Page 9 of The Burdened Duke (Willenshires #4)

William glanced at the trail of water soaking into Miss Brookford’s glove, and hastily withdrew a handkerchief.

“It wasn’t I who jostled you,” he said suddenly, in case she thought he might have been responsible.

“I didn’t think that it was you, your Grace,” she responded, setting down the glasses on a nearby windowsill. “Where… where is my sister? I found her a seat, but apparently that woman persuaded her to give it up, and…”

“Oh, Miss Gillian went to sit with your mother, I believe. She asked me to let you know where she had gone. I believe she felt guilty at leaving you behind but found herself in great need of a chair.” William paused, biting his lip. “Is Miss Gillian often unwell?”

Miss Brookford’s expression tightened. “She’s always been a little sickly. Not too sickly, but she requires a little extra care. I can look after her.”

He nodded, hoping that he hadn’t implied that she could not take care of her sister.

“Indeed, I’m sure of that. Does the water agree with you?”

She blinked, as if forgetting the very reason that Bath had been built, and snatched up one of the glasses, taking a long sip. Her nose wrinkled.

“Chalky. Warm and chalky.”

He suppressed a smile. “That’s meant to be a good sign.”

“I’m sure it is. I feel healthier already.”

He did laugh at that, smothering his smile with a hand. His father had been very clear on his opinion of dukes who laughed or smiled ingratiatingly. Miss Brookford, however, did not seem to think his laughter was uncalled for or an unmanly display, and only gave a small, satisfied smile.

“So, as this is my first time in Bath,” she said, draining her glass and looking as though she would rather spit it all out again, “tell me, what else is there to do here beyond drink the water?”

“A great deal, actually. There are theatres, dining houses – some excellent ones, I can make recommendations if you would like – and there is a great deal of good society in town at the moment. I believe my mother had planned plenty of gatherings, balls, soirees and such for her guests, so you needn’t worry about being bored.”

“Oh, I wasn’t implying that I would be bored,” she said hastily. “As I say, I haven’t been in Bath before.”

“There are the Roman Baths next door,” William offered. “The architecture is quite breathtaking, and I believe we could learn a great deal from the innovations of the Romans. To contemplate what a civilization so distant from our own has accomplished! The structures of the aqueducts alone are…” he trailed off, suddenly aware that he was babbling excitedly about the sort of thing ladies were not often interested in. He glanced down at Miss Brookford, trying to gauge if he were boring her.

She was looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Go on,” she said. “I am listening.”

He felt colour rise to his cheeks. Of course, William’s olive skin did not allow for much visible blushing, but still.

“We are planning a tour of the Roman Baths today,” he heard himself say. “You ought to come with us.”

This was not why he had approached her. This was not the reason at all.

The real reason was that William had decided that enough was enough. He had her locket in his pocket, wrapped in the same delicate strip of muslin which had protected it since he found it, and he had planned to hand it over to her once and for all.

“Here,” he would say, as casually as possible, “I believe this is yours? I picked it up after a party, and I believe it belongs to you.”

And then he would dismiss any expressions of gratitude, and the matter would be concluded.

Yet his hand remained resolutely out of his pocket, and Miss Brookford remained unaware that he had the necklace at all.

What is wrong with you? Just give it back. The longer you keep it, the odder it will look. Give the wretched thing back, and then you can concentrate on more important matters, like managing the future and letting Miss Bainbridge know her plans are acceptable.

I daresay the woman already has our wedding planned out, down to the guest list.

It was half a joke, but suddenly didn’t seem very funny at all.

“Your Grace?”

He blinked, suddenly jerked back to the present. Miss Brookford was looking up at him, mildly curious.

“Hm?”

“You seem preoccupied. Is…” she paused, shifting, “is everything quite alright, your Grace? Is there anything I can help with?”

Before William had a chance to say anything at all – not that he had the slightest idea of what he might say – Alexander came sailing over, with Abigail on his arm.

“Enjoying the water?” Alexander chirped. “Good day, Miss Brookford.”

“I believe Lady Brennon said that this is your first visit to Bath?” Abigail spoke up, as softly spoken as always. She had come out of her shell since her marriage to Alexander, but she was still Abigail, who thought before she spoke and never had a harsh word for anybody. Frankly, William thought that his brother had met with exceptional good luck in marrying Abigail, although Society in general had disapproved of the match for many reasons. For example, Alexander had a reputation as a rake, and Abigail and her family were not wealthy.

Not that it mattered, of course. After his wedding, Alexander received his portion of their inheritance and was now a remarkably rich man. The only part of the Willenshire inheritance that was not claimed was William’s part. He was receiving increasingly nervous letters from the family solicitor, reminding him of the terms of the will and the approaching deadline.

