Page 53 of An Unfamiliar Duke

His laughter erased the lines of fatigue on his face. “I hope Jonas returns before too long.”

“I do too, but it would be most ungentlemanly for you both to side against me,” she warned.

“Agreed,” he said. “And as much as I look forward to seeing your brother again, I would much rather be on your team.” He gathered up his letters.

“Are you leaving so soon?”

He met her gaze. She saw reluctance in his tired eyes. “Will you forgive me if I do not stay today? I must finish before the courier arrives.”

She nodded. “And then will you sleep?”

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across her forehead. “And then I will sleep.”

Rosalind stood rooted to the spot as Sebastian walked out of the room. His kiss had been so fleeting and so natural, it was over almost before she knew it had happened. And yet, her skin still tingled from his touch. She pressed her hand to her fluttering stomach and eyed the row of food platters on the sideboard uneasily. He had not made eating breakfast without him easy.

* * *

The moment the workshop door closed behind him, Sebastian reopened Bloxley’s letter. He had read nothing more than the return address at the top of the page before Rosalind had arrived in the dining room. As anxious as he was to put Meikle’s project behind him, discovering what Bloxley had to say on the matter of Mr. Sellers took precedence.

Setting the other letters down on the corner of the table, Sebastian took a seat by the fire. He was not sure if Rosalind had guessed that he’d been in his workshop the entire night. Admittedly, the last three hours had been spent dozing in this chair, but that was a far cry from a solid night’s sleep in his bed. He shook off his fatigue and focused on the letter in his hand.

Claremont House, London

21 October 1782

Dear Duke of Kelbrook,

I have had very little personal interaction with Mr. Nigel Sellers beyond polite pleasantries. Up until today, my knowledge of the gentleman was limited to the general observation that he is a regular attendee at Society functions in Town and is known to be a great favorite with the young ladies.

Given the underlying urgency of your letter and my respect for the Langton family, however, I took a trip to White’s today so that I might make a few discreet inquiries. The following information was extracted from a conversation with a well-respected member of the House of Lords whose country estate lies within ten miles of Mr. Sellers’s home in Norfolk.

Mr. Nigel Sellers is the only son of the late Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Sellers. His two sisters, both older than he, are married and live in Yorkshire and Northumberland, respectively. Since his parents’ passing, most of the land associated with his estate has been sold, and the household staff has been cut to a minimum. He rarely makes an appearance there, preferring to stay in rented rooms in London even after the Season is over.

All indications are that the house in Norfolk is in dire need of repair, but Mr. Sellers appears to be in no hurry to attend to it. With his landholdings seemingly unprofitable, his source of revenue remains a mystery. He regularly places large wagers at White’s, but if he is doing so as a means of increasing his income, he has been sadly disappointed. It seems that he has lost far more than he has gained.

I believe each of these claims can be corroborated. The details are scant, but I hope they are sufficient to be of assistance to you.

I send my best wishes to you and the Duchess of Kelbrook.

Yours sincerely,

Bloxley

Sebastian raised his head and released a long breath. So, Mr. Sellers was lacking in funds. His pursuit of Rosalind made perfect sense. Not only was she a beautiful, highly intelligent, and lovely young lady, but she also came from a wealthy titled family. If Rosalind’s dowry had been the gentleman’s primary objective, however, surely he would have shifted his attention to another young lady of means upon Rosalind’s marriage to someone else.

It was entirely possible that Mr. Sellers truly had feelings for Rosalind, but if that was so, why would he torture himself by coming to see her when she was now outside his grasp?

Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair. An affair with the Duke of Kelbrook’s wife had all the makings of an opportunity for bribery. But the same instinct that had urged Sebastian to act upon Mr. Sellers’s letter told him that Rosalind was not languishing for a lost love.

If her nonplussed reaction upon receiving the letter was not indicator enough, then her response to Sebastian’s kisses surely was. He released another breath—this one far more unsteady than the first. If Rosalind was half as shaken by those kisses as he was . . . He allowed the thought to trail off and swallowed against his dry throat. No matter Rosalind’s emotional leanings, Sebastian would do all in his power to protect her from Mr. Sellers’s underlying intentions. He cared about her too much to do anything less.

* * *

The grass squelched beneath Rosalind’s feet as she walked across the lawn. For now, at least, the rain had stopped, leaving the world damp and clean. Deep puddles lined the paths that meandered through the rose garden, and water dripped from the tree branches. In the distance, above the river, a small patch of pale-blue sky appeared between the clouds, and without any real forethought, she headed that way.

The sound of rushing water reached her long before she saw the river, and by the time she passed through the kissing gate, it was obvious that days of rain had impacted the volume of water rushing along the riverbed. She moved closer to the bank. The high-water mark she’d noticed the last time she was here was now covered. Sticks, branches, and leaves swirled in the muddy river, some of the larger debris catching on the bridge piers as the water flowed downstream.

On the other side of the river, a man was bent over one of the shrubs that lined the bank. Rosalind watched as he used a small axe to slice a thick branch in two. Bending one piece of the branch back, he wove it between the other branches to fill a hole in the hedgerow. As soon as he was satisfied, he moved a little to his left and repeated the process on the next bush. She studied the hedgerow more carefully, noting that the gaps between the shrubs that were so prominent to the man’s left were missing to his right. Not only must he have been working for some time, but his skill was undeniable.