Page 39 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
Robert was left standing next to his brother. He no longer cared about being polite. He had done his best to conquer past resentments and accept his brother as a guest in his home, butthe arrival of Rosalind filled him with intense anger towards both his brother and mother.
“I’ll bid you good day and take my leave. I’ve urgent business to attend to,” he said curtly, and turned to walk away.
“Robert, wait,” came Simon’s familiar voice. “Surely we should talk?”
“Should we? About what? I can just about accept your arrival here. However, to invite and fawn over that woman. I have no idea whether it was your idea or Mama’s, but it is unacceptable. I struggle to understand how she thinks she can set foot in the place again.”
He looked at his brother for the first time, noticing how his face had aged.
“Simon, I fail to understand how you can be so polite to Rosalind. She jilted you, too. At least I had an engagement that lasted several months. I doubt your betrothal to Rosalind lasted a month.”
He saw the anger in his brother’s face and regretted his words. He didn’t want an all-out feud with his brother and had been determined to remain civil to him during his visit. However, the arrival of the woman who had betrayed him, transferring her affections to his brother, filled him with icy rage.
He walked away, leaving Simon standing there, and found his way to the stables.
“Grayson, can you saddle up Hector for me? I need a ride across the moors.”
He noticed Jim from the tavern, his new stable hand, and some of his anger drained away as he spoke with the boy about his duties and how much he appreciated the opportunity to work in the Montbury stables.
He needed the feel of the breeze against his body. Grey clouds hung overhead, and he found himself hoping for rain to wash away this intense anger.
I worked so hard to move on after Rosalind. I learned to diffuse the pain and hurt. Then, today, it all came flooding back.
Why is she here? Why would Mother invite her to stay? I’d struggle to spend even two minutes in Rosalind’s company.
He urged Hector to a gallop over the barren moorland high above the castle.
I’m the duke, and the castle is my home. How is it that my former fiancée is invited to visit? Perhaps I should be more like my father? If I had been autocratic and austere, then I don’t believe this would have happened.
I can understand Mother inviting Simon. He’s her son, and I understand how difficult it is that Simon and I are estranged. But Rosalind …
As horse and man rode across the treeless landscape, the heather beginning to flower and form a purple carpet, he let the tension drain from his body. He urged Hector to jump over a tall hedge, and for a split second, they were suspended in the air together.
He let the horse cool down to a canter and then trot towards a stream for a drink of cool water. He jumped from Hector’s back and put his hands in the cool balm of the stream, splashing the water over his face and hair.
He bent his head to lower his hands into the water again and saw tendrils of yellowy-green water weeds growing deep under the water’s surface. In places, the surface of the water almost glowed like a green citrine jewel.
Arabella again. Those eyes of green, flecked with radiant yellowy glints of colour when she walked in the sunshine. Everywhere he went, there were reminders of Arabella. He welcomed the image of her in his mind. In the same way that the cool, running water had refreshed his body, the face of Arabella, with those enchanting green eyes, was like a cooling balm to his spirits.
He knew now that he could return to the castle and deal with whatever emotional challenges awaited him there.
***
When he returned to the castle, he sought out his mother. For once, she looked a little uncertain as he walked towards her as she directed the arrangement of flowers in the music room. His mother had always had a gift for bringing the garden into the house by using flowers and foliage.
He thought of the music room as her special place. His mother was a gifted musician and could play a sonata as easily as a reel at an impromptu dance.
His mother dismissed Betsy, the parlour maid, who had been helping her with the display.
“Please tell Mrs Slater that I will be with her momentarily to decorate the drawing room,” she told Betsy.
“It won’t do, Mama. I can’t order Rosalind from the house, but I want to. I’m not being extreme or difficult. I’ve thought about this all afternoon, and it is not usual for a man to have a woman who broke off their engagement as a house guest.”
She began to speak, but he waved her to silence.
“It is intolerable. I don’t often say this as Montbury is your home, and you have been its mistress for many years, but I am the duke, and I feel insignificant today.”
“Robert, I don’t think I realized …” his mother started to reply.
