Page 71 of Courting the Wrong Duke

William Sinclair

She caught herself smiling.

It was a perfectly ordinary note.

Nothing romantic or improper. Merely an invitation from the gentleman who was pretending to court her.

“How inconvenient,” she murmured.

Nelly looked up from arranging the breakfast tray. “My lady?”

“I was hoping to spend the afternoon behaving sensibly.”

Nelly's lips twitched. “I fear Lord William has spoiled those plans.”

Rosalind laughed softly before folding the letter. “Please send word that I shall be delighted to accept.”

“Very good, my lady.”

Only after Nelly disappeared did Rosalind become aware of the dull ache lingering behind her eyes.

It was hardly surprising.

Between the ball, the conversation with William, and lying awake afterward replaying every word of their decidedly unconventional agreement, she was still exhausted after hours in bed.

Still, the headache seemed a remarkably small price to pay.

An hour later, Rosalind stood before her dressing table while Nelly fastened the final buttons of her pale blue walking dress.

The maid stepped back to examine her handiwork. “I think the blue suits you particularly well.”

Rosalind regarded her own reflection. “I suppose it must.”

“It certainly does.”

Nelly reached for a small porcelain pot. “Perhaps just a touch of rouge?”

Rosalind hesitated. “A little.”

Nelly smiled knowingly. “A very little?”

“A respectable little.”

The maid laughed softly as she brushed the faintest hint of color across Rosalind's cheeks.

Rosalind studied the result critically. “Do you think it is too much?”

“No.”

“Too little?”

“I don't believe Lord William is likely to bring a measuring stick.”

Rosalind couldn't help laughing. “I must appear at least somewhat interested in him.”

Nelly's hands paused. “My lady?”

“For the ruse,” Rosalind clarified quickly. “If society is to believe he is courting me, they must also believe I encourage it.”