Page 77 of His Grace, the Duke
35
Rosalie
Captain Hartington lethimself be dragged into the back gardens, following between Rosalie and Renley as they made for the box hedge maze. There, at least, they might get a bit of a reprieve from the gusting wind.
Rosalie didn’t bother fetching a bonnet. She didn’t want to fight to keep it on her head. And instead of a pelisse, she snatched Mariah’s shawl off the back of her chair. She wrapped herself in the soft purple silk, following along after the pair of brooding, long-legged sailors.
As soon as they passed into the hedge maze, the wind died down and she brushed the tangle of loose curls from her face. She caught Renley’s eye and her cheeks warmed at his heated gaze. She looked pointedly away.
“So... how do you two know each other?” Captain Hartington muttered, the corner of his mouth tipping into a grin.
“We met back in September at Alcott Hall,” she replied.
“Ah, yes... the famed Alcott Hall. I’ve heard much about its beauty from Renley over the years.”
She smiled. “None of it is exaggerated.”
It pained her to admit just how much she missed the place already. It was dangerous to think of it as her home, even if her position with the duke seemed to be more settled. A social nobody like Rosalie could never be too careful, nor get too attached.
The captain sighed, tucking one hand in the pocket of his waistcoat. “And what do you make of our Lieutenant Renley here?”
“Easy now, Hart.” Renley laughed. “We can’t ask the lady to spill all her secrets upon a first meeting.”
The captain jabbed Renley with his elbow. “I’m just trying to get the lay of the land. It’s been nigh on three years since we last met, Ren.” He turned to Rosalie. “Are all the ladies falling over themselves to make him a good and proper wife?”
Her smile strained as she glanced to Renley. “I...”
“Ah... I see I’ve stuck a nerve.” He glanced between them, his grin lifting the corner of his mouth. “Is there a secret understanding between the two of you, then? Can we expect a letter from Gretna Green?”
“Christ, you always dive right in, don’t you?”
“You know you can tell your old friend Hart. I am a veritable vault of other people’s scandalous secrets.”
At the sound of Renley’s laugh, Rosalie blushed anew. “That is quite enough,” she pressed, tugging the ends of Mariah’s shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Lieutenant Renley and I are just friends. All those in the Corbins’ inner circle have been very good to me,” she added, not daring to look at Renley, lest it give them both away.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” the captain said with a shrug.“Tell me about this engagement, then. Why does Livy seem so miserable over it?”
She glanced over at Renley. His expression was veiled, his smile gone now that they had a grave matter to discuss. He gave her a nod, his meaning clear. It was safe to confide in this man. “Suffice it to say the match may be wanted by certain parties, but it is assuredlynotwanted by the pair themselves,” she explained.
The captain paused in his steps, turning to meet Rosalie’s eye. “She’s not in love with him, then?”
From his other side, Renley huffed a dry laugh. “The gorgon in love with Burke? She despises him. She hates everyone.”
“Gorgon?” Captain Hartington repeated.
“Aye... that’s what we call her,” Renley muttered. “A bit of an inside joke... sorry, Hart.”
“Livy the Gorgon.” The captain chuckled. “...It fits.”
Renley smirked. “Christ, does it ever.”
“Enough, Tom,” Rosalie chastised. These two may be intimate friends, but she still didn’t like them speaking of Olivia in such a way. She glanced back at the captain. “Lady Olivia does not want the match. Anyone would be upset in her position.”
Hartington growled, cracking the knuckles on each of his massive hands. “Henry would never stand for his sister marrying someone she despised.” He let a slow breath, thinking it over. “I’ll write to him tonight. If it’s the marquess putting pressure on her, maybe Henry can head him off.”
A fresh gust of wind blew down the lane, and Rosalie held tighter to the ends of her shawl. “It is not the marquess whoconspires,” she said. “If the Rutledges could be free of this match, they would already be gone from this house.”
Captain Hartington scowled. “So... it comes from Norland, then. Or is it the brother? Finchley?”
