Page 22 of A Translation of Desire (The Brazen Curators #2)

R ose glared at the gentleman barreling down on her at Lady Halethorpe’s ball.

She’d already danced with two men tonight, well, more like stumbled through the steps.

She would not do it again, especially when all they wanted was for her to confirm and provide details on the outrageous dowry her father had saddled her with.

She cursed her father even though he wasn’t in the country.

Hell, Rose wished she weren’t in England.

That wasn’t exactly true. She wanted to spend more time with Augustus.

Knowing that her desire to spend time with the man prevented her from wanting to leave England disconcerted Rose.

It made her uncomfortable that a single person held such sway over her.

Tomorrow night, she and Augustus would confront Mr. Abbas.

Excitement swirled through her at the prospect of recovering the tablets, but her body flared with anticipation at the thought of spending time with Augustus.

The man and his thighs were never far from her mind.

She didn’t even realize she liked men’s legs until she met him.

A beautiful, petite blonde lady entered the ballroom as the butler announced, “Lady Gillings.”

The room increased in chatter as ladies went to greet her. Who was she? Rose studied her. She smiled as women talked to her animatedly, but a feeling of melancholy seemed to drift around her. Addie joined her, grinning. “Do you know who that is?”

“The butler just announced her.”

Addie shook her head. “No, who she is to Sinclair?”

Rose swiveled to face Addie. “What do you mean?”

“Years ago, society suspected she would marry Sinclair, but then she gave him up for someone who wasn’t a duke. For a love match.”

Lady Gillings was almost Augustus’s person.

A wave of jealousy coursed through Rose, and she hated that she couldn’t prevent it.

She didn’t respond to Addie’s comments but turned back to study the woman.

She was beautiful and would have made a remarkable duchess.

Her bearing exuded a grace that, no matter how hard Rose tried, she would never be able to achieve.

The lady was alone. Where was this great love? She frowned in disbelief that this personification of perfection could have resisted Augustus. “Where is her husband?”

“That is the saddest part. He passed away from an illness two years ago. She’s been in mourning. I’d heard she was returning but hadn’t seen her out and about.”

Had Augustus seen her? Why did her heart feel as if someone was squeezing it so tightly that it was hard to breathe? The woman beamed at a gentleman who offered his arm for a dance. She took it demurely, and Rose continued to watch her as she moved about the dance floor.

A deep sense of loss filled her because even though she didn’t want it to be so, this was Augustus’s match in every way. She turned away, remembering Addie was standing with her. She’d likely seen the many emotions that passed over her face based on her concerned frown.

“I didn’t realize—” Addie began, but Rose shook her head. “You assume wrong.”

Her friend looked at her skeptically. “What Sinclair had with that lady was years ago. They were so young.”

Rose sighed. “I don’t need your reassurance. Sinclair and I are friends, actually more like business associates.”

“It wouldn’t be surprising if you like him,” Addie insisted.

Rose tilted her chin up. “I would never like someone like Sinclair. A man who has never left England and finds the rules of propriety important.”

Addie didn’t look like she believed her, and she knew why.

Rose wasn’t sure she believed herself. Lady Gillings and her ladylike qualities complemented Augustus perfectly.

With her, he could build a life. With Rose, he could only have a few moments in time.

She would leave soon, and he would stay here running his vast estate with a proper lady by his side. A lady like Lady Gillings.

“Rose—”

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

Rose wouldn’t talk to her about Sinclair and angrily said, “I don’t bother you about Lord Hawley, so please stop bringing this up.”

They both knew she’d revealed far more than she intended at that moment. Sinclair mattered to her, and Addie now knew it.

They stood silently observing those dancing. Rose owed Addie an apology for her harsh words but didn’t feel like she could speak right now. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Startling her, Addie looped her arm through Rose’s. “Enough of all of this. Let’s go find some champagne.”

Rose nodded, forcing a smile. “I would like that. I’m sorry—”

Addie shook her head. “No. Don’t do that. You never have to apologize to me. Emotions and men make a muck of all women’s lives at some point or another. If I had a choice, I’d pick one that looked like Sinclair too.”

Rose shook her head, and Addie said, “I know you have no interest in talking about it. That is fine with me. Champagne will fix whatever you’re not feeling for the man.”

*

Augustus sat in the Den, worrying over his choice to spend an evening with Rose. His concern was not about himself but how it would impact her. They risked her ruination if they were discovered. That thought alone should have stopped him from going any further, but he knew deep down it wouldn’t.

Tomorrow evening, their relationship would be forever changed.

Walking away or denying his need for her was no longer an option.

Something about Rose beckoned him in a way that he’d never felt with another lady, even Catherine.

