Page 6 of Courting the Wrong Duke

The accusation settled between them with the cold certainty of a verdict.

She believed he had something to do with Lord Eastmere's disappearance.

Chapter 2

Rosalind had imagined this confrontation a hundred different ways over the past three days.

Every version ended differently.

Sometimes he denied knowing anything. Sometimes he lost his temper. Sometimes he betrayed himself with a careless word or an expression he could not conceal.

Only once did he tell her where her father was.

She had clung to that version more desperately than she cared to admit.

She had almost convinced herself she would see guilt the moment she looked into his eyes.

Instead she found surprise. Honest surprise.

It unsettled her far more than anger would have.

She had known William for her whole life.

Their fathers had been friends long before either of them had understood what friendship meant.

Summers at Aldermere had blurred together into races through gardens, muddy boots, stolen fruit, and arguments over absolutely everything. She had never won those arguments because William possessed the infuriating habit of laughing until she laughed too.

The years had changed him.

The lanky boy she remembered had become a broad-shouldered gentleman whose easy smile had long since become familiar in London drawing rooms.

But surely character did not change so completely. Surely the boy her father had trusted had not become a man capable of betraying him.

The thought hurt almost as much as the disappearance itself.

Yet facts remained stubborn things.

Lord William had been the last person to see her father.

Until someone proved otherwise, she could not allow memories to blind her.

Her father had disappeared. Everything else had to wait.

William blinked. “Was I?”

“You know you were.”

His brow furrowed. “I knew I was among the last to see him. I hadn't realized people believed I was the last.”

Rosalind searched his face. The surprise looked genuine. So did the confusion.

She wanted to believe him. Dear God, she wanted to.

His answer carried none of the careful polish she had expected. It sounded painfully sincere.

But if William truly knew nothing, then the hope she had carried with her there had been misplaced.

She had nowhere left to turn. He was the last thread she had left to pull.