Page 19

“Why are you torturing yourself by living nearby in a much smaller house when you can buy something much better? Why fight over a house full of ghosts of the past?”

Rosamund’s throat felt tight. Why was he asking me questions with answers that should have been obvious?

“Your Grace, there may be thousands of beautiful houses in England, but only one has Henry’s height marks carved into the nursery doorframe. Only one houses a tree that Father planted when I was born. It is also the only house among many where my brother learned to swim. The only library where my father taught me how to play chess.”

Rosamund expected Peregrine to counter each of her statements, but he was quiet. Oh, so quiet.

“Have you noticed those things, Your Grace? The little things that make a house matter?”

“I noticed all of them,” he replied, his voice uncharacteristically so low that she could barely hear him.

“Do -?”

But the music ended. He gave her a bow, and left the dance floor.

Seven

“The fellow practically acquired the place for free, in my opinion,” Lord Frederick declared, his nasal voice making Rosamund wince.

She had not meant to hear the viscount say his opinion over Ashbourne Hall. She had not been aware of how other people saw her family’s ruin. Her hand flew to her mouth, stopping the possibly scandalous shouts that would come out from it. It was a good thing that velvet draperies hid him from Lord Frederick and his companions or else she would not have a choice but to come and fight him.

“For free? I suppose it does feel like that way,” replied Sir George Grenville, chuckling as if Rosamund’s family’s tragedy was nothing but a joke. “It is a tragedy, but Westbourne certainly has a good eye for opportunity. Old Lord Ashbourne had lost his reputation completely and vultures would have descended upon that estate if not for Westbourne.”

“I must commend you on your clever purchase, Westbourne,” Lord Frederick praised, as if the first time he commented was not enough. He blew a thin cloud of cigar smoke, as he eyed the Duke. “It must feel like true victory to capitalize on another man’s disaster.”

Rosamund now knew what Lord Frederick was doing. He was waiting for Peregrine’s reaction. Yes, she also expected the Duke to laugh, puff his chest in arrogance. He did seem pleased with himself when he was flirting with the ladies earlier. It would suit the persona that he had somehow built through the years.

There was no such reaction. In fact, there was an uncomfortable silence. Lord Frederick adjusted his cravat as he watched the Duke of Westbourne clench his jaw and glare at him directly. Sir George Grenville’s eyes widened, on the alert.

“I would advise you, Eastman, to choose your words with care,” Peregrine warned, without raising his voice. His declaration was flat but lethal. Even where she was hiding, Rosamund felt the anger simmering from him. She had never felt that menace coming from him even she had pushed him.

“I - I meant no offense, Westbourne,” Lord Frederick stammered, as he backed away, making his chair scraped against the floor. “We - I merely thought it was a shrewd piece of transaction.”

“It was not a matter of shrewdness,” Peregrine countered, rising from his chair. Rosamund imagined he must have hoped for some peaceful conversation with his peers. “I do not want to ever hear you call the Harcourt family’s ruin as my good fortune. If I do, I will ensure you cannot join any of the best gentleman’s clubs.

“Westbourne, is that not but an exaggeration. We were merely trying to compliment your business acumen,” Mr. Grenville protested.

“The warning stands,” Peregrine declared.

Behind the drapes, Rosamund felt shaken. So far, everything that she thought of the Duke had been proven wrong by things people said and scenes like this particular one she had witnessed.

For years, the narrative had been simple. It had been one of hate and planned revenge. Now, Rosamund did not know what to think as her breath rasped in her throat and stuttered in her chest. It was much easier to see the Duke of Westbourne as an arrogant man who wanted Ashbourne for his own gain.

Now, she was confused.

Why?

The Duke of Westbourne did not talk the way she thought he would. He helped villagers with his bare hands and allowed her family’s former servants to keep their homes.

Rosamund wondered if she had misunderstood everything.

“You may visit Ashbourne whenever you wish, Lady Rosamund,” Westbourne said, as he adjusted his riding gloves as if to distract himself. “I will inform the housekeeper, Mrs. Johns beforehand so that you might not be mistaken for an intruder.”

Rosamund raised an eyebrow at that. The staff at Ashbourne knew her well.

“I know,” Peregrine murmured, his lips twitching. “You must still inform everyone so that you can get your lemon cakes and freely walk around.”

“It is still not the definition of freely, Your Grace,” Rosamund complained, although she was somehow pleased that she would be able to see Ashbourne Hall without having to pretend she was on her way elsewhere.