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“Your brother loved you enormously, Lady Rosamund,” the Duke said, murmuring soothingly into her hair, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love him enough to make his memory into my sole duty,” she sobbed while she still clung to him.

In turn, the Duke held her closer. His fingers rubbed her temple. “Grief often disguises itself as responsibility. I know that well."

By evening, Rosamund was still in Ashbourne. Alice was somewhere in the house with Mrs. Johns, so strict propriety was still preserved. However, Rosamund and the Duke still found themselves alone in the library for a short while. The doors remained open, of course. Henry’s letter had left them both unguarded, and drawn to each other.

Fire crackled from the hearth, but Rosamund shivered and hugged herself. She watched the embers burn as she held a glass of sherry supposedly to calm her emotions.

“I no longer know whether I want Ashbourne because I truly desire to live here, or because I am terrified that letting go of this house means losing Henry again,” she admitted, breaking the silence in the library.

“I have asked myself the same thing,” the Duke said. “Perhaps neither of us has been preserving the estate for Henry, anymore. Perhaps we have been using him as an excuse not to move forward.”

“That is an unbearably sensible observation, Your Grace,” Rosamund said, nodding.

“My sincere apologies. I should try to be less profound and sentimental, my lady.”

She chuckled, before murmuring, “I prefer you when you are merely being charming, and most times…infuriating.”

When he stepped closer to her, she could see the rakish gleam in his eyes. “Do you prefer me charming now, Lady Rosamund?”

‘I have not decided yet,” she breathed, her pulse racing.

The Duke then closed the gap between them. She could smell him. He smelled of the orchards, and of cedarwood and traces of brandy.

“Should I attempt to persuade you?” he asked, his voice becoming seductively lower. Her knees buckled a little, but she held on to her balance like she had stubbornly held on for most things in her life.

“You may attempt anything,” Rosamund replied, as her heart raced faster within her, “...within reason, Your Grace.”

“My reputation suggests that reason has never been a strong suit,” he replied, as a wicked smile broke on her face.

Genuine laughter broke from within Rosamund’s chest, but it was quickly gone. The Duke reached for her hand and she did not fight it. She did not fight him. His eyes were still on her face as he slowly raised her knuckles to his lips. The gesture itself was proper, but the way he looked at her was not.

“You have become the most inconvenient woman I have ever known,” he whispered against her skin.

“You deserved a great deal of inconvenience years ago, Your Grace,” she retorted.

“I probably did,” he agreed softly, even as he further advanced that she could feel the heat of his body on hers.

Rosamund did not step back. Instead, she looked up at him, her breath catching as she watched his eyes smolder and linger on her lips. This was what he wanted. This was what she wanted, too.

When his mouth finally descended on hers, the world became nothing more than that connection. All that she could feel was the kiss in its tender, hesitant reverence. She grabbed the lapels of his coat as he deepened the kiss. Her eyes had squeezed close, and for a moment, the kiss was all she knew. There was no more grief. No more ghosts of the past. What was left were two people who were trying to hold on to something that could take them out of the darkness.

Twenty-Nine

“When was the last time you walked into this room without looking as though you were preparing for a battle?” Alice asked, linking arms with Rosamund, as they entered Ashbourne’s ballroom.

Rosamund took a deep breath, letting the candlelight and the music envelop her. She could not believe that she would be here again…with a smile.

“I cannot remember,” she admitted. The grand hall no longer felt like a melancholy ghost story. It was just a room with music. Of course, it did not mean that Henry was no longer there with her, because he would always be. “It feels strange to simply be here.”

“It shows in the way that you glow,” Alice remarked, her voice warm with affection. She gently nudged her friend as they got closer to the midst of the ballroom. “If I am not mistaken, someone else agrees with me.”

Rosamund followed her friend’s gaze, her heart fluttering with anticipation. The Duke was stepping away from a cluster of gentlemen that included his friend, Lord Vale. As usual, he was well-dressed. This time, though, she noticed how well his shirt fit his broad chest. More importantly, he watched her unabashedly. There was no more hiding now. He also no longer had time to look left and right, and flirt with the many eligible young ladies or the widows of the ton that he had some history with.

No.

His eyes were on her.