Page 38 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
His father had shown him the Five Acre field with its pasture for grazing cattle, the meadow with its marshy ground, where they could harvest willow wands to make fences. He knew each cottage and the tenants. As he grew older, his father had insisted that he spent time with every worker on the estate staff.
Yet he had never felt close to his father. He wondered for a moment if Simon as the younger son had felt more affection for their father. He pushed that thought away immediately, as he would never have that conversation with his brother. That was another headache to face today, the arrival of his brother.
His thoughts turned to a pair of mesmerizing green eyes, which sometimes reminded him of precious emeralds or luminous jade. At other times, he felt pulled into a deep forest canopy of interlocking leaves.
She is an enchantress. Her eyes pull me in, and I want to get lost in a glorious green haze. I didn’t plan to kiss her hand. The impulse came, she smiled at me, and I was lost. I only wish I’d offered my embrace and held her close in my arms. I wonder if her hair has the scent of rose or jasmine flowers.
A voice called to him, and he stopped his daydreaming and returned to the real world. He looked towards the voice and took a deep breath as he saw his mother standing next to a familiar figure. Every bone in his body urged him to run in the other direction and protect the peace of mind that had taken so long to rebuild. Yet family duty called.
You gave me that, Papa, he thought with irony. A sense of duty towards Mama and our family. I am now the head of that family.
He forced himself to walk towards his mother, standing on the carriage drive in front of the house.
This is the sort of moment for which Papa trained me, he thought with a wry smile.
“Brother,” he said, making sure his face stayed bland, showing neither welcome nor disdain. “You join us for a house party. I am afraid I have urgent estate business that needs my attention. I’m sure Mama is looking forward to spending time with you, so I shall take my leave.”
He noticed the sheepish expression in Simon’s eyes. His fair hair curled around his face, giving him an angelic appearance.
Simon lowered his head in greeting. “It is good to be home,” was all he said.
They turned at the rumble of carriage wheels approaching. An elegant black coach, embossed with gold paint, clattered over the drawbridge into the courtyard and came to a standstill in front of the main door.
He noticed Simon freeze for a second, and Robert wondered if he knew the carriage’s occupant.
He heard her voice first, deep and sultry. He’d listened to that voice whispering words of love to him in a long-ago distant life. Lady Rosalind Wyndale.
Surely not? Had his mother invited his ex-fiancée without mentioning it. He could not believe she would have invited a woman who had jilted him and then his brother. If she had, then it was a step too far.
A rising red mist of anger made him look towards his mother. She was smiling in welcome as her guest alighted from the carriage.
She knew. She must have invited Rosalind to join the house party.
He watched as his brother’s face almost lit up with loving admiration as he stepped towards the carriage and offered the woman his hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, Robert saw a hand covered in the finest black lace reach for his brother’s hand as she climbed down the steps.
“Simon, you arrived before me!” She turned to his mother and curtseyed. “Your Grace, I’m delighted to be here for your house party. Castle Montbury is one of my favourite places. And now I’m here for two full weeks.”
“I hope you had a pleasant journey from town,” said his mother.
“Tolerable,” came the response. “At least there were no highwaymen,” and she laughed in her practiced sensual way.
So polished and refined, he thought. There is little here of the debutante I fell in love with during her first season in London.
As she switched her attention to him, Robert knew he needed to keep his distance and imagine he was wearing emotional armour to protect him from Rosalind.
The silence seemed endless, but Rosalind spoke first. “Your Grace,” she said and bobbed a quick curtsey. He bowed automatically, not even thinking about it after years of training.
“We meet again, and where better than Castle Montbury,” she drawled and looked around the inner courtyard. “So many memories,” and she let out an audible sigh.
As footmen descended to take her luggage into the castle, his mother suggested that she show Rosalind to her room. “I’ve put you in the violet room where you have a lovely view of the park and lake,” said his mother.
“Ah yes, the lake,” and she turned her gaze back to Robert. “More memories. Perhaps we should take a walk to the lake together one day, Your Grace.”
Robert stared at her, speechless. He had rarely seen such an elegantly dressed, exotically beautiful vision.
He forced himself not to nod in agreement to her suggestion as his mother guided her up the stone staircase into the castle.
