Page 55 of His Grace, the Duke
Rosalie gasped as James sputtered. “What—no—”
“You ruin her in the eyes of good society, making her useless to me as a ward. What else is left other than you either marry her, or cast her out?”
He could see the look of horror on Rosalie’s face. “Nothing happened between Miss Harrow and me,” he declared. “Anyone who dares to impugn her honor will answer to me. I asked her to accompany me because I knew she would help to plan the party for George—”
“Don’t you spit that lie at me again, James,” his mother cried.
“It is no lie. The date is set, the invitations sent. On Friday, all of society will see I made no lie. She planned it all with Mrs. Robbins, leaving me free to do the other work that brought me to Town.”
“Oh, yes? And what work might that be?” George said with a raised brow.
“You have never once questioned my business affairs,” James countered, his eyes narrowed at his brother. “I do your job, and you’re happy for me to do it. I will not answer you now, since I know your present curiosity is only rooted in seeing me discomfited in Miss Harrow’s presence.”
Their mother took a step closer. “And what is this nonsense I hear about you placing her in the bachelor’s corridor? Have you no sense of propriety?”
James dragged both hands through his hair, not daringto look at either George or Rosalie. He didn’t want them to ruin this ruse. “Bloody hell, Mother. How many times in how many ways must I say it? I do not care about Miss Harrow. I stuck her in the bachelor’s wing with only Renley and Sir Andrew for company because I thought it is whatyouwould wish.” He pointed a stern finger at her. “Six rooms remain for the ladies and all six are necessary. Miss Harrow’s comfort is certainly secondary to that of a marchioness, am I correct?”
He raised a brow, waiting for her response. When she just scowled, he added, “Put Miss Harrow wherever you like. Hell, give her my room. Put her with the servants, set up a cot in the conservatory by the pineapple plants. I do not care.” He was careful to enunciate each word.
Next to him, Rosalie’s stillness spoke louder than a scream. Damn, but he hated himself sometimes.
His mother spun around to face Rosalie. “Well, I want to know what compelled you to agree to my son’s ludicrous schemes. Why did you not come to me directly? You have been my ward for less than a fortnight, and already you have distressed me and embarrassed me so greatly—”
“I am not your ward.”
James had to blink twice, unsure if he had seen Rosalie’s lips move. But there she was, chin raised, eyes glistening with tears, staring down his mother glare for glare.
His mother narrowed her eyes. “What did you say?”
Rosalie dared to take a step closer. “I said I amnotyour ward.”
26
Rosalie
Tears stung Rosalie’seyes, but she wasn’t going to let them fall. She squared off against the duchess, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She heard the horrible things this woman shouted at James, at her own son. Rosalie knew bad parenting better than any person living. She could taste the cruelty and manipulation on her tongue. It had the bitter tang of iron. It sickened her.
From the moment she’d entered the room, she wanted nothing more than to fling herself in front of James, determined to stop any more blows from touching him. Even when he spoke harshly of her, she wanted to be his shield. He stood there now, eyes wide, watching her with an anxious look on his face.
The duchess called out in a loud voice, “Well, Miss Rose? Are you or are you not my ward? For if you are not, you will pack your bags and leave this very hour. I will not waste my time or my generosity on an ungrateful girl who does not understand the value of rank and respectability.”
She turned her full attention to the duchess. “You speak of respect, and yet you have offered menone.”
The duchess gasped. “You impudent little—”
“You summoned me to Alcott under false pretenses,” Rosalie pressed. “You knew what you wanted when you invited me. You waited until I was already here before you demanded I become your spy. You manipulated me, Your Grace. Playing on my emotions, using the memory of my dead mother as your way into my confidence.”
“Lies,” the duchess retorted. “I loved Elinor—”
“I am not here because of any warmth of feeling you harbor for me or my mother. I am here because you don’t want to lose control!”
The words hung in the air between the four of them. Neither of her sons dared to move. They were too shocked by Rosalie’s display. Rosalie was equally shocked.
The duchess broke first, blinking away angry tears. “You dare presume to know me?”
Rosalie inched closer, a soft smile on her lips. “I know only what you havetoldme.”
The duchess simmered with fury and resentment... and a whisper of fear. Rosalie could see it as the faintest of glimmers in the lady’s deep blue eyes.
