Page 65 of Courting the Wrong Duke

“I know.”

She studied him for another moment before her expression softened. “I suppose, if nothing else, it will place you in a better position to help Lady Rosalind search for her father.”

William inclined his head. “That is certainly one advantage.”

His mother looked across the table toward her eldest son. “Algernon, perhaps you ought to lend your brother whatever assistance you can. The poor girl should not have to bear such a burden alone.”

Algernon folded his newspaper with deliberate care before setting it aside. “I already told William I would assist in discovering what became of Lord Eastmere.”

His mother looked pleasantly surprised. “You did?”

“Yes.”

He reached for his coffee. “Though I may have to leave for Aldermere within the next few days for some estate business.”

William looked up. “Will you be gone long?”

Algernon shrugged lightly. “As long as necessary.”

William hesitated. “Perhaps I could accompany you.”

Algernon's eyes met his only briefly. “I think your attention would be better directed elsewhere.” A faint pause followed. “You have, after all, a promising courtship to begin.”

The words were courteous enough.

Yet they closed the conversation as effectively as a locked door.

William recognized the dismissal for what it was.

He had hoped, however briefly, that breakfast might become something more than another conversation conducted across an invisible distance.

Instead, the distance remained exactly where it had always been.

Only now, William found himself wondering whether it had existed far longer than he had ever realized.

Breakfast concluded not long afterward.

His mother, having recovered remarkably from her supposed headache, immediately retired to the morning room with Augusta to discuss callers, while Algernon disappeared toward the library with a sheaf of estate papers tucked beneath one arm.

William lingered only long enough to write a brief note.

Lady Rosalind,

If it would suit you, I should be delighted to meet you for tea and cake at Gunter’s this afternoon.

Yours,

William Sinclair

He sanded the letter, folded it neatly, and entrusted it to a footman with instructions that it be delivered to Carlisle house immediately.

Only then did he collect his gloves.

Gabriel was expecting him at Angelo's Academy within the hour, and experience had taught William that arriving late merely ensured his friend found even more opportunities to boast about his victories.

He had just reached the foot of the staircase when a voice stopped him.

“William.”