Rose had satisfied or righted something in him that had been empty until now. It enthralled and terrified him.

Rose was leaving and had no intention of returning.

He took a sip of his brandy—she certainly had no plans to be a duchess.

Perhaps he could join her abroad. He frowned at his absurd thought.

He was a duke and had responsibilities. Why did they feel like a heavyweight holding him down right now?

He knew why—Augustus wanted more from Rose than a few moments—he wanted the lady who traveled and took the antiquities world by storm long-term.

But he could never have her. For that to happen, she would have to change for him and become something she wanted no part of.

Augustus would never allow that. Common sense told him that he risked losing his heart by taking her to bed.

Still, he wanted his fucking night with her.

Augustus wanted to revel in her witty comments, body, and passion.

“Is something amiss? You’re scowling fiercely,” Devons remarked, dropping into a wingback chair across from him.

The club owner jerked him away from his thoughts. He sighed. “I’m fine. Just thinking about my estate.”

Devons snickered. “I didn’t realize a dukedom could make someone so unhappy.”

“Continuing the title is a great honor, but sometimes I feel smothered by it.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a grinning Lord Jude. Augustus forced himself not to roll his eyes. The man dropped down into the other empty chair. “You will never believe what I have heard.”

Augustus sighed. “What is it?”

“I was just informed that the Seely House, operated by the Historical Society for Female Curators, has been broken into twice. I knew those ladies shouldn’t be mucking about with artifacts.”

He and Devons instantly became alert because no one should know that information. Devons glared at him, “Who told you that?”

Jude’s eyes swung to him, widening, likely because he remembered that Devons partnered with the all-women’s club. “I have an associate acquainted with the constable who took the report.”

“Do not repeat what you said to anyone else,” Devons bit out.

Jude pursed his lips, clearly not liking being told what to do by a gentlemen’s club owner. Augustus leaned forward. “If I discover you repeated that story, there will be problems.”

Augustus’s title had power in moments like this, and he was aware of it.

Jude may ignore Devons, but he wouldn’t ignore the request of a duke.

The gossiper frowned at both of them, unhappy.

Finally, he stood. “Consider it forgotten, but mark my words—those ladies are headed towards trouble. No one should be encouraging them.”

Augustus said, “Do not forget what I said. If I hear one word, you will not see the inside of a social event for the rest of the Season.”

The man blanched, likely horrified that he wouldn’t be able to find anything to gossip about if that happened.

Jude nodded and rushed from the room. Devons chuckled. “You are a good man, Sinclair. Word will eventually get out.”

Augustus nodded. “I just want it to be after their grand opening.”

They were both silent, but finally, Devons said, “You are probably one of the few peers I hold in high regard. You work hard to ensure that your estate and the people who rely on you never have to go without. Not all lords are so decent.”

“What is the point you are trying to make?”

His friend chuckled. “My point is there is nothing wrong with doing something for yourself.”

Augustus lifted a haughty brow. “What do you mean?”

“You like her.”

Augustus knew precisely who he was talking about, but still asked, “Who?”

Devons took a sip of his drink. “Rose Calvert.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, unsure he could lie to his friend. Finally, he shrugged. “We have absolutely nothing in common and are not compatible.”

“Some would say the same thing about Diana and me.”

Devons and his betrothed had sacrificed a great deal to choose each other. Yes, they didn’t seem to care because they loved each other so much, but for Augustus and Rose, it wasn’t the same.

“She is only here temporarily. It doesn’t matter if I like her.”

“You could spend your time in England and abroad.”

Augustus snorted. “I have far too many responsibilities to be away for half the year.”

“Christ, Sinclair! You are richer than almost all of England. You can hire someone to manage your estate and businesses.

He glared at Devons. “I don’t shirk my duties.”

“It isn’t shirking your responsibilities by hiring good people and pursuing other things for the right reason. For a lady who may be your perfect match.”

Augustus took an even larger gulp of his drink, hating that Devons voiced the thoughts he was trying to avoid. “Practically, she isn’t right.”

“Fuck being practical.”

Devons’s declaration caused them both to chuckle, lightening the conversation. The club owner stood and said, “You deserve to be happy. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never looked at another woman like you look at Rose Calvert. I suspect that means something.”

Augustus sighed, and Devons threw his hands up. “I will say nothing more.”

He smiled, doubting that, and replied, “I know you mean well.”

Devons winked at him and walked away, leaving Augustus to think about the lady his friend suspected he was falling for—and, truth be told, he was. Having her in his bed wouldn’t improve the situation, but he didn’t care. He would take whatever time he could have with the scholar.