Page 132 of Courting the Wrong Duke

His attention shifted to the maid. “Where?”

“Here.”

For a moment, William did not understand.

Rosalind rose, ignoring his attempt to steady her. “The servants at White’s gave Nelly a more precise description. Dark bodywork, gilt upon the doors, distinctive brass fittings. She saw a carriage matching it while she was belowstairs and asked one of your grooms who it belonged to.”

Something cold settled in William’s stomach.

“It belongs to Algernon,” she said.

William stared at her. “You are certain?”

“Your groom confirmed it.”

Lord Eastmere had left White’s willingly in his brother’s carriage on the night he disappeared.

William struggled to make the pieces fit. “That does not make sense.”

“It does if Algernon has been lying.”

“Rosalind, we do not know that.”

“I saw him last night.”

William drew breath to answer, but she shook her head.

“I saw him, William. I let myself believe I might have been mistaken because you were so certain he had left London. Then he looked you in the face this morning and denied being at the ball.”

The quietness of her voice made the accusation land harder than shouting would have.

“And there is more.” Rosalind glanced again toward the lawn before continuing. “Augusta told me there were rumors Papa had been seen elsewhere in London with another woman. Nelly has made inquiries. No one has heard such a story. Not a maid, coachman, servant, or anyone else likely to have noticed.”

William stared at her.

Augusta had lied too?

“Now I discover Papa disappeared in Algernon’s carriage.” Rosalind swallowed. “How many coincidences am I supposed to ignore?”

“None.” William stepped closer. “But I knew nothing about the carriage. I knew nothing about what Augusta told you.”

“I believe you.”

He stopped. Somehow, those three words offered no relief at all.

Rosalind’s anger faltered, and beneath it he finally saw what had been there from the beginning.

Fear.

“That is the problem,” she whispered. “I believe that you did not know.”

William felt something inside him sink.

Only that morning, he had stood before her and confessed how deeply it had shaken him to discover how much his own family had concealed from him.

Now that same ignorance stood between them.

“Yesterday, you believed Algernon had left London because he told you he had. You believed I must have seen someone else because he denied being at the ball.” Her voice trembled despite her effort to control it. “And I believed you because I trusted you more than I trusted what I had seen with my own eyes.”