Page 65 of An Unfamiliar Duke

The ladies gasped with delight; their husbands offered murmured words of approval. Rosalind did not look to see what Mr. Sellers’s reaction might be. She simply held Sebastian’s hand a little tighter.

* * *

Sebastian stood in the entrance hall, watching Vickers return hats, gloves, and coats to their guests. A few more minutes. That was all he need endure before Mr. Sellers was off his property. He considered it a major accomplishment that he had maintained relatively civil conversation with the gentleman for going on an hour. Repeatedly having to break up his attempted tête-à-têtes with Rosalind had been infuriating. The final one in the ballroom had almost brought an end to Sebastian’s self-imposed courtesy. If it hadn’t been for Rosalind . . . His heart lifted. Did she have any idea how much the feel of her hand in his had meant to him?

He looked at her. She was saying something to Mrs. Abernathy and Mrs. Fairfield. The two ladies responded with smiles, quite obviously fully taken with the new Duchess of Kelbrook. How could they not be? Rosalind was the perfect hostess.

“It was very nice to see you again, Your Grace,” Mr. Fairfield said. “Be sure to send word if you have any interest in joining this year’s hunt.”

“I will, sir,” Sebastian said.

“Very good.” He moved to take his wife’s arm. “I believe we are ready, Nigel.”

Sellers stepped forward from the other side of the wide hall. Why he had chosen to wait beside the entrance to the east wing, Sebastian could not tell, but Sebastian had been more than happy to see him remain some distance from Rosalind.

“Good day, Your Grace.” Sellers inclined his head but did not meet Sebastian’s eyes.

“And to you,” Sebastian replied.

Sellers repeated the gesture with Rosalind before following the Fairfields and Abernathys out of the house.

Vickers closed the door behind them, and Sebastian released a sigh of relief. Somewhat to his surprise, he was not the only one. With a moan, Rosalind leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

“Vickers, please tell me the Fairfields’ carriage and the Abernathys’ pony cart are well on their way up the drive,” she said.

The obedient butler moved to the window and peered outside. “They are, Your Grace.”

“Thank goodness.” She opened her eyes and looked directly at Sebastian. “If today’s entertaining was any indication of what is to come, I respectfully request a spot on one of the armchairs in your workshop so that I may be unavailable whenever you are.”

He grinned. “That is the best suggestion I have heard in a long time.”

She pushed herself off the wall and crossed the short distance between them. “Is that a yes?” she asked, coming to stand in front of him.

“Most definitely,” he said. He was unprepared for the unqualified delight in her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. But I thought you enjoyed having visitors and attending social functions.”

“I do. Most of the time.” She looked back at the closed door. “But sometimes, it can be a bit much.”

That was describing today’s interactions somewhat mildly, but he was happy to agree. “Yes, it can.”

“Pardon me, Your Grace.” Vickers was still standing at the window. “It appears that a vehicle is approaching the house . . . and it seems to be moving rather rapidly.”

Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair. Dash it all! If the Abernathys or Fairfields were returning, he would take Rosalind to the workshop right now. “Can you tell who it is?”

“No, Your Grace. It appears to be a cart and horse, and the driver is dressed in the clothing of a laborer.”

Sebastian frowned and walked over to one of the other windows in time to see the cart arrive in front of the house with a clatter of hooves and a spray of gravel. A middle-aged man jumped off the driver’s seat and hurried up the stairs leading to the door. Moments later, a knock sounded.

Moving to stand beside Rosalind again, Sebastian waited for Vickers to answer the door.

“Is the master about?” The man was breathless.

“Your name?” Vickers said.

“Greenwald. Bill Greenwald.”