Page 98 of Courting the Wrong Duke

William searched his brother's face, willing him to laugh, to explain, to tell him there had been some absurd misunderstanding that would make them all feel foolish by morning.

Instead, Algernon simply closed his eyes.

The gesture frightened William more than any words could have. “You owe us the truth,” he said quietly. “All of it.”

For several long moments, no one spoke.

The only sound in the library was the quiet crackle of the fire and the soft ticking of the clock upon the mantel.

Algernon stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed upon the polished surface of the desk. When at last he lifted his head, his eyes moved first to Augusta, then to the dowager, before finally settling upon William.

Weariness settled across his features in a way William had never witnessed before. It was the look of a man who had carried something far too heavy for far too long.

He closed his eyes briefly, as though surrendering to a decision he had spent years trying not to make.

When he spoke, his voice was scarcely above a whisper. “Very well.” His eyes met William's once more. “I will tell you.”

***

Three hours later, the first pale light of dawn filtered through the tall library windows, turning the lingering candle smoke silver in the quiet room.

William stepped into the entrance hall like a man who had aged years in a single night.

His face had lost every trace of color, his cravat hung loose where he had tugged impatiently at it hours before, and his eyes burned with the dull ache that came not merely from lost sleep, but from discovering that the world was no longer quite what he had believed it to be.

Nothing would ever look the same again.

The first footman beginning his morning duties stopped immediately. “My lord?”

William crossed to the writing table without answering. His hand hesitated only briefly before he drew a sheet of paper toward him.

He wrote only a single sentence.

Lady Rosalind,

Meet me in the main square as soon as you wake. There is something we must discuss.

William Sinclair

He sanded the ink, folded the note, and pressed his seal into the warm wax. “See that Lady Rosalind receives this the moment she is awake.”

“At once, my lord.”

William watched the servant disappear through the front door before slowly lowering himself into the nearest chair.

He had entered the library believing he knew exactly who his brother was. He left it wondering how much of Algernon's life had unfolded beside his own without him ever truly seeing it.

That realization hurt far more than he thought it should.

Chapter 14

The river was impossibly cold.

It wrapped itself around Rosalind's ankles before climbing slowly higher, soaking the hem of her gown until the heavy fabric drifted around her like pale weeds beneath the dark water.

Mist hung low over the surface, blurring everything beyond a few uncertain yards, while voices rose all around her, carried upon the current like leaves.

They spoke over one another.