Page 4 of An Unfamiliar Duke

Her mother paused. “Oh my.”

“What is it?”

“This letter is dated September 3.”

Rosalind began counting days. “But that is almost four weeks ago.”

“Poor postal service indeed,” her mother said grimly before returning to the duke’s letter. “‘I hope to conclude my business in East Lothian before month’s end, at which point I shall return to London so that I might call upon you and Miss Ainsworth at Langton House on the first of October.’”

“The first of October?” Rosalind could barely hear her own whispered words over the pounding of her heart. “But that is today’s date.”

“I believe it is.” Her mother set the paper down and squared her shoulders. “It appears we are to pay the price for the postal service’s delinquencies a second time.”

His Grace would be here today. Rosalind forced herself to breathe. “Did . . . did he say anything more?”

Her mother shook her head. “It is signed, ‘Yours sincerely, Kelbrook.’”

No mention of the marriage contract or of his feelings about it. Had His Grace consulted his solicitors with regard to the document’s particulars? He must have. Else why would he be coming to speak with Rosalind at this particular time after having been silent for so long?

“It would have been helpful if His Grace had stopped to see us before leaving London,” her mother said.

“It would have been even more helpful if he’d attended some Society events over the last few years,” Rosalind said bitterly. “At least then I would know what my future husband looks like.” She took a deep breath, no longer able to hold back her fears. “Is there something amiss with him? I remember him as a tall, thin boy who seemed to have his wits about him, even if he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Her mother chuckled. “Since your naturally warm and welcoming disposition generally encourages friendships, I rather think most people would consider anyone who wanted nothing to do with you to be the epitome of witless, my dear.”

“Then why has he stayed away?”

“Perhaps he feels as uncomfortable about this marriage arrangement as you do.”

“Even if that were the case, it should not prevent him from socializing with others. I occasionally hear whispers that the Duke of Kelbrook is in residence at his townhouse, but he never appears at any of the balls or musical evenings,” Rosalind said. “If it weren’t for the fact that other gentlemen have mentioned his presence at Whitehall, I would think him a phantom.”

“I believe he does take his responsibilities in Parliament quite seriously,” her mother said.

Rosalind had heard similar reports. Indeed, the little she knew of His Grace consisted of praise for his levelheaded comments and voting record in the House of Lords and curiosity over the inordinate amount of time he spent on the Continent in the company of the French brothers who purportedly believed they could make things fly by lighting a fire beneath a fabric canopy. She bit her lip. Perhaps His Grace was addlepated after all; the latter endeavor did not seem remotely sensible.

Waves of despair licked at her simmering indignation. She dropped the serviette wadded in her hand onto the table and rose to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, Mother, I should like to retire to my room for little while.”

Her mother’s sympathetic look did nothing to quell Rosalind’s warring emotions.

“As you like, my dear. No doubt, His Grace will wait until calling hours before making an appearance.”

Rosalind nodded and walked out of the room. The Duke of Kelbrook was coming to Langton House today. Today. He was coming today. Over and over again, the refrain echoed through her head, and by the time she reached her bedchamber, she feared she might lose the solitary piece of toast she’d managed to eat for breakfast.

Her maid, Nora, was in the room, placing Rosalind’s folded clothing in the chest of drawers. She looked up from the task as Rosalind entered.

“Pay me no mind, Nora,” Rosalind said, dropping into the nearest chair with a shuddering breath.

Nora went to pick up another chemise and then hesitated. “If you don’t mind me askin’, miss, are you feeling quite well?”

“Yes. No.” Rosalind moaned. “My stomach is a mite unsettled. That is all.”

“Can I fetch you something to relieve the discomfort?”

Rosalind mustered a weak smile. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but I fear that the only possible remedy to my current ailment would be to remove myself from Langton House entirely.”

Nora was too well trained to exhibit confusion at Rosalind’s odd remark; instead, she interpreted it as simply as possible. “I daresay a walk in the fresh air would be just the thing, if you feel up to it.”

Rosalind sat up, truly considering the idea for the first time. She would go quite mad if she stayed in her rooms until His Grace arrived. A walk would give her time to clear her mind and steady her nerves. “I believe I do. Would you accompany me, Nora? I should like to go right away.”