As if I wasn’t aware of every passing day, launching me towards the deadline, William thought, with a rush of frustration. As if I don’t have my siblings’ happy marriages in front of me constantly, reminding me of what I do not have and will likely never achieve.

Not marriage, of course, I’m fairly sure I can manage that.

Love.

He swallowed hard, jerking himself back to the present.

“His Grace was just telling me that you plan a tour of the Roman Baths today,” Miss Brookford was saying, and William was uncomfortably aware that the conversation had gone on without him. Nobody had noticed, however.

No, that was not quite true. He glanced up and saw his sister-in-law looking at him, her expression thoughtful and cool. She gave him a small smile, and he was not entirely sure what it meant. Or even if it meant anything.

“You ought to come with us,” Alexander was saying. “King’s Bath, isn’t it? That’s what we’re touring? The ladies are doing the Queen’s Bath.”

Abigail shot her husband a quick, intent look which William could not interpret, but Alexander’s eyebrows flickered.

“You should come with us to the King’s Bath,” he said at once, before William could say a word.

William bit his lip. Hard. “Alexander, I’m sure Miss Brookford would rather…”

“Oh, yes, I would love to!” she chirped, before he could finish. “His Grace was just telling me about the architecture and the cleverness of the Romans, and I should love to see it myself in person. My mother and sister will probably be happy to while away their afternoon here in the Pump Room, but I am already bored.” She paused, blinking. “Not bored , exactly. Ladies aren’t bored, are they?”

Colour rushed into her face, but she recovered when Abigail reached over and patted her shoulder.

“I know it,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry – this is quite an informal gathering. The Dowager likes things done properly, but when it’s just us, things are quite different. I was pleasantly surprised by how friendly the Willenshire siblings are. You’ll find the same, I’m sure.”

William eyed his sister-in-law. Save the charm for Miss Bainbridge, he wanted to say. She’s the one we want to impress.

Miss Brookford smiled. “Thank you. I must say, all of this is quite new to me. Bath, and all that. I’ve never much enjoyed the Season.”

Abigail exchanged a smiling look with Alexander. “Neither did I. Let me tell you, having the right person by your side makes all the difference.”

Miss Brookford’s smile faltered, just a little. She did not look at anyone in particular.

Before the awkward moment could expand, Lady Brennon appeared, elbowing her way through the crowd.

“There you are, Lavinia! Where in the world have you been?” she hissed, her grim expression softening to a smile when she saw William. “Oh, your Grace! I had no idea Lavinia was speaking to you. I thought she had become lost in reverie or some similarly fanciful notion. You know how capricious young ladies can be.”

“That is not my experience, Lady Brennon,” William managed, but the woman did not seem to be listening, entirely preoccupied with picking at the lace at Miss Brookford’s neckline, and tweaking curls into place. “Please, don’t let me keep you.”

“His Grace has invited me to tour the Roman Baths afterwards,” Miss Brookford said, determination in her voice. “The King’s Baths, I believe.”

Lady Brennon blinked. “The King’s Baths? Don’t you mean the Queen’s Baths? Oh, never mind, it hardly matters. Of course you can go, dear. Now, come, Gillian is asking for you, and we are sitting with Mr. Thompson and his very genteel brother. Come along.”

She towed her daughter into the crowd, whispering something into her ear that bore a notable resemblance to the adage, “do not place all your eggs in a single basket.”

That left the three of them alone. Abigail and Alexander both turned to level slow, thoughtful looks at William.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “What are you two looking at? And while we’re at it, Alexander, what were you thinking? Ladies tour the Queen’s Bath, and gentlemen tour the King’s. Why would you invite Miss Brookford to come with us?”

Alexander shrugged. “Abigail wanted me to.”

“How in the world did you know that she… oh, never mind. You shouldn’t have done that. Miss Brookford doesn’t know how things are done.”

“It’s not as if she’ll be ruined, touring the King’s Baths,” Abigail sighed. “It’s just a silly tradition. I suspect that Miss Brookford would be interested in seeing both Baths, to be truthful.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer to William. “And I suspect that my brother is more interested in Miss Brookford than he cares to let on.”

“Yes, I suspect so too,” Abigail said, eyeing him absently. “It is harder than you might imagine, following your heart, William.”

William cleared his throat, straightening his waistcoat. The conversation had suddenly become too uncomfortable, and the crowds were pressing in on him in a way he had not noticed before.

“I have made up my mind, almost. Miss Bainbridge is the obvious choice for my bride. She is educated, well-bred, and can manage the role perfectly. I would be a simpleton to look elsewhere.”

“I have to agree,” Alexander shrugged. “I don’t particularly like Miss Bainbridge, but I think she would suit you , William.”

That sounded like an insult, somehow, but William kept his lips closed and said nothing.

You don’t know me; he found himself thinking. And neither does Miss Bainbridge.