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My Wicked Duke Next Door

Page 62

by Alianna Brookes

Rosamund patted the flat surface at the bottom of the packet. She found a short note, instead of a romantic declaration.

Ashbourne was meant to be Henry’s. Now that he is gone, neither of us can speak for him. You are the only person who should decide what becomes of it. You do not have to forgive me. The transfer will be executed regardless of whether or not you do so.

Rosamund cried. It was the first time in which Peregrine handed her something so important without providing her with instructions on what to do afterward. A part of her that constantly feared things wondered if it was genuine transformation on Peregrine’s part or merely another grand act.

Over the next few weeks, Rosamund watched Peregrine’s life from a distance, believing that he would never come back. He did not retreat into his old, rakish ways, nor did he make attempts to make her feel jealous. He did not send friends to plead his case. It almost felt like he was truly gone.

Peregrine followed Adrian’s advice and went looking inside himself, working on his weaknesses. While handling Westbourne, he ensured that not one person can make a decision without being questioned by everyone else. He consulted tenants over what they needed. He began to relinquish total control.

“Love has transformed the Duke of Westboure from a man who loves total control into a democratic committee,” observed Adrian with amusement.

“I preferred myself before,” Peregrine replied honesty.

“Nobody else did,” Adrian said.

But moving on did not mean completely forgetting Henry. Peregrine visited Henry’s grave on a Tuesday afternoon.

“I kept my promise badly, Henry,” Peregrine admitted to the grave. “Ashbourne survived, yes, but I hurt your sister while trying to protect your memory. I followed that promise all those years because I did not know what to do with the grief. But Rosamund was right. Ashbourne cannot belong to a promise forever.”

He left the grave without asking anything of Henry, symbolically releasing the burden he once carried.

A few days later, Thomas Wycliff visited Rosewood Cottage to sit with Rosamund. They had tea together, but that was not his sole purpose.

“I had some business at Ashbourne the other day,” Thomas said in a causal tone. “The Duke refused to sign any change to the estate. So, he would not approve or disapprove a timber sale.”

“Why?” Rosamund asked, frowning.

“Well, he made it clear that it was no longer his own to decide,” Thomas said.

Rosamund was quiet for a moment, mulling the information carefully.

“Whatever you decide,” Thomas continued, “base it on the man the Duke is now, not the man he was years ago.”

She blinked at the man who had become a trusted friend. “Thank you.”

As Thomas turned to go, Rosamund realized that it was so much easier to breathe now. So much easier when grief and anger were starting to fade.

Thirty-Two

“Do you think Mr. Honeycutt enjoys delivering large bundles of parchment?” Rosamund asked “This one could crush someone’s foot if I dropped it..”

Rosamund had just received what she believed to be the declaration of the legal transfer of Ashbourne Hall to her name.

“It is probably what expensive solicitors do,” Alice replied. “The more paper used, the higher the fee.”

They laughed.

Rosamund looked around her, still filled with disbelief that they were now at Ashbourne Hall, and that the place was hers. Sunlight filled the rooms as if rejoicing with her, and yet she still could not feel absolute joy. Something else was missing.

She had assumed that she had been summoned to receive the documents while Peregrine was alone and the halls empty. Yet, she heard the faint sounds of music and laughter, coming from the eastern lawn.

“What is taking place in the meadow?” she asked Hayes, the butler, frowning.

“It is the annual summer fete, my lady,” the old man replied with a warm smile. “The tenants celebrate annually just as they did in your late father’s time. From what I heard your brother enjoyed this fete thoroughly.”

“And the Duke?” Rosamund asked, her pulse betraying her in its acceleration.

“His Grace was celebraing with the tenants, but he intends to leave soon,” Hayes said. “He did not want to disturb you. He wished the day would belong to you and the people of Ashbourne.”