Page 11 of Courting the Wrong Duke

Isabella reached across the carriage and quietly took her hand.

“The magistrate has accomplished nothing. Every question leads nowhere, and society has already decided the rest.”

A bitter laugh escaped her.

“They say he abandoned Mama. That he found another woman.” She shook her head fiercely. “They did not know him. He would never leave us without a word.”

The certainty settled deep inside her.

She had spent twenty-three years watching her father greet every stable hand by name, listening to him speak kindly even to those who disagreed with him, finding him waiting outside the music room simply to ask what piece she had been practicing.

A man like that did not simply disappear.

Nor did he abandon the family he loved.

The remainder of the journey passed in thoughtful silence. Isabella never released her hand, and by the time the carriage rolled to a stop before the Carlisle townhouse, Rosalind had gathered enough composure to lift her chin.

The footman opened the door.

Together, she and Isabella climbed the front steps and entered the familiar warmth of the house.

Lady Eastmere met them before they had crossed half the entrance hall.

“Where have you been?”

Relief flashed across her mother's face so quickly that Rosalind almost missed it.

It lasted only a heartbeat before irritation swallowed it whole.

“I have had callers all afternoon asking after your father, while my daughter has been confronting gentlemen outside a gentlemen’s club.”

Isabella sensed the brewing storm immediately.

“If you'll excuse me, Lady Eastmere,” she said gently. “I believe I will go upstairs and give you both a moment.”

She managed a distracted nod. “Of course, Miss Hartwell.”

Isabella gave Rosalind's hand the briefest squeeze as she passed before quietly making her way toward the staircase.

Rosalind watched her disappear for only a moment before turning back to her mother.

“I was making enquiries.”

“You were confronting Lord William Sinclair.”

Rosalind stopped. “You already know?”

“Half of London will know by dinner.”

Heat climbed into Rosalind's cheeks. She had known people would see her outside the club. She had not imagined the gossip would outrun her carriage home.

Her mother pressed trembling fingers against her temple. “Do you have any notion what people will say?”

“I care very little what people say.”

“You should care very much.”

“They are saying Papa abandoned us.”