Page 41 of The Duke’s Masked Wallflower

“Where were we?” Lady Winthrop asked when she returned, handing Rosalie a thin China plate with two sandwiches and some pickle. “The dashing duke.”

Rosalie grimaced. “Do you usually call him that?”

“Only when you are not around,” her mother joked, sipping from her teacup. “But when I paint you and him together, in the future, that’s what I plan to title my piece: The dashing duke and his darling duchess.”

“Please don’t.” Rosalie fought a rising smile and lost. She stared at the sandwiches but could not stir her appetite. “Do you really think a courtship like ours could be successful?”

Her mother looked horrified. “Why not?”

Because it’s fake, and I’m surprised you can’t tell, since you can tell when I’m upset about something, was what Rosalie wanted to say. Instead, she said, “I don’t think the Duke of Hartmere very much likes me.”

The room went silent. Rosalie could feel her father go still in his armchair for a beat, before he turned the page of his newspaper and continued reading. Her mother held her teacup in midair. The steam rose into Lady Winthrop’s face, and eventually she wiped her upper lip before setting the drink down.

“If that were true, he would end your acquaintance,” she suggested.

“Perhaps he does not want to hurt my feelings.”

“Feelings...?” Rosalie heard Lady Winthrop swallow. “See? You hardly know what you’re saying. How could he not want to hurt your feelings in one breath and not like you very much in another?”

“I don’t know,” Rosalie said honestly, rubbing her temples. “This is all so confusing...”

“Sometimes men can be very difficult to read, Rosie. Especially when they are young and handsome like the Duke of Hartmere... I cannot imagine how difficult it is to navigate the world, always being wanted for something, the apple of everyone’s eye. It sounds like a happy fate for a man, or a woman, but it’s not. To never be left in peace. To never pursue what one wants. It is such a tragedy. He is tragic.”

Rosalie was stunned. “You seem to have thought about this a great deal.”

“Oh, I have.”

“Most people would likely say the Duke of Hartmere is one of the most privileged men in all of England, not tragic.”

“And he is privileged. Just like we are. I said nothing to the contrary. Don’t think I’ve changed my politics. But that doesn’t mean his life is always easy, or he knows how to treat other people. The more people receive in life that is free... Well, I think it makes it doubly harder for them to appreciate what they have. Too much of a good thing, and all the rest. Isn’t that sad?”

“I suppose it is,” Rosalie admitted, only half convinced.

“And he hasn’t had an easy life besides.” Lady Winthrop picked her tea up again. “You’re right that he has many privileges, but there are many things which he does not have. His parents, his poor brother⁠—”

“His brother?” Rosalie’s stomach tightened. She balanced her plate on the cushion beside her. “He has no brother.”

“Precisely. His brother is dead. He must have died...” Lady Winthrop drew in a breath and cast her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, almost twenty years ago. It was all very sudden. No one said anything to you?”

Rosalie searched her mind for a memory of the news. In all the time that Gabriel had courted her, he had never mentioned a brother to her, and neither had Lady Chipping while they were abroad. She shook her head.

“He must not like to talk about it,” Lady Winthrop continued. “His name... I think it was Marcus Ashcroft. He was His Grace’s elder brother by quite a few years, first in line to become the Duke of Hartmere, to that end. Some sudden illness took him after he visited the continent with his aunt. He had not even reached his adulthood. And it was not long after that, the late Duke of Hartmere himself passed. And then he lost his mother, Her Grace. She was very lovely.”

“I do not...” Rosalie’s throat went dry. “I wish he would have told me.”

“Because you do not wish to be left in the dark? Because you care more about him than you are willing to admit to me?” Her mother gave a sad but challenging smile. “This should not change how you think about him.”

“It won’t.”

“Because if he is treating you cruelly⁠—”

“He is not.”

Lady Winthrop looked unimpressed by the interruption and stared at Rosalie seriously. “If you do not want your courtship with him to continue, dear, for whatever reason, you may end it whenever you please. There are others still vying for your prolonged company.”

But that was the problem, Rosalie thought. Despite everything, the more she learned about him, the more she realized she knew nothing about him. The more they argued... the more desperately she wanted the courtship to continue.

Almack’s was always too loud and bright for Rosalie’s tastes, with too many candles and too many people vying for the attention of others. Rosalie had been standing near the refreshment table for the better part of ten minutes, watching the doors, before Emily finally arrived.