Page 126 of Courting the Wrong Duke

For the first time in days, they had somewhere concrete to look.

They stepped from the conservatory into the gardens, and Rosalind immediately searched for somewhere sufficiently private to speak with Nelly.

She had barely turned before the Dowager Duchess spotted them.

“There you are!”

Rosalind stopped.

The dowager stood upon the lawn with Lady Whitcombe, both women holding battledores and looking considerably less dignified than they had inside. A small table had been arranged beneath a nearby tree with lemonade, wine, sliced fruit, and the remnants of whatever refreshments had survived the afternoon.

“Come,” the dowager called. “We require two more.”

Rosalind glanced helplessly toward Nelly.

Her maid’s expression remained serious.

“I believe Lady Rosalind may have intended to—”

“Nonsense,” the dowager interrupted William. “Whatever she intended can wait ten minutes. I have spent the better part of an hour losing to Lady Whitcombe, and I refuse to endure the humiliation alone.”

Lady Whitcombe laughed. “Honoria, you have lost twice.”

“Precisely. A pattern is forming.”

Rosalind could hardly refuse without appearing peculiar.

She caught Nelly’s eye and mouthed, Later.

Nelly did not look particularly pleased about it, but she nodded and withdrew toward the shade near the conservatory.

Only then did Rosalind notice they were not the only guests.

Lady Sophronia stood near the refreshment table with two other young ladies, all three engaged in conversation. At least, they had been until Rosalind appeared.

Now their attention seemed distinctly divided.

Sophronia’s gaze moved from Rosalind to William.

Something unpleasant pinched beneath Rosalind’s ribs.

Ridiculous.

Lady Sophronia was perfectly entitled to stand in the Duke of Aldermere’s garden. She was acquainted with the family, had danced with William only the evening before, and possessed absolutely no knowledge that the courtship everyone believed existed between Rosalind and William was entirely fabricated.

If anything, Rosalind was the one behaving dishonestly.

That did not explain why she suddenly wished Lady Sophronia would find something fascinating to examine on the opposite side of London.

“Rosalind?”

William’s voice pulled her attention back to him. He stood before her holding out a battledore, though the faint amusement in his expression suggested he had noticed precisely where her attention had wandered.

“You appear concerned.”

“Not at all,” Rosalind replied.

His gaze flicked briefly toward Lady Sophronia before returning to her, and the corner of his mouth lifted.