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Rosabel’s hand tightened on his arm. “I do believe that rebellion was settled some thirty years ago, was it not?”
James laughed a little, even while patting her hand. “It was, but not to the satisfaction of many in the House, you must remember.”
She looked away; her eyes trained on the younger girls who were getting ahead of them.
“Your sister is a delightful handful.”
James laughed again. “I so appreciate your family’s help keeping her entertained. I don’t know what I’m going to do when our mother deems it time for her Season. It could be as early as next year and very likely will be.”
“You shall be perfectly fine, Your Grace, I’m sure. And a year is a long time for a girl of that age. She could be nearly a different person by then.”
James remembered her telling him just how much she had changed, and his hand tightened over hers where it lay on his elbow. Her thoughts must have been leading in the same direction. Her direct, blue gaze met his briefly.
“Have you finalized your pursuit of Prescott?”
“My pursuit? I’m not pursuing the bounder. I’m trying to contain the damage his actions may cause.”
Her slight puff of laughter made James’ heart squeeze a little, but he concentrated on her words.
“My apologies if I used the incorrect verb, Your Grace,” she began, her tone dry. “But I meant to inquire how it goes, regardless of what you’d like to call it. I feel involved, as you know, and wondered how it was progressing.”
James once again patted her soft hand. It brought a strange, comforting pleasure to have her hand on his arm, but he did not allow it to distract him. “I understand your sense of involvement. It hasn’t concluded, unfortunately. I will tell you everything when it has.”
“Very well,” she acknowledged with a gracious bow of her head. “And from that, am I to infer that you do not expect me to have need of concern from him?”
James frowned over her words. “Have you been fearful all this time?” he asked, soft but fierce.
She shrugged slightly. “I’ve been in fear for three years, Your Grace. Your questions merely stirred it up a little but didn’t really change anything. Do not trouble yourself.”
∞∞∞
Rosabel’s throat felt tight. A part of her wanted to bask in the time spent with the duke. But the rest of her was trying to remain convinced that he was merely a friendly acquaintance.
Her stomach had plummeted when Wexford had asked her about the other man. She most certainly didn’t wish to discuss one with the other. But the duke’s questions had thrown into stark light her ambivalence about Mr. Northcott.
Rosabel couldn’t identify clearly what was wrong with her. She had wanted to find a gentleman to wed who was not a peer. Mr. Northcott should be perfect. Of course, she had also wanted to find a love match. But maybe that was only something that existed in fairy tales. That thought was why she was continuing to allow the man to court her. Bel had realized that in the past she had not allowed enough time to actually get to know a gentleman before she rejected the possibility of a match. Of course, she could excuse that with her determination to not wed a noble. Well, now she was presented with the mere mister she claimed to prefer, she had to allow time for deeper feelings to develop. But thus far, her heart appeared singularly unaffected in connection with Mr. Northcott. Unlike Wexford, she admitted to herself with a sinking sensation.
Her reactions to Wexford would lead her to think she was coming down with an illness. But oftentimes those very same feelings were pleasant, which lead her to believe that it was not a deadly disease. The fact, too, that it was seemingly selective also led her to think it was Wexford rather than her actual heart being ill.
But knowing that did not help her dilemma in the least. She did not wish to have atendrefor the duke. She had no aspirations toward being a duchess, even if it would give her a broader platform to relieve her newfound philanthropic impulses. Not that she actually considered that Wexford was considering her for the position, of course. In fact, she rather thought he was taking her suggestion and giving further thought to the suitability of Miss Perkins or Miss Bridgestone. And he had even led out Hilaria twice at the ball the night before.
No, Wexford was not courting her, Mr. Northcott was, and she needed to try to be excited about that, Bel reminded herself.
“It’s a lovely day,” she finally commented.
“Just because I don’t want to tell you about my investigation doesn’t mean we have to devolve to discussing the weather,” Wexford complained, inducing her to laughter.
“Well, Your Grace, you cannot have it both ways. We are either confidantes or we are acquaintances.”
“You drive a hard bargain, my dear girl.”
Bel’s stomach fluttered, but she quelled the sensation.
“We are doing you a great favour with Lady Katherine,” she reminded him, keeping her tone droll so he would know she was jesting.
“I cannot call it a great favour, my lady. I would never have taken her to a balloon ascension, nor Astley’s. How did you convince your mother? I thought she would be opposed to both of those excursions.”
“Isn’t it the strangest thing?” Rosabel countered. “It seems as though she has given up on all her scruples. Perhaps she is just feeling overrun with unwed females and is willing to try anything,” Rosabel mused with laughter in her voice. “We didn’t even have to beg. In fact, I would say, Astley’s might have even been her idea.”
