Page 45 of A Translation of Desire
“Maybe not forever, but Mother and I could manage without you for a few months or even half the year.”
He lifted a brow, amused and intrigued. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Willa flushed. “I’m simply telling you that you don’t have to live life like every other lord does. You can make different choices.”
He’d never even thought about that. “You believe I should pursue Miss Calvert?”
She shrugged. “Only you can decide that, but you seemed different in her presence. Not as stiff. More at ease.”
“I’m not sure she is interested in becoming a duchess.”
Rose looked around at the opulent room and wrinkled her nose. “We shouldn’t whine. We are very fortunate, but sometimes when I return home, I look around and think it is rather much.”
It was. Yet, it was all he’d ever known. Long ago, he’d accepted this was his life and done all that was asked of him. He didn’t take risks, but neither did he shirk his responsibilities. Well, besides finding a wife.
His sister sighed, taking him away from his thoughts. She smiled. “What do I know? I like that she made you seem less ducal and more like the Auggie of my childhood, I suppose. I think the world would be lucky to see more of him.”
“I will try my best to be less proper and duke-like,” he said, winking at her.
In truth, Augustus missed that person too. Yet, he wasn’t sure it was possible to do as his sister said. He spent the last thirteen years becoming the duke. Still, his mind flashed to Rose, and he pondered what her adventures were like.
Guilt coursed through him that they hadn’t spoken in the last week. He needed to reach out to her. They should talk.
Chapter Fifteen
Rose sat inLisbeth’s drawing room, rereading her missive to Augustus; no, not Augustus, but the Duke of Sinclair. From now on, everything between them would be kept at a professional level. She flushed, still horrified about their time together in Lord and Lady Derry’s library. What a badly behaved fool she’d been. Her eyes flicked down, and she looked at the missive one more time.
Your Grace,
The Board of the Historical Society for Female Curators would like to meet with you to discuss our next steps in finding the missing tablets. Please notify us if you can be of further assistance.
Respectfully,
Miss Rose Calvert
Perfect. There was nothing salacious or a hint of emotion in the note. She would not think about the duke as anything more than an acquaintance. Rose folded the letter, and just as she prepared to place it in an envelope, she heard a knock at the front door. The hurried footsteps of Lisbeth’s butler, Morrison, echoed down the foyer. The caller was unexpected because if not, Morrison, ever so prompt, would have already had the front door open.
“Your Grace, this is unexpected. The Duchess of Lusby is not in.”
Rose shot to her feet. It was Sinclair. What was he doing here? Her heart pounded, and she frowned at herself. Rose would not react this way. The man hadn’t spoken to her in over a week.
“I’m here to see Miss Calvert,” he announced.
“Let me see if she is in, Your Grace,” the butler said.
Morrison made his way into the drawing room and bowed. Rose would never understand how Lisbeth had adjusted to all this pomp. “Miss Calvert, you have a guest, but I can tell him to return when a chaperone is present.”
She looked at the butler incredulously. “Morrison, do you really think I need a chaperone? I have traveled alone with the duke.”
He bowed. “I will escort him in.”
Rose nodded and waited. She could have a professional relationship with this man. He was too much of a gentleman to mention the incident she suspected. The footsteps became closer, and her stomach twisted in knots.
Morrison entered first. “The Duke of Sinclair.”
She nodded at the butler and sucked in a breath as Augustus walked in.Why does this man have to be so attractive? He is in his mid-thirties. Shouldn’t he be paunchy or aging awfully because of the excesses of wealth?she asked herself. But no, the man looked like temptation come alive in a starched jacket and breeches that molded to his firm thighs.
She tore her gaze away as Morrison bowed, leaving them alone. Rose curtsied. “Your Grace.”
