Page 166 of Courting the Wrong Duke

And now he might never discover whether she could feel the same.

Shame followed the thought almost immediately.

Tomorrow they would reach Bryn Hir. Rosalind’s father had been missing for weeks, and they had no idea what condition they would find him in. He might be frightened or injured. He might have suffered in ways William could scarcely bear to imagine.

They did not even know for certain that he was alive.

Yet William was lying there worrying about whether Rosalind might ever love him.

He dragged a hand over his face. “God, I am selfish.”

Gabriel frowned. “Why?”

“Because her father may be suffering in that house, and part of me is worried about what this will mean for me.”

“That is hardly all you are worried about.”

“No. But it should not be there at all.”

William pushed himself upright, unable to remain still. “If Algernon is responsible, Rosalind will have to live with what my brother did to her family. She has already spent weeks believing her father abandoned them because someone deliberately made her believe it.”

He paused, struggling against the possibility he had been avoiding since London.

“And if we find Eastmere hurt because of him, I do not know how she will ever look at me without some part of her remembering what Algernon did.”

“You are not your brother.”

“I know. But knowing something and feeling it are different things.” William stared toward the darkened window. “I do not even know whether she trusts me anymore. Not truly. She believed me when I told her I knew nothing about her father, but that is not the same thing.”

Gabriel remained silent.

“Tomorrow I may lead her into Bryn Hir and prove exactly how right she was to doubt my family.” William swallowed. “And somehow I am still selfish enough to be afraid that whatever we find there will destroy any chance I might have had with her.”

The confession left him feeling vaguely ashamed.

He almost wished Gabriel would make a joke. Anything to make it feel less ugly.

Instead, his friend asked quietly, “Is that what you want? A chance with her?”

William looked at him.

“Yes.”

The answer required no thought.

He did not want another few weeks of a false courtship or stolen conversations justified by an investigation. He wanted more peach-colored skies and arguments and afternoons in the garden. He wanted to walk into a room and know he would find her there.

He wanted Rosalind.

And tomorrow he might discover that his own brother had made wanting her the most selfish thing he had ever done.

Gabriel’s expression grew grave. “Then you wait.”

William frowned.

“We do not know what we are going to find tomorrow. If Lord Eastmere is alive and well enough to bring home, you may spend the entire journey back tormenting yourself over whether his daughter loves you.”

“And if he isn’t?”