Page 38 of Courting the Wrong Duke

“It was only what was right.”

Rosalind believed her.

She also knew that many others would not have bothered to do what was right if it meant risking criticism themselves.

“I am grateful all the same.”

The dowager reached out and gave her hand the gentlest squeeze. “You are your father's daughter, Lady Rosalind.”

Rosalind felt her throat tighten. “I hope we shall all have the opportunity to prove that very soon.”

Beside the Dowager Duchess, Augusta remained perfectly composed, her attention apparently fixed upon the gallery beyond.

She had spoken scarcely a word.

Yet as Rosalind glanced toward her, she found the duchess already watching her.

Their eyes met.

For the briefest instant, something unreadable passed across Augusta's face before the familiar, faultless smile returned.

It was gone so quickly Rosalind almost convinced herself she had imagined it.

Still, she was left with the uncomfortable sense that the duchess had measured her in those few silent seconds and reached some private conclusion.

Rosalind watched the ladies circulating through the gallery for another few moments before the noise became too much.

“If you will excuse me,” she said quietly. “I believe I should like a little fresh air. I ought to collect my shawl.”

“Of course, my dear,” the dowager replied warmly.

Rosalind had scarcely taken two steps before another voice stopped her.

“If you do not object,” Augusta said, “I find I could use a quieter corridor myself.”

Rosalind blinked. “Certainly… Your Grace.”

She had expected polite indifference from the Duchess of Aldermere, not company. The offer caught her so thoroughly off guard that she accepted before considering whether she ought to.

They left the crowded gallery together, the sounds of conversation fading as they passed into one of the Institution's broader hallways. A servant carrying a tray bowed and stepped aside to allow them passage.

For several moments neither woman spoke.

“I hope you will forgive my husband's reserve,” Augusta said at last.

Rosalind looked at her in surprise.

“His Grace has always been a man of few words.”

Rosalind had not expected the apology either. It was a curious thing for a wife to offer on her husband's behalf, particularly when no offense had truly been given.

“I had not taken offense.”

“No?” Augusta glanced toward her. “Most people do.”

There was something almost curious in the question.

Rosalind considered her answer carefully. “I thought perhaps he had much on his mind.”