and I’d like to not do it again.”
I brace for William to tense, but he only knits his brows, as if in confusion.
“I saw their engagement announcement in your mother’s room. I can understand why August is so hurt by her leaving, especially when they had a child.”
His brows only knit more. Then I jump as he gives a short laugh. “Cordelia is not Edmund’s mother.”
My cheeks heat. “Ah, so he was born, as they say in your time, on the wrong side of the sheets. August’s child that Cordelia took on to raise as their own.” I pause. “Or is he adopted?”
As I talk, William waves one hand, clearly telling me that he can explain. I’m too caught up in the puzzle.
“August was engaged to my sister,” William says. “He did not marry her. She left before the wedding. Edmund’s mother—and August’s wife—is another woman entirely. Rosalind.”
“But August said you’re his son’s uncle . . . Ah, that’s an honorific.”
“It is. I’m the boy’s godfather. There was no marriage between our families.”
“I’m sorry.”
I catch the look on William’s face and say, “Or, perhaps not. You weren’t thrilled with the prospect of your dearest friend as your brother-in-law?”
William settles onto his side, pulling me against him. “August would have made a fine brother-in-law. A fine husband for my sister, though? Let’s just say I was not in favor of the match. He was far too fond of the ladies, and they were too fond of him. Even my fiancé used to make eyes at him when she thought no one was looking.”
“Ouch.”
He shrugs. “With August around, one became quite accustomed to not being the center of female attention. He swore that he would be a faithful husband, and he was when he finally did marry though I’m not certain the same would have applied with Cordelia. That was marriage for duty. Rosalind was love.”
“Two women have left him?”
William makes a face, and it reminds me of the one he made at breakfast when August snapped about his wife’s abandonment.
“Rosalind did not leave,” he says, “though please don’t say that to August. He is the most good-natured of men . . . but that is the one topic certain to ignite his temper. I have spent two years trying to convince him Rosalind would never abandon him and Edmund. He will hear none of it. I fear if I continue to pursue the subject, it will prove the breaking point for a friendship I thought unbreakable.”
“I’m sorry,” I say and kiss his lips. “That’s not fair. He must have loved her very much, though.”
“Too much if such a thing is possible.”
“What happened?”
He flips onto his back and sighs.
“You don’t need to tell—” I begin, but he pulls me onto him and says, “That sigh is grief for my friend and for his wife, not annoyance at telling the tale. August is the son of a . Third son. The family has a summer home near York that makes Thorne Manor look like servant’s quarters. Rosalind adored it. She loved to walk, and she loved to ride, and the moors gave her plenty of opportunity for both.”
“A young woman who loved the moors and horses? I’m surprised you didn’t marry her yourself.”
A look passes behind his eyes, and I stiffen, then force it back with a soft, “I’m sorry. She chose August, I presume.”
“What?” He blinks at me, startled. Then a short laugh. “No, not at all. I enjoyed Rosalind’s companionship, but she was not to my tastes otherwise. In another life, she’d have been my younger sister, instead of—”
He clears his throat. “No, there was nothing between us. If I looked uncomfortable at your jest, it’s because August . . . When I say he loved her too much, what I really mean is he was unhealthily jealous of her love. He spent his youth changing women as often as he changes clothing. But then he met the girl he truly wanted, and he could not believe every man didn’t want her. Worse, he could not quite believe she wanted him.”
“Ah. That’s . . .” I connect his explanation to his pained expression earlier. “He was even jealous of you?”
“Yes. For absolutely no reason, let me assure you. Not only did I never harbor such feelings for Rosalind, she never had eyes for anyone but August. So back to my tale. They were at the family estate for the summer. One night, after they’d gone to bed, she rode out. She