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“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins. Yes, I have missed the place that now I plan to visit more often,” Rosamund said, as she stepped into the house. The room was warm and smelled pleasantly of lavender soap and various herbs. She could not help but inhale. Mrs. Higgins might not be wealthy, but she certainly knew how to manage her home. Rosamund did come with a basket of plums for the older woman. She did not want to come with nothing. “Is your knee holding out during cold mornings such as what we have today?”

“I am glad that you want to visit more, my lady,” Mrs. Higgins said. “We have missed you, too. And yes, my knees are holding up.”

The older lady took some mismatched cups and poured tea into both of them. She handed Rosamund one of them. Rosamund had already taken a seat. The chair was rough and worn, but she did not mind it.

As both settled into their seats, sipping their tea, Rosamund proceeded to ask, “Do you remember when things began to change at Ashbourne? Have you ever observed his behavior or the Duke of Westbourne’s behavior when they were together?”

“Mm. When I was still a maid at Ashbourne Hall, I noticed that your father looked like he was under a dark, heavy cloud even before the creditors began to pressure him,” Mrs. Higgins replied.

Then, as if she realized she was saying something she should not have been, her hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh, do go on, Mrs. Higgins. My father is dead. I am his daughter. I simply want to understand what it was like for him in the end,” Rosamund reassured the former maid. However, she did not mention that she also wanted to know if the Duke of Westbourne had done something terrible, and had caused her father’s eventual ruin. Well, she already knew that, but she wanted to see just how much other people knew about it.

“Well, your father had been so much quieter then. He would spend hours in his study. His most constant visitor was the young duke, Lord Westbourne. Given that Westbourne Abbey is nearby, it is not much of a surprise. There were, perhaps, two other people I have seen come to Ashbourne Hall that I did not know much of.”

“The Duke was there often?” Rosamund pressed.

“Aye. They would shut themselves in the Earl’s study,” the former maid mused, putting down her cup of tea on the low wooden desk between her and Rosamund. “They would stay there for hours. I believe it was because the Duke was responsible for dear Henry’s funds. It was a role passed to him by his father, I believe.”

“Oh,” Rosamund muttered. She knew some of the information, but she did not know the clear details because everyone was already quite distraught at that time for her to ask them. Women were also often cast aside and left ignorant when financial matters were being discussed.

“Whatever they may have been discussing then, I am glad that it was the Duke of Westbourne that ultimately bought Ashbourne Hall. He had made all of us a promise that as long as he owned Ashbourne, not one of us who had served your family would be evicted from our cottages. Because of my knees, I could no longer serve unless they needed extra staff, which is never, I cannot work there anymore, but I still live here in this cottage whether I pay rent or not. I also receive a pension.”

Rosamund frowned. Again, she was getting information that she did not expect nor want. Her chest ached at the constant confusion this village was throwing upon her.

He is thorough. He must have been showing his best self to the staff. A man of his stature and position knows what to do and how to act.

“Has anyone ever spoken about Henry’s trust within your hearing?” Rosamund asked. She did ask carefully. It was a dangerous question to ask, given that it might imply she believed Mrs. Higgins would ever eavesdrop. It was not her intention.

“Oh, never a word,” Mrs. Higgins replied gently. “His Grace is very discreet and so was your father.”

When Rosamund realized she was not getting anywhere with Mrs. Higgins, she bid her goodbyes and left. Instead of going straight home, she took a long, winding path along Ashbourne estate’s stone walls.

Of course, she was merely exercising her legs. She also needed to inspect the hedges by the boundary. However, deep inside, she was aware of what she was trying to do. Once she reached the wooden gates near the orchard and slowed down her steps, she knew that she meant to be discovered. If she could not discover anything new about the Duke, then she could annoy him. He could not have peace when her mind was in pure chaos.

Then, she ventured into the meadow where she had previously encountered the Duke of Westbourne and climbed over its wooden stile. It did not matter that the grass was high over this side, she managed to ease her way through the wildflowers with her eyes set on reaching the ancient oak trees so close to Ashbourne Hall’s carriage drive.

Again, so close and yet so far.

She had not been standing there for ten minutes when the sounds of a horse’s hooves sounded down the lane. She did not run. It was what she meant to do in the first place: to catch someone’s attention. To let him see that she would not rest until she had persuaded him to sell Ashbourne Hall back.

So, she waited.

She was not a thief or intruder. She was just reclaiming her home.

A tall, black stallion finally burst into view. It was moving at a light canter, although it had enough energy to gallop through the whole meadow in mere seconds. Sitting in his saddle, looking effortlessly aristocratic, was none other than Peregrine Blackwood. Instead of being intimidated, Rosamund could not help but chuckle. He finally had his horse today, and not just his riding crop.

It seemed riding was the main plan for the day. Peregrine wore a dark riding coat, tailored especially for him. It accentuated his broad shoulders and massive overall build. He had his leather riding boots, but wore no hat.

For a moment, Rosamund was again struck by how attractive the wicked Duke was, with his sharp jawline, full lips, and pale eyes. Yet, there was still something in him that reminded everyone that he should not be trifled with. He had a commanding presence.

Peregrine’s eyes were immediately on hers, as he pulled back on the reins. His horse let out a snort as he brought it to a halt a few feet away from her. He looked down at her with suppressed amusement, which he quickly hid with a frown. Rosamund met his gaze with nonchalance she did not feel.

“Lady Rosamund,” Peregrine said smoothly, his deep voice echoing through the meadow. “How delightful. It is almost as if I never expected an invasion for you, given that you have not set an appointment with me.”

Rosamund folded her arms across her chest, trying to ignore how handsome the man who was supposed to be her enemy was. She could not possibly be attracted to someone who was making her life miserable.

“Appointment? I truly do not believe I need one, Your Grace. Also, I am outside Ashbourne Halls, breathing fresh air. The air is free.”