The Duke's Last Hunt by Rosanne E. Lortz

torture in more ways than one. But he would wait it out—if he was to influence Miss Malcolm where his brother was concerned, he would have to improve her own opinion of him first.
    * * *
    Eliza had never experienced sitting beside a suitor in church. Reverend Ansel was waxing eloquent about the various proofs for the existence of God, but it felt like nothing more than a wave of words washing over her ears. Rufus’ knee was touching hers in the pew, and at one point he nearly buried his nose in her ear whispering that no one could concentrate on divine services when a creature so divine was sitting next to him. Her whole face was tingling at the impropriety.
    When the service concluded, Rufus took her hand and placed it snuggly in the crook of his arm. The Duchess of Brockenhurst led the way down the aisle, greeting the stares of the villagers with polite nods of recognition. Sir Arthur, Lady Malcolm, and the rest of the Rowland party followed.
    Eliza noticed that Rufus refrained from the friendly civility that his mother showed to the other congregants. Perhaps he was not as familiar with his tenants or the villagers—although he had been lord of the manor for three or four years now, and one would expect him to know a few faces at least.
    As they moved towards the doors, she saw an old man in the back corner struggling to stand and a younger man—dressed like a gentleman—helping him rise. She looked more closely; the man’s brown eyes met hers—Henry Rowland! She thought he had left Harrowhaven for good! And what about his protest that he did not like Reverend Ansel’s sermons? Her brows knit together as Rufus’ momentum carried her outside into the churchyard.
    Reverend Ansel was there, greeting his parishioners as they filed out. The dowager duchess had given him her hand, and Eliza was just in time to hear Adele remark, “A very intellectual sermon, Reverend.”
    “Hopefully not too intellectual for you,” said the Reverend. A smile played on the corner of his mouth.
    “Not at all,” said Adele, “although I do wonder if my brother was able to follow it all.” She cast a pointed look at Rufus, bringing him to the Reverend’s attention.
    “Ah, Lord Brockenhurst,” said Reverend Ansel, disengaging himself from the dowager duchess to speak to the duke. “It is good to see you here on a Sunday. And while I have your ear, I have not heard from you recently on that other matter….”
    “I’m not sure what matter you’re referring to,” said Rufus. Eliza could feel his forearm clenching with irritation.
    “About setting aside a portion of the woods near the church building for the common use.”
    “The answer remains the same as the last time you asked,” said the duke stiffly. “I will not have trespassers in my forest.”
    Eliza felt a little dismayed at the duke’s curt refusal. The churchman seemed genial and the request seemed reasonable—but perhaps it was some matter in which he was trying to take advantage of the duke. She would not judge on a matter she knew nothing about.
    As Rufus began to steer Eliza and her parents out of the receiving line, she saw Reverend Ansel’s face light up with real excitement.
    “Walter, my boy!”
    Mr. Turold had just exited the church. A strange sight followed as the large churchman enveloped the long-haired gentleman in a hug.
    Rufus seemed as surprised as Eliza was. He cast a curious glance at his friend and halted momentarily to overhear the exchange.
    “You must dine with us while you are here,” said Reverend Ansel.
    “Of course.” Mr. Turold pressed the clergyman’s large hand with what seemed genuine affection. “Give my regards to Miss Ansel.”
    “Give them to her yourself. Supper at five tomorrow!”
    Mr. Turold nodded in agreement, and as he turned back to their party, Rufus pulled Eliza forward and began asking how she liked the silhouette of the church roof against the forest backdrop.
    Eliza made a polite response but noticed that,