Page 36 of Courting the Wrong Duke

Rosalind did the same a moment later.

Their hands met between carved leaves and worn gold.

Neither moved, and for the briefest instant they simply looked at one another, the years between childhood and now seeming strangely uncertain.

Then Rosalind stepped back, breaking the spell.

William lowered his hand, forcing himself to look once more at the painting instead of at her.

“There is something else I discovered today.”

She looked at him immediately. “What is it?”

“It concerns your father. I think—”

“Well.”

The single word cut neatly between them.

Sophronia appeared at William's elbow, smiling with effortless grace.

“Lady Rosalind,” she said warmly. “I do hope you will forgive me for interrupting.”

Her gaze shifted to William.

“I could not help thinking Lady Rosalind has endured quite enough gossip for one Season. I should hate for anyone to misunderstand such a prolonged conversation.”

She smiled as though she had offered Rosalind the greatest kindness imaginable.

“Lord William, might I borrow you for a moment?”

William met Sophronia's expectant smile before looking once more toward Rosalind.

He could not shake the uncomfortable suspicion that the interruption had been anything but accidental.

Chapter 6

For one fleeting moment, she thought William might refuse.

Instead, he offered her an apologetic glance before following Sophronia into the neighboring gallery.

Whatever he had intended to tell her about her father would have to wait.

She remained before the painting for another moment, though she no longer saw it. The quiet freedom she had imagined within its lonely hills had vanished the instant Sophronia arrived, replaced once more by the familiar weight pressing against her chest.

This had been a mistake.

She should have remained at home.

No clues had appeared. No miraculous revelation had presented itself. Instead she had endured whispered speculation, polished insults, and yet another reminder that society already regarded her family as something to pity... or avoid.

Drawing a slow breath, Rosalind turned from the painting and wandered into the adjoining gallery.

A refreshment table had been arranged beneath one of the tall windows overlooking Pall Mall. Footmen moved discreetly among the guests, replenishing glasses of lemonade and wine while conversations rose and fell around them.

The Dowager Duchess stood nearby with the Duchess of Aldermere.

The dowager noticed her almost immediately. “Lady Rosalind.”