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When they arrived at the Mitchelson ball, the duke escorted his mother up the stairs while she and Marianne followed. When she was announced, everyone turned towards her. Suddenly, her breath left her lungs.

“Smile,” the duke said. “It will show that you are above the gossip.”

Above the gossip? What did that mean? She plastered a smile on her face and ascended the stairs, where they were met by the hosts.

“Lady Rose, we were so saddened to hear of your father’s passing,” Lord Mitchelson said as he bowed in front of her.

“Thank you for the invitation,” she replied.

“Our pleasure, of course.” He then went on to greet the next lot of guests.

“Your Grace, what did you mean by the gossip? What are they saying about me?”

“It is nothing, I assure you.”

“Then tell me. I have a right to know.”

He looked down at her. “They wonder if you are cut from the same cloth as your brother.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Do not fear. The dowager will have things settled by the end of the night. She is a master at all things gossip.”

The dowager nodded and smiled in agreement.

“I wish they would judge me on my own merits rather than those of my brother.”

He passed her some lemonade. “There is a difference between gossip and fact. Most are able to discern the difference. Give it time.”

“Warrington is right,” Marianne said as she followed their mother to the side of the room. “It will die down when there is no further gossip to feed the rumors.” She indicated for Rose to stand by the duke. “We always head to the side of the ballroom that contains doors. Thankfully, there are three sets of French doors on this side of the room, which means we will not overheat in the crowded room.”

Rose played with the dance card hanging from her wrist. “I feel as if I will incinerate just from the heat of everyone’s stares.”

Marianne smiled. “You will get used to it. My advice is to let Edward decide your dance partners. He knows who to avoid, and they will look to him for permission.”

“Why? Can I not choose my own dance partners?”

“Of course you can, but you do not know many of the men here.”

“You do. Can you not advise me?”

Marianne looked up at her brother, who was busy scanning the crowd, but who she knew was hearing every word they spoke. “I can, but if you are approached while I am dancing, I will be of little use. Edward dances rarely, usually only with me.”

Rose turned to the duke. “Do you not wish to find yourself a wife, Your Grace?”

There was surprise in his eyes when he turned them towards her. “A wife?”

“You are still young, and with your title I am wondering how you are not inundated with available debutantes.”

“I am not interested in marrying again. Charles is my heir and he has thankfully provided the family with two sons. I do not need to torture myself with such endeavors.”

“From what I understand, Charles would be very grateful if you would take that honor away from him,” Rose said.

“Alas, duty dictates how the succession runs.”

“But, if he does not want the title, then that duty falls to you, does it not?”

“Lady Rose, I am a duke. I decide whether or not I will marry again. If I choose not to, that is my prerogative. Do not be troubled. I do my duty to my family and my title in every way that counts.”