Page 40 of Courting the Wrong Duke

“It is.” For the first time, something almost resembling humor softened Augusta's expression. “But it is necessary.”

Her gaze drifted toward the window overlooking Pall Mall.

“The Season moves quickly. Reputations can change just as quickly.”

Rosalind understood what she was truly saying. “You think I should marry.”

“I think,” Augusta replied carefully, “that uncertainty rarely improves with time. If your father's absence continues, gentlemen who might overlook today's gossip may become reluctant tomorrow.”

Rosalind knew she was right.

She simply wished the right course did not feel so terribly unfair.

“And you?” Rosalind asked before she could stop herself. “Surely no one concerns themselves with Your Grace's affairs.”

A quiet laugh escaped Augusta. “My dear, they concern themselves with little else.”

Rosalind frowned. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“You should not.”

Augusta's smile held no amusement now. “My marriage has produced no heir.”

The words were spoken matter-of-factly, yet Rosalind sensed the weight beneath them.

“For nearly four years, that has been society's preferred subject whenever I leave a room.”

Rosalind looked at the duchess differently.

Until now she had seen only the immaculate gowns, the effortless composure, the title that commanded every room she entered.

She had not considered what it might cost to maintain such composure beneath the relentless scrutiny of society.

The realization left her unexpectedly ashamed of her first impression.

“I... I had no idea.”

“Of course you did not.” Augusta adjusted one of her gloves with practiced precision. “People rarely gossip to one's face.”

She looked toward Rosalind again.

“They simply ensure the whispers are loud enough to be overheard.”

Rosalind understood that all too well.

For the first time that evening, she saw not the Duchess of Aldermere, but another woman who knew precisely how merciless society could be.

Augusta accepted her shawl from the attendant before turning back to Rosalind. “I hope we shall meet again under happier circumstances, Lady Rosalind.”

“As do I.”

The duchess inclined her head with effortless grace before disappearing back toward the exhibition, her pale skirts vanishing around the corner.

Rosalind watched her go.

She still could not decide what to make of the woman.

There had been genuine kindness in Augusta's words. Rosalind was certain of that.