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My Wicked Duke Next Door

Page 42

by Alianna Brookes

The truth was now unavoidable, and it might be consistent with what the tenants were saying about him. The Duke of Westbourne did not purchase Ashbourne to ruin her family. Instead, he did so to ensure that it would still be possible to return it to them. If someone else had bought the estate, it would certainly be gone forever.

Yes, she did not believe the tenants and villagers. She thought that the Duke was merely trying to make it seem like he was a benevolent owner but had other plans. But this letter? This one was written in Henry’s undeniable handwriting. She also remembered how Ashbourne had never been changed in any way, not after Henry died.

Rosamund had completely ignored every evidence that showed the Duke of Westbourne was not the enemy. He thought of himself as merely a temporary caretaker to Ashbourne. He had saved it, and kept it.

A sob escaped Rosamund’s throat. She hugged her knees while her body shook. She realized just how wrong he was all along. She had been unjust to Henry’s friend. She had constantly accused him of being a usurper and a thief, someone who had preyed on a family that fell apart.

But why had he never told her?

The despair was replaced by anger. Now, she felt angry that the Duke had chosen to just simply tell her about everything. Why did he allow her to work herself to the bone to get Ashbourne back. She remembered all the nights she cried over her family and Ashboure. He could have made her feel better. Less alone. But he chose to be quiet.

Without a word, Rosamund rose and strode to grab her cloak from the door.

“Rosamund! Wait!” Alice cried, but Rosamund was already outside in the brisk afternoon air.

Half-crying and panting, Rosamund marched to Ashbourne Hall under gray skies. She did not pause at any post, nor did she wait to be announced. She stormed the halls.

“Lady Rosamund -” Mrs. Johns began, but the young woman was already past the foyer, her feet taking her instinctively to the study.

The Duke was behind his desk, as expected. For such a flirt of a man, he seemed so serious during the day, in front of open ledgers and with a quill in his ink-stained hand.

“Lady Rosamund -,” he started.

Rosamund walked directly to his desk without speaking. She reached into her cloak for Henry’s folded letter, and placed it right in front of him, on top of his open ledger.

The Duke’s gaze quickly fell to the paper. His body stiffened and there was a slight widening of his eyes. He looked to be almost in pain.

“Is it true?” Rosamund asked hoarsely.

“Yes,” he said softly, not avoiding her probing gaze.

“You bought Ashbourne so that you could keep it for Henry?” she prodded.

“I did.”

“Then, you were planning to return it to him when he came of age?” Her voice cracked now.

“Yes, that was precisely the agreement I made with him,” the Duke confirmed, with a flat tone.

“Then why did you never tell me?” she asked, slamming her palm onto the desk. She startled herself at the act. She had never done anything like that before. “You watched me hate you for years. I have sold my mother’s jewelry, begged relatives for money, and treated you like a monster. Somehow, all I did came to for nothing!”

“Because,” the Duke said with a sigh, “Lady Rosamund, I would have to explain why the estate needed protecting in the first place. I would have been required to tell you what your father had done to Henry’s trust.”

Rosamund scoffed at that, shaking her head in disbelief. “I already knew of the accusation! Everyone knew! He was supposedly taking Henry’s money, and was drowning in debt!”

“Knowing an accusation and being provided the proof are two different things,” he said, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Rosamund hesitated. She told herself to think about things before drawing conclusions this time around.

“You are still withholding something,” she whispered. “I want the full truth, Your Grace.”

Peregrine looked just as frozen. Rosamund could see the battle waging behind his eyes. Finally, there was a shift in his shoulders that showed he was going to yield. He breathed out wearily.

“Very, well,” he said. “You have earned the full truth.”

He opened a locked drawer, reached inside, and pulled out what could be the original account record. It bore her father’s crest in gold leaf. Rosamund trembled at the sight. Now, she wondered if she should even look at it. Was the Duke right to keep it from her?

“Read it,” he said gently.