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Rosalind’s grip on the posy was threatening to break off the stems. If luck was with Mr. Sellers, it had most certainly abandoned her. Whatever would His Grace say if he arrived to find her entertaining another gentleman? Mr. Sellers must leave. Immediately.

“I fear you have caught me at an inconvenient time, sir.” That was a euphemistic way of putting it.

He frowned. “If you are set on a particular errand, I should be happy to drive you.”

“That is very kind of you but is unnecessary.”

“I am motivated by something far stronger than kindness, ma’am.”

Something in his voice had changed. Panic fluttered in Rosalind’s chest. She raised the posy. She had broken the heads off two violets already. “Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely. But I’m afraid I must decline your offer still.”

It was a valiant effort at bringing their conversation to a close, but she should have known that Mr. Sellers, who was far more used to turning the heads of young ladies than of being rebuffed by them, would be impervious to the dismissal.

He looked at the posy, his smile returning. “I thought of you the moment I saw the delicate purple blooms.” He moved closer, and Rosalind took a step back. Her heel hit the lower stair. She winced. On the other side of the hall, the longcase clock whirred, and a single note rang out, marking the one o’clock hour. The resonant sound had barely begun to fade when there was a loud rap at the door. Rosalind froze. Mr. Sellers raised a questioning eyebrow and turned to face the door. Rutherford was already there.

“Good day, Your Grace,” the butler said, bowing low and opening the door wide. “Please come in.”

The Duke of Kelbrook entered the hall. His gaze fell upon Rosalind and then moved to Mr. Sellers. His frown was so fleeting Rosalind wondered if she’d imagined it, but she caught his momentary hesitation before he continued across the hall toward them.

“Mr. Sellers,” he said, his polite mask in place. “I had not expected to see you again so soon.”

“Nor I you, Your Grace,” Mr. Sellers said, inclining his head slightly. “I am here to invite Miss Ainsworth for a ride in my new phaeton.”

“I noticed it outside. A fine-looking vehicle.” His Grace met the gentleman’s declaration without flinching. “It’s a shame that she is unable to accompany you, although I daresay you will have no difficulty in finding another companion.”

Indignation rippled off Mr. Sellers in waves. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but as I arrived at Langton House first, I think it only right that Miss Ainsworth be given the choice as to who she steps out with.”

The Duke of Kelbrook’s gaze was glacial, and three more violet heads landed on the floor at Rosalind’s feet. Given their difference in station, His Grace could justly accuse Mr. Sellers of being overly bold, but to the nobleman’s credit, he did not pull rank. Neither did he tout the invitation he had sent to Rosalind two days before. Instead, he extended his arm to her. “If you are ready, Miss Ainsworth, my barouche is outside.”

Rosalind’s throat went dry. As much as she hated being the prize in this duel of wills, she had no choice. She placed her hand on His Grace’s arm. His muscles were taut. “Although I appreciate your invitation, Mr. Sellers,” she said, “I have a previous engagement with the Duke of Kelbrook.”

Mr. Sellers’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” Resentment simmered beneath his succinct words. “Then I shall take my leave.” He inclined his head, first to Rosalind and then to His Grace, before marching across the tiled floor.

Rutherford already had the door open. Without giving the butler a passing glance, Mr. Sellers exited the house. Rutherford waited. Rosalind heard a whip crack, followed by the sound of hooves. Then Rutherford closed the door and stepped away. The hall was suddenly uncomfortably silent.

“Well, that was not exactly how I envisioned the beginning of our outing,” His Grace said.

Rosalind swallowed. It did little to help her dry throat. “I . . . I apologize, Your Grace. Mr. Sellers arrived unexpectedly.”

“So I suppose.” He glanced at the bedraggled posy in Rosalind’s hand. “But he came better prepared than I, it appears.”

She removed her hand from his arm. “Rutherford!”

“Yes, miss.” The butler had not gone far.

“Would you dispose of these for me?” She gave him the flowers.

“Shall I give them to Nora to put in your room?” Rutherford asked.

“No.” Rosalind was firm. “I do not wish to see them again.”

Rutherford nodded. “Very good, miss.” He started toward the servants’ entrance and what she hoped was the closest rubbish receptacle.

Straightening her shoulders, she turned back to the Duke of Kelbrook. “May we start again as though the unfortunate incident with Mr. Sellers never happened?”

Would he be willing to move past the awkwardness of the last few minutes? Their carriage ride would be torture if he were not.

His Grace lifted one eyebrow. “Do you consider a gentleman bringing you flowers and offering to take you on a drive to be an unfortunate incident? Or was my untimely arrival the unfortunate incident?”