Page 84 of Courting the Wrong Duke

William blinked. “You are accompanying him?”

“A few days in the country sounded preferable to another week in London,” she answered pleasantly.

It was not the explanation William had expected, though he could hardly object.

“How long will you be gone?” he asked, turning back to his brother.

The duke reached for his gloves. “I'm not entirely certain.”

William frowned. “I was hoping we'd have an opportunity to compare notes about the investigation before you left.”

“So was I.” His brother adjusted one cuff before looking toward the open front door, where the coachman was already waiting. “We will speak when I return.”

“Algernon—”

But the duke had already stepped outside.

The duchess offered William an apologetic smile before following her husband into the carriage.

Moments later, the horses pulled away from the curb, leaving William alone in the suddenly quiet entrance hall.

He watched the carriage disappear down the street, a faint crease settling between his brows.

His brother had answered every question.

And yet, William felt no better informed than before.

***

The carriage rolled to a stop before the brightly lit townhouse, where a line of elegant equipages already stretched halfway around the square. Footmen hurried between polished carriages, announcing guests as ladies in shimmering silk ascended the broad stone steps, their laughter drifting into the warm summer evening.

As William stepped onto the pavement, his thoughts lingered stubbornly upon his brother's abrupt departure.

It was unlike Algernon to alter his plans without explanation. More unlike him still to evade perfectly reasonable questions.

William had the distinct impression his brother had wished to leave before any further conversation could take place. He only hoped the estate business truly proved as ordinary as Algernon claimed.

Pushing the thought aside, William surrendered his invitation to the butler and entered the house.

Music greeted him almost immediately.

The ballroom glowed beneath dozens of crystal chandeliers, their candlelight dancing across polished marble floors and gilded walls. Ladies in every imaginable shade of silk drifted through the room like brightly colored blossoms while gentlemen clustered in small groups, their conversations rising and falling beneath the steady rhythm of the orchestra.

William found himself searching the crowd before he had consciously decided to do so.

He frowned.

Rosalind had accepted his invitation readily enough, but securing an appropriate chaperone at such short notice had been another matter entirely.

Suppose she had been unable to come. The thought disappointed him more than it ought.

His gaze swept slowly across the ballroom once more.

Then he saw her.

She stood beside Lady Eastmere near one of the tall windows, the rich purple of her gown setting her apart from every lady surrounding her. Fresh flowers had been woven delicately through the loose curls that fell over her shoulders, and for one thoroughly unreasonable moment William simply forgot to breathe.

She was beautiful. The realization struck with such unexpected force that it took him a moment to notice she was not alone.