Page 66 of Courting the Wrong Duke

He turned.

Algernon stood a few steps above him, one hand resting lightly upon the banister. “I intend to call upon Lady Eastmere and Lady Rosalind.”

William blinked. “You do?”

His brother descended the remaining steps with his customary composure. “News of your courtship will spread quickly enough.” He adjusted one cuff. “It seems only proper that I should call to offer my congratulations.”

Beneath one arm he carried a flat parcel, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

William glanced toward it. “What's that?”

“A watercolor.”

“For Lady Rosalind?”

Algernon inclined his head. “A small gift.”

William looked at him in surprise. “I confess... I had not expected that.”

“No?”

“No.”

Algernon's expression remained perfectly composed. “Then perhaps you have mistaken me.”

A faint smile tugged at William's mouth. “I think it's an excellent idea.”

“So do I.”

The conversation might easily have ended there.

Instead, William found himself watching his brother walk down the hall, the carefully wrapped painting tucked beneath his arm.

The gesture surprised him.

More than that, it gave him hope.

Rosalind still believed either he or Algernon might somehow be responsible for Lord Eastmere's disappearance. Perhaps a visit like this would begin to change that.

The sooner Rosalind no longer felt compelled to suspect either of them, the sooner they might finally begin searching in the same direction instead of standing on opposite sides of the question.

That, William assured himself, was all he wanted.

He ignored the small voice that wondered why it mattered so much that Rosalind and his brother should come to understand one another.

***

William arrived at Angelo's Academy to find the familiar practice hall already echoing with the sharp ring of steel. Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows, glinting off polished foils as gentlemen practiced their lunges under the watchful eyes of the instructors. The air smelled faintly of waxed floorboards, leather gloves, and honest exertion.

Gabriel stood near the center of the salle, idly swinging a fencing foil through the air while waiting for him.

“You're late,” he observed.

“By three minutes.”

“I had already begun mourning the friendship.”

William accepted a foil from the instructor, testing its balance before allowing himself a faint smile. “How touching.”