Page 58 of Courting the Wrong Duke

A knowing smile touched the dowager's lips. “That sounds very much like a mother.”

Rosalind laughed quietly despite herself. “You have not tried reasoning with mine.”

“Oh, I have no intention of competing with Lady Eastmere.”

That earned another small smile.

The dowager gave Rosalind's hand the gentlest squeeze. “Give her time. She is grieving every bit as much as you are.”

Rosalind sighed. “I fear it is impossible to reason with her.”

“Perhaps.” The older woman offered her a small smile. “Or perhaps it is simply too soon.”

She smoothed her skirts before looking down at Rosalind with quiet affection.

“You are more like your father than you realize.”

Rosalind felt her eyes sting once more. “I hope that is true.”

“I assure you,” the dowager said softly, “it is.”

With a final, reassuring smile, she turned and made her way back along the gallery toward the ballroom.

Rosalind watched the dowager slow halfway down the gallery.

A familiar figure stood waiting several paces away.

William.

Their eyes met briefly. No words passed between mother and son, only the smallest inclination of the dowager's head before she continued on, disappearing into the glow and music spilling from the ballroom.

William remained where he was for another moment, his gaze following his mother until she had gone.

Then he crossed the remaining distance and came to stand beside Rosalind at the window, one hand resting lightly upon the stone balustrade.

For the first time since she had known him, he looked genuinely unsettled.

Heat crept into her cheeks. “How much did you hear?”

His gaze drifted briefly in the direction his mother had gone.

“Enough.” He was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. “She never told me.”

Rosalind frowned. “About my father.”

He rested both hands upon the stone balustrade, his eyes fixed on the moonlit gardens below.

“I knew Lord Eastmere spent time with Algernon. We all did. Father used to joke that he saw more of Algernon than he did some weeks.”

A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth before disappearing.

“And I knew they could spend hours discussing Byron. I simply never realized there was a reason for it.” He shook his head slowly. “I thought Algernon enjoyed his company. That he found it easier to speak with your father than he did most people. I never understood that there was more to it.”

Rosalind watched him in silence.

His expression had taken on a distant quality, as though he were looking back across years he suddenly realized he had never truly understood.

“Nor did I know my father had spoken to him that way.”