Page 159 of His Grace, the Duke
James made themall wait at Corbin House for nearly a fortnight while Burke recovered his strength well enough to withstand the bouncing carriage ride back to Alcott Hall. Rosalie was beside herself with joy to see how quickly Burke was recovering. He’d regained most of his feeling down his arm and across each finger of his hand. He had mild complaints about numbness, but that was expected to fade as he continued to heal. Three doctors had seen him, and each said all they could prescribe for him now was time.
The gossip maelstrom swirling about thetonmeant that no one left the house unless absolutely necessary. Even the servants were being accosted on the streets, the hungry vultures desperate for more details of what the papers were calling the Corbin Affair.
It didn’t help that the house was embroiled in yet more gossip the day after the wedding-turned-investiture-turned-shooting. But the nature of this gossip filled Rosalie with so much happiness, she could hardly stop herself from smiling.
The house woke that Saturday morning to the shrill shrieking of the marchioness.
“She’s gone!”
Rosalie emerged from her wing of the second floor, Tom and James on her heels, to find the marchioness standing in the middle of the ladies’ wing still in her nightgown and ribbon curls. The other ladies were spilling out of their doors, eyes wide with confusion.
“Lady Deal, are you hurt?” James called, springing into action.
“She-she left!” the marchioness wailed. “My baby. My darling girl!” She sank to her knees right there in the middle of the carpet, a letter clutched in her hand.
Rosalie and Elizabeth rushed forward, putting comforting arms around her shoulders. “Where is Olivia?” said Rosalie.
“Gone,” the marchioness sobbed. “She’s ruined herself on that man at last.”
A few of the other ladies gasped.
Rosalie’s eyes shot up to James and Tom, her heart pounding in her chest. In all the horror of the previous day, she may have forgotten to mention her bit of meddling. She glanced down at the trembling marchioness. “Can I read the note?”
The marchioness shoved the piece of parchment into her hand and Rosalie read:
My Dearest Mama,
If you have found this, then you know that I am gone. Please don’t hate me for claiming my own happiness. I have decided to marry Captain William Hartington, whom I have loved these long years, and who loves me. Love, Mama; it is a gift we all must cherish.
We are on our way to Gretna Green. Once we are married, we intend to return to his family estate in Derbyshire before he is recalled to his ship in the new year. If you can find it in your heart to join us for Christmas, I would dearly love to see you and Papa before we take up his new position in Jamaica.
All my love, Your Livy
A swell of relief filled Rosalie, warming her from head to toe. Burke would live. James and Tom were safe. George was happy. Olivia would be married. All was well. All was as it should be.
***
When it was clear Burke was not only well enough to leave London, but desperate to do so, James finally relented. The morning of their departure, she was surprised to find George waiting for them in the entry hall.
“Are you sure you won’t return with us?” James said, taking his hat and gloves from the footman.
“You know how I hate country life,” George replied. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He slipped the signet ring off the smallest finger of his left hand and held it out to James. “Here, this is yours now, I suppose. In all the drama, I quite forgot to give it to you.”
Rosalie couldn’t help the tears that filled her eyes as she watched James swallow down his own emotions and reach out to take the ring from his brother’s hand.
“Thank you, George,” he muttered, slipping it on his finger. He quickly put on his glove, curling his hand into a fist.
Rosalie smiled up at George. “What will you do now?”
George tucked his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. Town feels too confining while all the gossip swirls about. I was thinking I might go on my honeymoon.”
Burke snorted. “All alone?”
Rosalie cast him a warning look. It was one of the great mysteries of her life that she found herself feeling so protective of George Corbin. But she still remembered the moment they shared in his studio where he admitted to her being his onlyfriend. It was an odd sort of friendship... he was an odd sort of person... but she intended to cherish it all the same.
“I think that’s a lovely idea,” she told him. “The world is a big place. It would be a delight to see some of it.”
“Do you have a mind to travel, Rose?” Tom called, crossing the entry hall towards them, hat in hand. “I could always help with that. I’m rather good at sailing, you know.”
