The Penitent Duke (The Untamed Nobles #1)

Chapter Ten

Rosalind lifted her chin, feeling herself tremble inwardly as the sharp looks of the ton surrounded her like a thousand glittering knives. In the last few days, news about her brother’s wrongdoing had marched its way through society but, unfortunately for them all, had now so many other things added to it, it made him sound as though he were nothing but a rogue rather than simply being a gentleman who had made one foolish mistake.

Rosalind did not know what to do other than to attempt to endure it – and that meant making her way through Lord Falconer’s townhouse and doing her best to smile and nod at anyone who deigned to look at her. It was meant to be a most enjoyable soiree and Rosalind had no doubt that many a gentleman and lady would find the evening quite wonderful whereas she would, alas, find it quite difficult indeed. What made it worse was that Lady Eleanor was not present this evening, having already accepted an invitation to another soiree so, much to Rosalind’s disappointment, she was quite alone. Her parents were present, but it would not do her much good if she stayed hanging onto her mother’s arm all evening! She had to show the ton that she was still worthy of respect and consideration, even if they did not believe her.

For all the good it will do me, Rosalind thought to herself, dropping her gaze to the floor for a moment or two. I do not know if there is anyone here this evening who will even speak with me!

“Lady Rosalind, is it not?”

Rosalind looked up quickly, her eyes fixing to the gentleman who had spoken to her, only for them to round as she took in not only the Duke of Strathmore seated at a card table but also Lord Westlake, the gentleman who had spoken to her. “Good evening, Lord Westlake,” she managed to say, surprise making her words a little halted. “I – I did not expect to see you here.”

“Are you not glad that I am here?” he asked, grinning at her and sounding a good deal more jovial than Rosalind had expected, given their last conversation. “Now, will you not join us for a game of cards, Lady Rosalind? As you can see, we have a seat here that is vacant.”

Rosalind opened her mouth to answer, only for a slight snort from another gentleman at the table to stop her. She looked at him directly, seeing him speaking out of the side of his mouth to the gentleman next to him, only for his eyes to then dart back towards her and for his words to stop suddenly. He flushed and then dropped his gaze, though a hint of a smile remained playing about on his lips.

Fire erupted in Rosalind’s face and she looked away. “I do not think I shall, but I thank you for the invitation.”

“And you, Lord Butterworth, will keep your mouth closed about Lady Rosalind, unless you wish for your behaviour to be called out here, in front of all the other guests.”

At this, Rosalind’s face burned all the hotter though, she recognized, there came an appreciation for what the Duke of Strathmore had said. She was not only a little surprised at his defense of her but also rather pleased and, truth be told, a little grateful. The Duke had not been required to say anything at this juncture but had chosen to defend her, had chosen to prevent the mocking that might soon follow and for that, Rosalind was grateful.

Lord Westlake looked at her curiously, then glanced to the Duke.

Rosalind saw the questions in his eyes but did not answer them, choosing instead to remain silent just as the Duke of Strathmore cleared his throat gruffly and then gestured to a chair.

“If you wish to join us, none of us have any objections.” He let his lips lift just a little perhaps at the astonishment that came into Rosalind’s expression. “You are welcome to play.”

“I am sure you shall do a good deal better than your brother,” Lord Butterworth muttered, looking somewhat irritated as the Duke shot him a dark look. “Ladies are most welcome to play, Lady Rosalind, if you wish to join us.”

Recognizing that to play would bring about yet more whispers from the ton – for they would say that she was just as prone to gambling as her brother, no doubt – Rosalind declined as graciously as she could. “I thank you but cards hold no interest for me.”

“Are you quite certain?” Lord Westlake asked, beaming at her as though simply by his welcoming smile, he might change her mind. “We would all be glad to have you join us.”

“Could you not sit with us all and merely observe the game?”

Rather surprised at the Duke’s encouragement – though she quickly recalled that they were meant to be spending a little more time with each other and knowing one another a little better – Rosalind chose to sit down in the seat in between the Duke and Lord Westlake, finding herself a little relieved that she had some company instead of none at all.

“I thank you.” The Duke offered her a look but not a smile. “You are without Lady Eleanor this evening, I see. ”

“Yes, you are.” Lord Westlake leaned a little closer to Rosalind, seemingly vying for her attention which, in turn, made Rosalind a little uncertain of him. “Though it is just as well that you have our fine company then, is it not?” He laughed at this and Rosalind smiled briefly, though she did not answer. Lord Westlake was, she considered, acting in a manner which she found a little strange. It was as though they had been acquainted for a long time and that they knew one another a good deal better than they truly did. The Duke of Strathmore, on the other hand, wore his usual disposition. His lips were pulled flat, his brows were furrowed and he was glancing at everyone with a shadow in his eyes, as though he did not want them to linger in his company.

And this, despite the fact that he had invited her to sit with them.

Mayhap he truly does wish to try and make things a little improved between us, Rosalind considered, silently as the game began. Even with his reputation, I can see that this is something to be considered. He has grasped what I have said to him and clearly is intent on pursuing this connection.

