Page 119 of Courting the Wrong Duke

Rosalind meant to retreat without intruding, but Augusta looked up before she could.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to disturb you.”

“You needn't apologize. You were only passing.”

Seeing her brought their conversation at the ball back to Rosalind. “I did want to thank you for telling me what you had heard about my father.”

Augusta’s fingers tightened around the handkerchief.

“We've made further inquiries, but no one seems to have heard the same story. I confess I was nearly prepared to organize a search of half of London.”

“I told you only what I had heard.” Augusta’s reply came more sharply than Rosalind expected. “I was trying to help.”

“Of course. I did not mean otherwise.”

Augusta looked away. “Then I am sorry it led nowhere. Lately, I fear I have been under rather more strain than usual.”

The admission softened Rosalind. “William explained some of what has been happening with Algernon. Not everything, but enough that I understand how difficult things have been.”

Augusta gave a faint, humorless smile. “Difficult is certainly one word for it.”

Something in her tone put Rosalind on alert.

“You are fortunate, Lady Rosalind.”

Rosalind frowned. “Fortunate?”

“You are getting the less complicated brother.”

The remark might have passed for a joke if not for the bitterness beneath it.

Rosalind felt the uneasiness she had carried home that morning stir once more.

Augusta knew something.

The question was whether it had anything to do with what Algernon was hiding.

Chapter 17

William waited longer than he intended before leaving the drawing room.

At first he told himself his mother and Rosalind had only just begun their tour and that following them too quickly would make him look ridiculous. Then twenty minutes became thirty, and the book he had taken from the table remained open upon the same page while his thoughts wandered everywhere except the words before him.

He was glad Rosalind had come.

The admission felt almost embarrassingly simple after everything the last day had contained, but there was no point denying it. The house had seemed lighter from the moment she entered it. Even his mother, who had spent most of the morning troubled by everything Algernon revealed, had brightened in Rosalind's company.

William had too.

That did not mean the weight of the previous night had disappeared. His brother's confession remained lodged somewhere painfully beneath his ribs, altering memories William had never expected to question. Yet beneath that confusion was another frustration he could not ignore.

Lord Eastmere was still missing.

For all the questions they had asked and every faint lead they had pursued, they seemed no closer to finding him than when they began. The auction clerk had vanished. The horse remained unclaimed. Every inquiry opened another door only to reveal an empty room beyond it.

William had promised Rosalind he would help.

Lately, it felt as though promising was all he had managed to accomplish.