13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

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A lex's heart clenched as he watched Rosalind flee the exhibition, her face a mask of distress and confusion. It wasn't difficult to imagine what had upset her. Alex couldn't help but mentally flog himself for not trusting her enough to warn her in advance. She had done nothing to make him believe that she would not continue to exercise the same fierce loyalty she had demonstrated, and now they were both paying the price.

Excusing himself from a conversation with a group of noblemen, Alex followed Rosalind's path out of the room, his steps quick and determined. He watched with some alarm as she stepped out into the night alone, with neither escort nor shawl.

He lost her for a moment in the gardens, his apprehension growing, worried that he had lost her. He rounded a bend, and there she was, beneath the gentle sway of a willow tree, gripping the back of a stone bench as if it were the only thing anchoring her to shore. The moonlight cast a soft glow upon her features, illuminating the tears that glistened on her cheeks, but her jaw was determinedly set. She looked up sharply at the sound of his boots on the paving stones, her eyes probing the darkness.

"Rosalind," he called out softly, his voice tinged with concern. "It's only me."

She visibly relaxed, her shoulders sagging as she recognised his familiar form. Alex closed the distance between them, his gaze locked on her tear-stained face. She returned his gaze for a moment, a surprisingly vulnerable softness on her face. Her expression changed suddenly, and she reached up and swiped angrily at her eyes with her palm.

"I detest crying," she muttered, "especially in front of people."

"I beg your pardon, but surely I am not 'people'," he said, attempting levity. She responded with a watery, strangled laugh that tugged at his heart. "Rosalind," he said, softening. "Please, talk to me. Let me help you."

"I'm sorry," Rosalind whispered, her voice trembling. "I know that this is Isabella's night, but I couldn't bear to stay in there any longer, with all of...them." She gestured contemptuously back in the direction of the house. "The way they talk, it was just–it was too much."

Alex remained silent, unsure of how to comfort her. This was an unforeseen consequence of his plan: He'd only wanted to clear his own name, to turn the ton's attention to something else. It had never occurred to him that he might drag Rosalind down with him.

Rosalind turned to face him, her eyes searching his for the truth she so clearly needed. "Alex, I... I don't know what to believe anymore. The rumours, the whispers... It's a lot to bear. This isn't what I had imagined when I..." She trailed off, looking down and then away, her hands holding tightly to the bench again as if she wanted a shield between them.

"When you made your bold proposal?" he finished for her. With her face still turned away, she nodded.

Slowly, giving her every opportunity to move away, Alex carefully stepped closer. He took one of her gloved hands in his, lifting it from the bench. Alex's heart constricted as he watched Rosalind's face as she clearly waged some sort of internal debate. Her eyes, once filled with warmth and affection, were now muddied with doubt and suspicion. Rosalind stared straight into his eyes, silently demanding answers he couldn't fully provide.

"Rosalind, please," Alex implored, his voice strained with desperation. "You must believe me when I say that these rumours are baseless. I would never betray your trust or our understanding."

Rosalind's lips trembled, her words laced with a bitter edge. "How can I believe you, Alex, when the evidence seems to mount against you? The whispers, the knowing glances... They all point to a truth I cannot ignore." Wordlessly, her hand slipped from his, the silk whispering between his fingers. He could feel her emotionally pulling away as well, and for the first time, he had a real sense of what that meant.

There was little doubt in his mind that once her affections were decided, Rosalind was the sort of woman who would love fully and without reservation. He had already glimpsed her fierce loyalty, and it was clear that if her trust were to ever be betrayed, it would be nigh impossible to regain.

Alex stepped forward, his hand reaching out to bridge the growing chasm between them, his fingers curling around her wrist. "I am a man of honour, Rosalind. My word is my bond. If I could explain the nature of these meetings, I would, but I am bound by a duty that goes beyond myself."

Rosalind flinched away from his touch, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as if to shield her heart from further pain. "Duty?" she scoffed, her voice raw with emotion. "Is that what you call sneaking around while all of London watches, attending clandestine meetings with unknown women?"

The accusation stung, piercing Alex's heart like a dagger. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts and tempering his own rising frustration. "Rosalind, I have never been anything but truthful with you. These meetings, while secretive, are not what you think. They are matters of family honour, of protecting those I hold dear."

Rosalind's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Family honour? What of the honour of the woman you've pledged yourself to? What of the trust we've built, the understanding we've forged? What of my reputation–have you any idea of the damage you are doing to me, to my own prospects?"