“You are already acquainted with Lord Westlake, then? And the Duke also, it seems?” Lord Butterworth asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked to Rosalind. “But neither gentleman has been in society at the same time as you, have they?”

Rosalind sharpened her gaze just a little, disliking Lord Butterworth’s interest and his suggestion hidden deep in the seemingly innocent question. With every intention of doing so, she was sure, Lord Butterworth was insinuating that a connection had been there beforehand, a somewhat spurious connection mayhap – and that only because of her brother. Evidently, even though he had been the one at fault, she was now seen in the same light, as someone who might have improper connections with gentlemen.

“I have only just recently become acquainted with Lord Westlake,” she said, as sweetly as she could though by the way that the Duke’s head twisted towards Lord Butterworth, Rosalind was quite sure that the gentleman was not pleased at the question Lord Butterworth had directed towards her. “And I was only introduced to the Duke this Season.”

“I see.” Lord Butterworth glanced at the Duke and then looked away, keeping his smile in place though his face was now quite red. “And you are both acquainted already, of course, given that Lady Pearl was your sister, Lord Westlake, and your betrothed, Your Grace.” In saying this, he looked to the Duke and to Lord Westlake only for his eyes to round at the furious glare which the Duke sent in his direction. “I – I… that is to say… oh, Lord Ulminster, is it not your turn to play? ”

Rosalind swallowed tightly, her whole-body trembling with the sudden awareness of a new and astonishing connection between the Duke of Strathmore and Lord Westlake. Lady Pearl, she knew, had been the Duke’s betrothed – though he had never spoken of the lady to Rosalind as yet – but she had never imagined that Lord Westlake would have a connection also! She dropped her gaze to her hands, trying her best to breathe calmly and to keep an outwardly peaceful demeanor while, inwardly, she was a sea of tumult.

“Thank you, Lord Butterworth, I think that is quite enough.” Lord Westlake was no longer smiling, no longer jovial. Instead, he seemed to have pulled into himself, his shoulders rounding, his jaw setting tight. “As I have just finished saying to the Duke himself, I have every intention of enjoying the Season this year. Given that it has been some years since my sister lost her life at the hands of wicked men, I should very much like now to set the past where it belongs and move ahead instead of lingering behind. Might you refrain from reminding me of such a painful thing? I would be very grateful to you for your silence.”

Lord Butterworth swallowed hard, now going paper white as he nodded. “But of course. Forgive me.”

“It is forgiven.” Lord Westlake glanced to the Duke. “From myself, at least.”

“I think,” the Duke began, just as Lord Westlake finished speaking, “that I shall take my leave of this game. Lady Rosalind, might you wish to take a short turn about the room?”

Rosalind had no desire to walk arm in arm with the Duke of Strathmore, had no interest in being at all close to him but given the situation, she felt as though she had no choice. She caught the astonished expression on Lord Westlake’s face, perhaps surprised that she was so willing to walk with the Duke of Strathmore, but Rosalind nodded and went with him, nonetheless, excusing herself as she did so.

The Duke did not offer her his arm. Instead, he made his way through the door of the card room and out into the hallway and Rosalind, though she was not afraid of being called improper given that there were so many guests around her, did worry that the Duke had quite forgotten her.

Eventually, he turned his head and, upon seeing her, came to a stop. Rosalind came to stand beside him, her heart pounding though not with exertion. What was he to say to her? It was clear to her that he was angry with what Lord Butterworth had said. Would that anger be pushed onto her ?

“Lady Rosalind,” the Duke began, his voice low and his eyebrows sitting heavily over his eyes. “It seems as though Lord Butterworth has spoken of a circumstance which, though I am unsure as to whether or not you have heard of it, I must now speak of myself.”

“I – I know a little.” Hearing her voice trembling, Rosalind took in a breath to steady herself, relieved that they had found a quiet place to speak – albeit in the middle of a long corridor. “Lady Eleanor shared with me the sad circumstances of Lady Pearl’s passing, though she did not say so in order to gossip. She knows that there may well be a connection between us and therefore, she wanted me to be aware of all that I might be stepping into.” Rosalind said obviously not being able to lie as she had mentioned to Eleanor she would.

The Duke scowled. “Stepping into?”

“The grief and the pain you still carry,” Rosalind said, bluntly. “It is obvious to me that you have kept yourself away from society because you have no desire for any sort of happiness or the like. Mayhap that is because of the grief you have for Lady Pearl?”

“It is not grief but guilt,” he grated, leaning a little closer to her as Rosalind caught her breath at his sudden nearness. “Grief was there, indeed, but the guilt I feel will linger with me every day of my life, I am sure of it. Do not misunderstand me, Lady Rosalind. I tell you this not because I want your understanding nor your compassion. I tell you because Lady Eleanor is right to say that you must understand what it is you are stepping into.”

