Page 55 of Courting the Wrong Duke

Lady Sophronia lifted one gloved hand dramatically to her forehead. “I fear…” she murmured weakly. “…the room has become terribly warm.”

Rosalind stood perfectly still.

William was kneeling beside her now, speaking with quiet concern while another gentleman fetched a chair.

She knew he was doing nothing more than any gentleman ought.

Yet after what she had just overheard, all she could see was a beautiful young woman surrounded by admiration... and the one gentleman she found herself wanting to trust at her side.

The thought was so unfair she almost despised herself for it.

Then William looked up.

Their eyes met across the crowded ballroom. Concern flashed across his face the instant he saw her.

That was all it took. The tears she had fought so desperately to contain blurred her vision.

Before anyone could notice, she turned and hurried from the ballroom, one gloved hand pressed against her mouth as she struggled to keep the tears at bay.

She scarcely noticed where she was going.

One corridor gave way to another, the music fading with each hurried step until it became little more than a distant murmur. Guests wandered in small groups through the broad gallery overlooking the ballroom below, pausing to admire paintings or speak in quiet conversation, but few paid Rosalind any attention.

She continued until she reached a tall window at the far end of the corridor.

Moonlight spilled across the polished floor, silvering the gardens beyond the glass.

She rested one gloved hand against the window frame and drew several slow breaths, willing the tightness in her chest to ease.

“You chose the same refuge I did.”

Rosalind started.

William's mother stood only a few paces away, half concealed beside a marble column where the corridor widened into a small alcove furnished with a pair of chairs and a narrow table. An open book rested forgotten in her hands.

For one dreadful moment, Rosalind considered apologizing and retreating.

Instead she managed an unsteady smile. “I beg your pardon. I did not realize anyone was here.”

The dowager smiled gently as she closed the book.

“My dear,” she said, stepping toward the window beside Rosalind, “I suspect you were not looking where you were going.”

Rosalind looked away, embarrassed. “I am sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

Only then did Rosalind realize she had hastily brushed at her eyes.

She hoped it had gone unnoticed.

Judging by the dowager's expression, it had not.

Instead of pressing the matter, the older woman simply turned to look out over the moonlit gardens beside her.

“I spoke with your mother earlier this evening.”

Rosalind lowered her eyes.