Page 83 of An Unfamiliar Duke

“Thank you, Wesley.”

How Rosalind could appear elegant dressed in a mud-spattered dressing gown and an oversized gentleman’s coat, Sebastian could not fathom. But she did. And when she smiled at the stablehand, color flooded the boy’s face. Wesley ducked his head and led Tempest into his stall.

“Come,” Sebastian said. “It is long past time that you were out of those muddy clothes and safely ensconced in a warm bedchamber.”

Rosalind sighed. “I rather think that we had this very same conversation a few hours ago.”

“It does seem that way.” He kept his arm around her. Since they had to brave the cold all the way to the house, it made perfect sense. It was also precisely what he wanted to do. “Do we need to confine you to your rooms for a few days to keep you from getting wet and muddy again?”

“Perhaps the workshop or the library would be better locations,” she said. “With you there to ensure that I stay dry.”

Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight, and Sebastian chuckled. “Worthy suggestions, Your Grace. I shall take them under advisement.”

“Good, but in the meantime, I am ready for another warm bath.”

They hurried to the house, not wanting to be outdoors any longer than necessary. Winter’s long nights were almost upon them, and even though morning would soon be here, darkness bathed the house still. Sebastian pushed open the front door and ushered Rosalind inside. A maid was crossing the entrance hall, a coalscuttle in hand. She stared at Sebastian and Rosalind as though they were apparitions.

When Sebastian closed the door and moved farther into the room, she gulped and bobbed a hasty curtsy. “Good . . . good morning, Your Grace.”

“Good morning,” Sebastian said. It felt like the wrong greeting entirely. Somehow, he’d missed an entire night’s sleep. “I need to speak with Vickers and Mrs. Frost. Have they arisen?”

“I’ll fetch them,” the maid said. “Right away.” She bobbed another curtsy and all but fled across the hall to the servants’ entrance.

Sebastian waited. Now that they were safely returned to Finley Park, tiredness was hitting him like a sledgehammer. He removed the satchel and rolled his shoulders.

“You must be exhausted.” Rosalind was watching him, concern in her eyes.

“I will survive.” He offered her a wry smile. “So long as I reach my bed within the hour.”

She glanced at the longcase clock and nodded. “One hour. I shall hold you to that, no matter how many seemingly urgent duties arise in the meantime.”

“Ah, my survival is important to you?”

“Yes.” He had spoken in jest; she had not. She met his eyes. “Most important.”

He took her hand. Across the hall, a door opened and footsteps—steady and sure—crossed the tile toward them. Sebastian turned to greet his butler.

“Is something amiss, Your Grace?” Vickers kept his eyes on Sebastian, but he could not have missed Rosalind’s appearance.

“Yes. Rather a lot, actually.” Sebastian ran his hand across his face, attempting to gather his thoughts. His first priority was Rosalind. “Is Mrs. Frost available?”

“I am here, Your Grace.” The older lady tugged her mobcap into place as she hurried to join them.

“Her Grace has endured a grueling few hours and is in need of a warm bath, clean clothes, and rest,” he said.

It was a credit to his housekeeper that she exhibited no incredulity over Rosalind’s current condition and no dismay over his instructions. As far as he could remember, they were almost exactly what he had told her when they’d returned from rescuing Mrs. Tucker.

“I assure you, this will be the last time in the foreseeable future that I arrive back at the house in such disarray, Mrs. Frost,” Rosalind said, her thoughts obviously mirroring his.

“It seems to me that you’ve been put through far more than you should, Your Grace. I’m only sorry that you have had such a difficult time of things.” Mrs. Frost appeared genuinely concerned. It seemed that when it came right down to it, her motherly instinct was stronger than her decorum observance. “I shall have some water put on the stove, and we shall have you put to rights again in no time.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Frost,” Rosalind said. “And might I ask that the same courtesy be extended to the duke.”

“Of course. I shall notify James immediately.” Mrs. Frost crossed the hall with purpose.

Rosalind offered Sebastian a tired smile. “You have forty-one minutes remaining, Your Grace.” Wearily, she turned and took a step toward the stairs. She stumbled, and Sebastian reached for her, catching her elbow.

“Wait,” he said. “I will walk you to your rooms.”