Rosalind trembled, her heart filled with two warring desires. One was to turn on her heel and flee, to tell the Duke that she could not marry him and would take her chances on becoming a spinster. The other was to lean into him, to press one hand lightly against his cheek and to promise him that she would do whatever she could to bring a little light into his otherwise black world.

Something shifted in the Duke’s expression. His eyes, which had been fixed to hers, began to shift from one side of her face to the other, only for them to round just a little. He swallowed, ran one hand over his jaw and then shook his head, taking a small step back.

“What is it?” Rosalind could not help but ask him, wondering at the sudden altering of his expression. “Your Grace, I –”

“It is nothing.” He waved one hand at her, no longer looking at her. “Lady Rosalind, might I ask you if you have made your decision?”

Completely taken aback, Rosalind stared at him for a long moment, only to shake her head. “Your Grace, we spoke of a fortnight. It has only been two days since that discussion. Is there a reason that you expect me to be able to answer you so soon?”

The Duke opened his mouth again but then immediately closed it, snapping it shut as if he had clearly thought better of what he had been about to say.

“You are still contented to wait?”

“What if I am not?” the Duke demanded, his hand reaching out and catching hers, pulling her back towards him just a little – and suddenly, Rosalind felt herself very alone. A glance around her told her that she was standing with the Duke without anyone else in sight and, as his fingers held hers, Rosalind trembled inwardly. The Duke’s gaze was unrelenting, his eyes fixed to hers, the silence between them now demanding an answer – an answer she was struggling to give.

“Goodness, Your Grace! If you are not careful, you will cause Lady Rosalind a good deal of upset and I believe that she has endured enough of that already.”

Rosalind’s breath hitched as she turned her head to see Lord Westlake meandering towards them both, his head slightly tilted to one side as he observed them. “Lord Westlake,” she croaked, relieved when the Duke released her hand. “Forgive us, you find us in the midst of a deep discussion and –”

“Oh, it is not you that ought to be asking for forgiveness,” the gentleman interrupted, a slightly sharpened gaze now fastening to the Duke. “Your Grace, I am aware of your present reputation but surely you have more sense than this! You ought not to be speaking so intimately with Lady Rosalind when there are no other guests about!”

“I do not need your advice, Westlake.” The Duke’s voice was low, almost threatening as he narrowed his gaze at Lord Westlake. “What Lady Rosalind and I are discussing is of a private nature and –”

“A private nature, is it?” Lord Westlake drew closer and, much to Rosalind’s horror, she saw two ladies coming out of one of the other rooms and, their eyebrows lifting high, began to hurry after Lord Westlake, clearly aware that there was something occurring here, something that they might gossip about.

Rosalind’s heart turned over.

“Yes, a very private nature,” the Duke continued, his voice seeming to reverberate about the room, making Rosalind wince in shame, her eyes closing for just a moment as she heard one of the two ladies gasp. Did not the Duke realize what he was saying? What he was doing by speaking in such a way? Or was it that he simply did not care ?

Or, she considered, her heart now beginning to pound with fright, could it be that he is doing this so that I have no other choice but to accept him because he no longer wants to wait? Is he taking this choice away from me before I have even had a chance to truly consider?

“This is not your business, Westlake,” the Duke continued, coming to stand a little in front of Rosalind as though he was protecting her, shielding her in some way which, to Rosalind’s mind, made the situation appear all the more dreadful. “Be gone and permit me to finish speaking alone with Lady Rosalind.”

“Your Grace!” one of the ladies gasped, putting her hand to her heart, eyelashes fluttering. “You surely cannot think to have a private conversation with the lady here in public? That is quite improper!”

“Though he is known for such things,” the other lady answered, speaking quite boldly and without even flinching when the Duke shot a look to her. “All the same, Lady Rosalind, I would have thought that you would have refused to linger in such an improper situation but it seems you have not!”

The first lady sighed and put one hand to her waist, tipping her head just a little. “What a great pity, though mayhap since her brother has been more than a little improper, it ought to be expected.”

Rosalind’s face flamed, her heart quailing as she realized how little choice she had. The Duke had, whether purposefully or not, made certain that she could no longer take her time and consider, could not think about what was best to do. If she did not accept him, did not tell these two ladies and Lord Westlake that she was now betrothed to the Duke, then rumors would soon abound about her given these present circumstances – and then what would she do? She would have no other choice but to accept him regardless, for her chances of a match with a different gentleman were now entirely gone. Surely, she could refuse the Duke outright, could let the rumors begin and whisper about her and accept that she was now nothing but a spinster… but what then of Emilia?

Her gut twisted sharply and she blinked back a rush of hot tears, seeing now the path that laid itself before her feet. A path she had no choice but to walk.

“You must forgive this impropriety, Lord Westlake,” she began, her voice wobbling as she looked to the gentleman rather than to the other two ladies, both of whom were now whispering behind their hands. “The Duke of Strathmore has just asked me to marry him.”

The gasps from all three – the two ladies and Lord Westlake – made Rosalind close her eyes, feeling herself trembling as she let out a long breath, curling her hands into tight fists as she forced the next words out. “And I have accepted him.”