Page 130 of Courting the Wrong Duke

Rosalind gripped the edge of the table.

“He knows.”

Nelly frowned. “My lady?”

“Algernon knows what happened to Papa.” The conclusion came so swiftly now that Rosalind could scarcely separate one thought from the next. “Perhaps he was the one who sent the carriage. He could have arranged everything.”

“We don’t know that he harmed your father.”

“No, but we know he lied.”

And once Rosalind allowed herself to think the word, she could not stop seeing the lies everywhere.

Algernon had lied to William about leaving London. Augusta had given Rosalind a story no one could confirm. Only a short while ago, she had sat weeping in this very house and warned Rosalind that she was fortunate to be getting the less complicated brother.

At the time, Rosalind had wondered what she meant.

Now she was no longer certain she wanted to know.

Movement across the lawn caught her attention. William was coming toward them.

Rosalind’s first instinct was relief. Her second was fear. It struck so quickly that she stepped backward, and Nelly immediately reached for her arm.

“My lady?”

“We need to leave.”

Nelly followed her gaze. “Now?”

“Yes. Please. Get our things.”

“But Lord William—”

“I do not know what he knows.”

The admission hurt almost as much as it frightened her.

Less than an hour ago, William had stood in the gallery holding her hand and apologizing because he believed he had failed her. He had searched beside her for weeks and trusted her that morning with truths that had shaken everything he believed about his own family.

She wanted to trust him. She did trust him.

Or she had…

Rosalind no longer knew the difference.

All she knew was that his brother’s carriage had taken her father away, his sister-in-law had tried to send Rosalind searching in another direction, and William belonged to the family at the center of it all.

“Go,” she whispered.

Nelly hurried toward the house.

By then William was close enough for Rosalind to see the concern replace the smile on his face. He quickened his pace, and she forced herself to think of something plausible to say. The heat. A headache. Her mother expecting her home. Anything that would allow her to leave without revealing what she knew.

“Rosalind?”

She opened her mouth, but the words would not come.

The garden shifted beneath her feet.