Alex's heart ached at the pain in her words, the realisation that his actions, though well-intentioned, had inadvertently wounded the woman he had grown to care for so deeply. "Rosalind, I..." he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the right words to attempt to smooth over the cracks that were appearing between them.

But Rosalind held up a hand, silencing him. "No, Alex. I cannot bear any more excuses or half-truths. If we are to proceed with this–this attachment, then you must be honest with me. Fully and completely. Surely I deserve nothing less."

Alex hesitated, caught between his own desires and his duty, balanced on a knife-point. He knew that he could not reveal the full extent of his investigations, the delicate balance of power and politics that hung in the balance. He also knew that he could not bear to lose Rosalind, to see the light in her eyes extinguished by doubt and mistrust.

"Rosalind," he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "I am bound by oaths and obligations that I cannot break, but I swear to you, on my honour as a gentleman, that I have never betrayed your trust. These meetings, though shrouded in secrecy, are not what the rumours suggest."

Rosalind's gaze searched his, her eyes filled with a desperate need for reassurance, for a glimmer of the trust that had once flowed so easily between them. "Then tell me, Alex. Give me something to hold onto, a reason to believe in you despite the whispers and the doubts."

The weight of his responsibilities warred with the yearning in his heart. He knew that he could not reveal the full truth, but he also knew that he could not let Rosalind slip away, lost to the shadows of misunderstanding and mistrust.

"The meetings," he began, his voice low and earnest, "are related to a matter of great importance to my family. A matter that, if brought to light, could have grave consequences for those I hold dear. I cannot divulge more, but I ask you to trust in the man you've come to know. As one who takes the well-being and happiness of your sister so seriously, I am sure that you can understand the importance of loyalty to family."

Rosalind's expression softened, a flicker of understanding dawning in her eyes. "Alex, I..." she whispered, her voice trailing off as she grappled with the conflicting emotions that swirled within her.

Alex closed the distance between them, his hands gently cradling her face as he looked deep into her eyes, greatly daring. Rosalind leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed as a single tear escaped down her cheek. "I want to trust you, Alex, I truly do, but the doubts, the fears... This is uncharted territory for me, and I don't know where to turn for safe harbour."

The depth of her vulnerability touched Alex in a way that he had never experienced before. Though still clouded by suspicion, he had glimpsed Rosalind's heart, and it was a beautiful, golden thing. She had not pulled away from him, and the feeling of her porcelain face in his hands was worth all of the hardship they had endured through the evening.

Suddenly, the sound of the garden gate clanging open echoed across the garden. He heard approaching voices, the distant chatter growing louder with each passing second. He knew that they couldn't be found like this, alone and unchaperoned in a dark garden at night. The scandal that would ensue, the damage to Rosalind's reputation, was a risk he couldn't bear to take.

With a heavy heart, Alex pulled away from Rosalind, his hands dropping from her face as he took a step back. Rosalind glanced behind him, a flicker of understanding mingled with frustration in her eyes. She smoothed her gown and patted her hair, composing herself as best she could, even as the turmoil of their unfinished conversation lingered in the air between them.

"There's a door on the west side of the house," Alex whispered urgently. "You can slip inside that way, and no one will see you. I'll stay here and ensure you aren't discovered."

"We will continue this discussion later," she said tenderly, a slight crack in her voice the only sign of the turmoil within her. "I need answers, Alex. I need to know that I can trust you, fully and completely."

"I promise you, Rosalind," he said, his voice low and fervent. "We will find a way to talk, to lay bare the truth between us, but for now, we must play our parts, maintain the illusion of propriety."

With a final, lingering glance, Alex turned and strode away, his footsteps echoing on the smooth stones as he emerged from the shadows. He forced a smile onto his face, greeting the passing guests with a nod and a charming word, even as his heart ached with the weight of the unresolved conflict with Rosalind. He hated that she was venturing alone back into the proverbial lions' den, hated that she had been dragged into the muck that was being thrown at him. Whatever his motivations had been before, his sense of duty and his concern for his brother, the weight of his duty to Rosalind began to weigh just as heavily on his conscience.

Carefully, deliberately, they avoided each other for the rest of the evening. Rosalind remained in the company of her sisters, who had formed a sort of protective barrier around her. Though he had initially dismissed the other Harrington sisters as weaker than Rosalind, with the way that they effortlessly shielded Rosalind from the rest of the ton, Alex would not want to be the one to attempt to penetrate such formidable defences. Only once did their eyes meet across the room, and Rosalind's gaze was full of unresolved turmoil.