Page 21 of An Unfamiliar Duke

PS As far as I can ascertain, there is not one lily to be had in all of London. I realize that asters may be considered a pitiable substitute, but I hope they will brighten your rooms regardless.

Rosalind set the note on the nearest end table and gently touched the delicate purple petals. The blossoms were lovely—not pitiable in the least. She shook her head in bemusement. How long had Sebastian devoted to searching the city for a flower that was currently out of season?

“Well, you have persuaded me.” Margaret’s voice brought Rosalind’s attention back to her guests with a start. “If a bunch of asters and a short note can produce such a look on your face, there must be more to your marriage to the Duke of Kelbrook than I had supposed.” She eyed the bouquet critically. “After all, they’re not even roses.”

The wedding Rosalind had dreaded for so long was now arranged, yet her focus remained on the flowers in her hand. “No,” she said, and something that felt oddly like hope warmed her heart. “They are not roses.”

Chapter 9

Sebastian sealed the letter to his steward, Grayson, and set it on the small pile of correspondence at the corner of his desk. All being well, that was the last letter he needed to write before the wedding. Mrs. Frost had undoubtedly whipped the household staff into a frenzy of activity upon receiving his earlier message. He was rather glad that he was not there to witness it. Writing to Grayson had simply ensured that his steward would be prepared to meet with him to discuss the needs of the estate upon his return. It would be a relief to reclaim some semblance of normalcy in his life after having been without it for the last two weeks.

He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. How different would things be at Finley Park with Rosalind there? Over the last few days, the loneliness of his present situation had struck him more forcibly than ever, and there had been times when he’d considered going to Langton House to visit Rosalind. But he had held off. Between packing and preparing for both her birthday and her wedding, she had plenty to occupy her time without him making unannounced calls.

Her birthday. Already halfway across the room, Sebastian stopped in his tracks. Dash it all, should he have bought her a gift? He had no idea what was expected of a gentleman in his situation. He was not yet Rosalind’s husband, but it seemed wrong to completely ignore the occasion.

Crossing the remaining distance to the door in a few short strides, he opened it and called for the housekeeper. “Mrs. Pargeter!”

Hurried footsteps reached him, coming down the stairs. “You called, Your Grace?”

Mrs. Pargeter was a good decade younger than Mrs. Frost, but she had been the housekeeper at the Kelbrooks’ London home for several years before his parents had died.

“I did.” He waited for her to reach him. “Miss Ainsworth is celebrating her birthday tomorrow. I wondered if you might have a suggestion as to what I might give her.”

Mrs. Pargeter blinked, appearing momentarily nonplussed. Sebastian had told his London staff of his impending marriage and departure for Finley Park, so his mention of Miss Ainsworth should not have come as a surprise. He tried a different tack. “Perhaps you remember my father purchasing gifts for my mother.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She appeared thoughtful. “It seems to me that more often than not, the late duke gifted your mother a piece of jewelry.”

Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair. She was right. He should have remembered as much himself. His mother had loved anything that sparkled. He could give Rosalind a beautiful necklace or set of earrings from his mother’s collection. Unfortunately, that did not solve his current need since the pieces were all safely ensconced in the safe at Finley Park.

“A gift of jewelry may have to come later,” he said.

“What do you know of Miss Ainsworth’s preferences?” Mrs. Pargeter asked. She had obviously picked up on his desperation. “Does she have a favorite flower?”

“Lilies,” he said without hesitation.

She frowned. “You’d be hard-pressed to find lilies at this time of year, Your Grace.”

“So I understand,” Sebastian said, wishing he’d thought to consult Mrs. Pargeter before spending an entire morning attempting to purchase the very flowers a few days previous.

“Does she like anything else in particular?”

“Numbers.”

“I see,” Mrs. Pargeter said, even though her puzzled expression made it quite clear that she did not.

Sebastian sighed. It made perfect sense to him, but perhaps she needed more clarification. “Miss Ainsworth likes counting things.”

“Then I would suggest that you give her something she can count.”

Mrs. Pargeter’s recommendation was so simple it was almost offensive, but Sebastian knew how often the most basic of solutions was the best possible answer. “Brilliant, Mrs. Pargeter. You have my thanks.”

His housekeeper blinked again, but when she realized that he was completely in earnest, she bobbed a curtsy. “My pleasure, Your Grace.”

* * *

It was her twenty-first birthday. Rosalind had considered waiting out the day in her bedchamber, but regardless of how much she wished that she had not reached this momentous milestone, ignoring it seemed as cowardly as it was pointless. So, instead, she dressed in her pale-blue gown, offered a silent prayer for any serenity the lovely color might evoke, and went downstairs to breakfast.

The hall was filled with trunks. Nora had been organizing and packing Rosalind’s clothing for the last couple of days, and if the number of pieces of luggage awaiting transportation to Finley Park was any indication, she had emptied every wardrobe and drawer in the house. Whatever Rosalind wore today and tomorrow would go with her in a separate, smaller trunk, but she likely would not see the ones in the hall again until she was settled in Finley Park.