Page 47

Rosamund could tell that he was retreating, hiding behind his jests. She refused to let him do that.

“Are you jealous?” she asked boldly.

“Very much so,” he admitted. This time, there was no hint of humor in his voice.

It was Rosamund’s turn to be speechless. She did not expect him to say so directly. He had shed all aristocratic pride to tell her that. But could he be telling the truth?

“You do not need to answer that, Rosamund,” he said softly, stepping back to give her back the space she came to find there in the first place. “I do not want to turn my feelings into another burden or demand upon you.”

The Duke gave her a respectful bow, low and without flourish. Then, he walked through the French doors and back to the warmth of the drawing room. She was left there to ponder what she had just heard.

Peregrine Blackwood was stripping away his armor and tearing down his boundaries, and becoming the man she needed him to be. But was it too late? Had she armored her heart past reaching?

Twenty-Four

“If we take the turn there near Cuckfield, we will be adding more hours to the journey, and I have no desire to spend more time seeing you choose routes you have never even driven,” Rosamund declared, as she folded her arms across her chest.

“My personal driving is not the issue, Lady Rosamund,” the Duke argued. “It is all about geography. Choosing the southern turn at least avoids the steep incline near the chalk pits.”

“Your Grace, it is also not about trying to be the correct one,” she said. “I want to reach before nightfall, which has its own dangers.”

“The Duke’s route seemed sound, Rosamund,” Alice said. “My uncle’s coachman has the same predisposition to take the southern route to avoid steep inclines.”

Rosamund’s eyes bulged at her friend. She could not believe what she was hearing. “Alice, should we tell everyone that your uncle chooses that route because of Seaford Inn’s brandy?”

“That man may have good sense in terms of the brandy. I have been to Seaford before,” Adrian interjected. Rosamund wondered, in horror, if he would side with the other two. “However, I side with Lady Rosamund on this matter. A more direct path, even if it passes over a steep incline, is preferable to long detours preferred by men who enjoy maps.”

“You do not even know which county we are currently in, Adrian,” Peregrine grumbled.

“Details, Westbourne. Minor details,” Adrian murmured. “Lady Rosamund leans toward efficiency while you like to find all the places this carriage could go except direct paths.”

“You see?” Rosamund challenged, utterly delighted. “Even your own friend knows who is right.”

“Adrian does not recognize the truth. He only cares for the state of his cravat,” the Duke mumbled. “Miss Bellamy, please do enlighten me. Is your friend only eager to be stubborn in my presence, or is she always like this?”

“Your Grace, she is stubborn,” Alice replied, tapping her chin as if deliberately deeply. “However, she is even more so in your presence.”

“Traitor,” Rosamund muttered.

“I merely know you well, my friend,” Alice replied, batting her eyelashes at Rosamund. She exchanged a quick, amused glance with Adrian.

Shortly after, Rosamund and Peregrine realized that their friends were being deliberately mischievous. The conversation turned to lighter things as they finally chose the leisurely route, with assurance from the Duke that it would not take as long as everyone else feared.

Brighton received them with the English Channel’s salty tang. There was also quite a lot of noise compared to the villages near Ashbourne and Westbourne. For Rosamund, their arrival also came with an unwelcome revelation, that the Duke’s past was everywhere.

As they entered the hotel’s foyer, an elegant woman in her early thirties approached them. She was wearing half-mourning clothes, but as soon as she saw the

“Your Grace?” the widow purred, walking toward him, and stopping right in front of him. “Have you come to grace our humble coast once more?”

The Duke stopped, and gave her a polished bow. “Lady Forsworth. You look radiant as ever.”

“Flatterer,” she said with a laugh, placing a gloved hand lightly on his forearm. It was a gesture that was far too familiar, making it clear that the woman was not a casual acquaintance. “We missed you at the Assembly rooms. Lord Harrington can still recall some of the we have played. I believe he wants revenge for the time you walked away with his silver snuffbox.”

“It is his dignity he wants back,” the Duke replied smoothly. This time, his smile had become rakish, quite different from the ones Rosamund was familiar with when he was back at Ashbourne.

“We miss your special type of mischief, Your Grace,” Lady Fornsworth said, her eyes lingering far too long on his face. Then, it briefly flickered, somewhat critically, to Rosamund and Alice. “Will you grace the promenade this evening?”

“Regrettably,” I have some business to attend to this time,” he murmured, letting her hand fall from his arm.