Her father took her arm and led her to a pair of large leather wingchairs arrayed before the fireplace. He handed Rosalie into one and sank into the other himself.
He leaned forward, hands folded in his lap, his expression earnest. “I only wanted to make sure he wasn’t some sort of fortune hunter. You have to admit, his reputation in those days was far from pristine.”
Rosalie opened her mouth to speak, but there was nothing she could say to refute that particular point.
Her father continued, “At the same time, I know a besotted man when I see one, and much to my surprise, he seemed to have a great deal of genuine affection. I wanted to give him a chance but protect your interests at the same time. So, I toldhim that I would not even consider a match with a man whose income was less than two thousand a year.”
Rosalie’s heart sank like a stone. Because, of course, Lucian had had no prospects of inheriting his grandfather’s title at the time. As far as she knew, he hadn’t had any income to speak of. “What did he say?” she asked, her voice full of dread.
“He promptly asked if eighteen hundred would do,” her father replied. “It turns out that his grandfather had specified that he was to receive a church living that was within his gift. Stratford-Upon-Avon, I believe it was.”
“Stratford-Upon-Avon,” Rosalie whispered. Lucian had asked her about Stratford-Upon-Avon, about whether living there would suit her.It all fit.
“I could see that he was in earnest,” the duke continued. “So, I told him that if this church living did indeed generate eighteen hundred a year, and you wanted the match, then I would give my blessing.” He rubbed the back of his head. “In retrospect, I may have belabored the point a bit too strongly—that I would not consider him unless he secured the living. He hadn’t signed anything yet, you see. It was all a conversation and a handshake. I made it clear that if he did not have the means to support my little girl, then he needn’t bother wasting my time.” His eyes were entreating. “As I said, I only wanted to make sure he wasn’t after you for your fortune, Rosie-Roo.”
Rosalie sighed. “What happened next, Papa?”
Her father’s cheeks turned ruddy. “Well, as I’m sure you recall, the Appropriation Act was coming up for a vote, and I was in the thick of things, trying to negotiate the terms. And while I was working on that, it turns out that your young man’s church living somehow fell through.”
Rosalie frowned. “Fell through? How did it fall through?”
He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know, precisely.”
Rosalie was aghast. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Tell me precisely what Lucian said!”
His eyes were entreating. “As I mentioned, I was spending every waking hour working on the Appropriation Act. I was informed that he attempted to call on me—several times, in fact. And he sent me a number of letters. But…” The duke trailed off. It was odd to see her robust, confident father with his shoulders hunched, looking as sheepish as a recalcitrant schoolboy.
“But?” Rosalie prompted.
The duke spoke in a rush. “I had a mountain of correspondence on my desk, and I did not manage to actually read his letters until he had, er…”
She crossed her arms. “Until he hadwhat?”
His eyes were fixed upon the Axminster carpet as he said, “Until he had left the country.”
Rosalie surged to her feet. “Papa! Do you mean to tell me that you ignored Lucian’s attempts to speak with you until he concluded that you were refusing to grant him an audience? Until he gave up andleft the country?”
The duke rose as well. He wrung his hands. “Not intentionally! I was very busy at the time, and… I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
Rosalie scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “What did he say in his letters?”
“Let’s see… that the living he had expected would be his had been given to someone else.” The duke scratched his jaw. “As best I recall, he asked if I could help him secure some sort of position. He said that he would be willing to do anything, anything at all.” He looked at Rosalie, his chin ducked. “I felt a bit guilty when I read that bit. I, of course, have a number of church livings in my gift. I could have set your young man up with one had I but realized.”
Rosalie glared at him, exasperated. “Did you write to him and tell him that?”
“No,” Papa admitted. He added hopefully, “I figured he was probably another one of those fortune hunters, and that if you really liked him all that well, you would have said something.”
That was when Rosalie did something she almost never did.
She started to cry.
She didn’t even realize she was doing it until one of her tears fell from her cheek, hitting the back of her hand.
“Rosie-Roo!” The duke surged forward, enveloping her in a bear hug.
“He never told me,” Rosalie sobbed, burying her face in her father’s cravat. “That the living had fallen through.” He had told her a few other things, a few otherlies. Why, she still wasn’t sure.
But Papa didn’t need to know about their conversation in the orangery.
