Page 121 of His Grace, the Duke
“Youneededthe experience, James,” she countered. “You came into your role a young man, hopeful and naïve. You needed to learn to fight. You needed to learn towin.If I had just given in and paid your debts, offered you loans, youwouldn’t be the brilliant lord you are now. You needed to stay hungry. You needed to work.Itaught you how to work.”
“And now? What do we do now?”
“Now you keep running your brother’s estate as the silent Duke of Norland. You are more than capable, James. You don’t need my money, nor my help. Should you ever find yourself in a position where you do... simply ask.”
With a growl, he stormed out of the room, closing the door with a snap that made the pictures rattle and Rosalie flinch.
The duchess made to leave too. Pausing by the door, she turned, her eyes leveled on Rosalie. “Your mother would have made the perfect duchess,” she murmured, tears in her eyes. “Patient and demure, lovely as a painting. She would have been worthy enough to wear that tiara on her wedding day.”
Rosalie nodded, not bothering to wipe away the tear that slipped down her cheek.
The duchess gave her a soft smile. “If it is ever her daughter’s wish to become a viscountess... I will not stand in the way.”
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Rosalie
A viscountess. Inwhat world would Rosalie Harrow, the orphaned nobody without family, position, or connection, ever deserve to become a viscountess?
No. Notaviscountess.Theviscountess. The Viscountess of Finchley.
It had been a day since the duchess let those words fall from her lips, and still Rosalie was in pieces over it. She knew what James wanted from her. His principles would not accept a life of living in the shadows, always being afraid to show his affection, even in the privacy of his own home.
But was inconvenience the right motive tomarry? Certainly not.
Even if there was hope that marriage to James might be different, that he might one day confess his love and lead with her at his side rather than her following in his wake, now everything was far too complicated.
Doubly complicated.
Burke and Tom belonged to her and she to them. There would be no marrying James Corbin at their expense. Andwhat man could marry knowing he was guaranteed to find his best friends in his wife’s bed?
Now the word “viscountess” echoed in her ears like the pounding of a drum. In all her worrying, Rosalie had foolishly given no thought to James’ title. He wouldn’t be just some country gentleman living an eccentric life with his wife and her lovers. He was a viscount. If George and Piety failed to have children, he would be the next Duke of Norland. She could already imagine the headlines:
Honorable V— Finchley to wed the jezebel of C— House. Stones to be thrown at four o’clock.
It was laughable. Unsupportable.
Rosalie would never...couldnever put James in a position to be questioned or ridiculed by the vultures of theton. She would leave first. As he so rightly predicted, she would disappear like a puff of smoke, and they would all eventually be better off without the misery and heartache she brought them.
It was with all these dark thoughts swirling that she sought out the one person who might give her some much-needed perspective. She found him in a lonely back corner on the third floor of the house. The footman standing sentinel outside the door didn’t question her as she gave the door a soft knock, opening it a crack.
“Your Grace, I was hoping we could talk...”
“Cabbage?”
She pushed the door open a bit more.
His surprise was eclipsed by his panic as he squawked, “Don’t come in! I’m—there’s—naked!”
She paused, her hand on the doorknob. She could already see a bit into the room. If the piles of canvases stacked along the walls were not a giveaway, the pungent smell of oil paintwas. Curiosity won out, and she pushed open the door, letting herself in.
“You’re not naked,” she chided.
The duke stood in the middle of the room behind an easel, which was turned towards the window to catch the best light. Narrowing his eyes, he clamped his mouth shut and stared daggers over her shoulder at the footman.
“Harrison, you’re fired,” he snapped. “I told you not to let anyone bother me while I’m in here—no, don’t touch that—”
Rosalie dropped her hand away from the canvas she was about to flip over. “What are you working on?”
