everything you can discover about the missing clerk. If anyone has heard where he went, or why he abandoned his position so suddenly, I want to hear of it.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Rosalind smiled. “I sometimes think you accomplish more than half the gentlemen in London.”