Page 30 of Courting the Wrong Duke

William's answer came too slowly.

His mother's brows rose. “I see.”

“There is nothing to see.”

“My dear William,” she said gently, “I have known you since the moment you first drew breath. There is always something to see.”

He looked away as the carriage turned onto Piccadilly.

“I had intended,” she continued, “to allow you to make your own introductions in your own time.”

A pause.

“I begin to think that was excessively optimistic.”

William closed his eyes briefly. “Mother.”

“No. You have left me little choice. Since you seem determined to neglect every suitable young lady placed before you, I shall simply have to introduce them myself.”

He laughed under his breath. “You would not.”

“I most certainly would.” She smiled. “And I shall begin this evening.”

William's shoulders sank in theatrical defeat. “I pity the ladies.”

“I pity the gentleman refusing to meet them.”

Silence settled between them once more, companionable rather than awkward, as the carriage continued through the busy streets. His mother seemed content to watch the passing houses for a time, though William had long since learned that such silences usually meant she was considering her next observation with care.

“Lady Eastmere sent me a note this afternoon,” she said at last.

William turned his head. “She was grateful.”

“She was.” A faint smile touched her lips. “More than grateful, I think. You spared her a very public humiliation.”

William remembered the relief that had crossed Lady Rosalind’s face when the invitation had been restored. It had lasted only a moment before worry reclaimed it, but he had seen it nonetheless.

“The Institution behaved poorly,” he said.

“It did.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “And I was pleased to hear you say so. There are far too many gentlemen willing to stand quietly by simply because a matter is... inconvenient.”

William offered no reply.

“I confess I worry for Lady Rosalind.”

“So do I.”

The admission escaped him before he thought better of it.

His mother noticed. Of course she noticed.

“She has been placed in an impossible position,” she said gently. “Society has always been quicker to judge a daughter than the gentleman responsible for her circumstances. None of this is Lady Rosalind's doing, any more than it is her mother's.”

William nodded. “I know.”

His mother folded her hands neatly in her lap, her expression thoughtful rather than reproving. “Compassion is one of your better qualities, William. I would never wish you to lose it.”

He glanced toward her.