Chapter 15 #3
“I wasn't thinking clearly when I sent the note. I had just left the library, had not slept, and all I could think was that I needed to speak to someone.” He hesitated. “Apparently that someone was you.”
Something flickered across her face.
William continued before he could examine it too closely. “You have enough to contend with without carrying the troubles of my family as well. I regret burdening you with them.”
“You haven't burdened me.”
“Rosalind—”
“You have not.”
Her answer was so immediate that he fell silent.
She held his gaze. “I am glad you sent for me.”
Something warm tightened unexpectedly beneath his ribs.
William had spent the morning feeling unmoored from nearly everything familiar. His father was no longer entirely the man he remembered. His brother had carried a secret pain for most of his life. His mother had helped conceal it, and even Augusta had known truths William had somehow been spared.
Yet Rosalind stood before him holding both his hands as though there were nowhere else she particularly wished to be.
He realized, with uncomfortable clarity, how much he liked having her there.
The courtship might be false. The comfort was not.
William's gaze lingered upon her face before he remembered another reason he had wanted to see her.
“Last night,” he said. “You told me you thought you saw Algernon in the gardens.”
Rosalind's expression sharpened. “Yes.”
“I asked him about it.”
“And?”
“He denied being at the ball.”
Her brows drew together.
“He said you must have mistaken someone else for him.”
Rosalind looked away toward the passing carriages. “Perhaps I did.”
There was enough uncertainty in her voice to tell William she was not entirely convinced.
Neither, if he were truthful, was he.
Only yesterday he would have accepted Algernon's answer without another thought. This morning, after discovering how easily his brother had concealed the truth from him, certainty no longer came quite so readily.
Still, he had nothing to contradict him.
“He had no reason to lie about that,” William said, though he was no longer certain whether he meant to reassure Rosalind or himself.
She looked back at him. “Then I was mistaken.”
Her thumb moved absently across the back of his hand.
The tiny gesture distracted him far more effectively than it should have.
“Whatever happened last night,” she said gently, “you do not have to solve all of it this morning. Your brother's past, your father's mistakes, whatever your family chose to keep from you. None of it changes the memories you had before yesterday.”
William studied her.
“No,” he said eventually. “I suppose it doesn't.”
“And you needn't decide immediately how you feel about any of them.”
“I thought you preferred immediate answers.”
“Only when they concern missing fathers and suspicious auction clerks.”
A reluctant smile returned to his face.
At the mention of her father, however, something else settled inside him.
Resolve.
“If anything, what I learned last night has made me more determined to find Lord Eastmere.”
Rosalind's expression changed. “William—”
“I mean it. Your father helped my brother when he needed someone most. Apparently he helped my entire family, whether I knew it or not.” His hands turned within hers until he was the one holding on. “Whatever has happened to him, I want to find him more than ever.”
Her eyes glistened, but she smiled. “Thank you.”
He wanted to tell her she did not need to thank him.
Instead, he simply held her hands for another moment.
For an arrangement founded upon deception, remarkably little about his feelings toward Rosalind felt false anymore.
The realization should probably have concerned him. This morning, however, he could not bring himself to care.
Then another thought surfaced, so ordinary compared with everything else that William nearly laughed. “I almost forgot.”
Rosalind's brows lifted. “Forgot what?”
“My mother has invited you to tea this afternoon.”
Rosalind stared at him.
William finally smiled. “Apparently discovering one family secret before breakfast has done nothing whatsoever to diminish her enthusiasm for our courtship.”
A laugh escaped Rosalind. “Does she know it is pretend?”
“No.”
“Then I suppose I had better be convincing.”
William looked down at their still-joined hands. “I do not believe that will be a problem.”
Only after the words left him did he realize quite how sincerely he meant them.
Rosalind followed his gaze.
A delicate flush spread across her cheeks as though she, too, had only just realized that somewhere during their conversation, what had begun as comfort had become something neither of them seemed particularly eager to end.
Her fingers lingered around his for another heartbeat before she slowly withdrew them.
“Tea, then,” she said, smoothing one hand over her skirts with rather more attention than the task required.
William smiled. “Tea.”
She slipped her hand back through his arm, and together they resumed their walk.
It should have felt no different than before.
Somehow, it did.
And as William felt the warmth of her hand resting lightly against his sleeve, he found himself wishing she had not let go.