Page 137 of Courting the Wrong Duke

Gabriel was still waiting.

And William suddenly had considerably more to tell him than he had when he decided to go.

Chapter 20

The worst of Rosalind’s anger had begun to cool by the time they were halfway home.

Unfortunately, that left room for everything else.

Hurt. Confusion. Fear.

And beneath all three, the memory of William standing beside the pond, looking at her as though she had struck him.

I have never lied to you.

She believed him. That was the infuriating part.

Rosalind leaned her head against the cushioned squabs and watched London pass beyond the window. She had spent the journey turning the same facts over until she could scarcely distinguish one from another.

Algernon’s carriage had collected her father from White’s. Augusta had given her a false rumor no one else appeared to have heard. Algernon had claimed to be away from London when Rosalind knew she had seen him at the ball.

And William had known none of it.

That should have absolved him.

Instead, it frightened her.

She had trusted his certainty because she trusted him, and now she no longer knew how much of what William believed had been carefully constructed for him by the people closest to him.

Rosalind closed her eyes.

Only hours ago, she had held his hands in the square while he confessed how deeply his family’s secrets had wounded him. Later, she had sat across from him at tea and caught him watching her so often that pretending not to notice had become ridiculous.

She had laughed with him in the sunshine and, for a little while, forgotten everything except how happy she was to be there.

Now she had ended something that had never been real in the first place.

That thought hurt far more than it ought to have.

By the time the carriage finally slowed before Carlisle House, Rosalind had regained enough control that she no longer feared bursting into tears the moment someone spoke to her.

She straightened, smoothed her skirts, and waited for the footman to open the door.

The moment she and Nelly entered the house, Rosalind turned to her maid. “I need Isabella.”

Nelly nodded immediately. “Shall I send someone?”

“No. Please go yourself. Tell her I need her opinion, and I need her help.”

Whatever Nelly saw in Rosalind’s face prevented further questions. “I’ll bring her.”

“Thank you.”

Nelly hurried away while Rosalind continued into the main drawing room, hoping to reach the stairs before encountering anyone else.

Naturally, her mother was there.

The countess looked up from her correspondence with immediate interest. “There you are. I was beginning to wonder whether the dowager intended to keep you for dinner as well.”