Page 17 of Courting the Wrong Duke

Gabriel spoke of paintings for perhaps the first two streets, speculating whether a recently discovered landscape truly belonged to Constable or whether an ambitious dealer had merely attached the master's name to an ordinary canvas.

William heard scarcely half of it.

Every few moments his thoughts drifted back to Hyde Park tomorrow. To Lady Rosalind's eyes as she had accused him of knowing more than he admitted. They had burned with equal measures of suspicion and desperation.

He could not resent her for either.

“You are thinking about Lady Rosalind.”

William kept his attention fixed upon the rain-speckled window. “I am thinking about Lord Eastmere.”

Gabriel's quiet chuckle suggested he found little distinction between the two. “You can think about both.”

William offered no denial as the silence stretched comfortably between them.

At last Gabriel released an exaggerated sigh. “I shall spare you my wisdom, then.”

William glanced sideways. “That would be a welcome change.”

Gabriel pressed a hand dramatically against his heart. “It would also be unprecedented.”

Despite himself, William smiled. The expression surprised him almost as much as it did Gabriel.

“There he is,” Gabriel declared. “I was beginning to fear Lady Rosalind had frightened away your sense of humor.”

William looked back toward the window, though this time the corners of his mouth lingered upward. “She has done nothing of the sort.”

Though she had managed something else entirely.

She had unsettled him.

Not merely because she had accused him. But because, beneath every sharp question and every flash of temper, he had seen unmistakable fear.

Fear for a father William himself had admired since boyhood.

By the time the carriage stopped outside Gabriel's townhouse, the rain had dwindled to a fine mist that hung in the evening air. The wet cobblestones gleamed beneath the gas lamps, reflecting ribbons of pale gold across the street.

Gabriel climbed down first before pausing beside the open carriage door. “Hyde Park tomorrow?”

William nodded. “Hyde Park.”

“I imagine Lady Rosalind will either apologize or shoot you.”

William gave a thoughtful hum. “She struck me as more likely to choose the latter.”

Gabriel laughed as he stepped backward onto the pavement. “Yes, I rather agree.”

William watched him disappear through his front door before rapping lightly against the carriage roof.

The coach lurched forward once more.

Only a few streets separated Gabriel's residence from his own family townhouse, yet the remainder of the journey passed in thoughtful silence.

William found himself watching the city slide past instead of seeing it.

Somewhere in London, Lady Rosalind was likely enduring the same restless evening, searching for answers that neither of them possessed.

He disliked how powerless that thought made him feel.