Emma looked down at a portrait of a British army officer. The background was smoky and indistinct, the uniform unrelieved by gleaming brass or bright ribbons. Slender and fine-featured, light-haired and sporting a pencil-thin mustache, the man bore a striking resemblance to the duke, save for the great sadness in his eyes. In his right hand he gripped a riding crop, but his left sleeve was folded back on itself and pinned at the shoulder.
“My father.” The duke sat with his face turned toward the fire, and his animated hands lay becalmed on the arms of his chair. “The thirteenth duke of Penford was an unhappy man. I leave it to you to decide if it was due to his unfortunate place in the succession, but I’m rather more inclined to blame it on his unfortunate place in history.
“He lost his own father and all of his uncles in the Great War. He lost his first wife in a daylight raid on the Plymouth dockyards, his arm in the Ardennes, and his second wife, my mother, shortly after I was born.” He glanced at Derek, then lowered his eyes. “To pneumonia. Not even a healthy son and heir could put paid to all of those losses, and he became something of a recluse.”
Derek stirred restlessly. “Look, Grayson, I’m very sorry, but—”
“Patience, dear boy,” said the duke.
Nanny Cole glared at Derek. “It’s your fault we’ve been dragged out of our beds in the middle of the night, so you just keep still or I’ll box your bloody ears.”
Chastened, Derek fell silent.
“My father,” the duke continued, “left much of my upbringing to my grandmother, who saw to it that I was educated at home by a governess who has since passed on. My grandmother was a wonderful woman in many ways, but she was ... selectively attentive. If I was neatly dressed and well behaved, she would spend hours with me. When I was bad-tempered—”
“Never had a bad-tempered day in your life,” Nanny Cole stated firmly, and the others murmured their agreement.
“Let us say, then, that I was, at times, overly energetic,” the duke conceded.
“Bouncing off the walls, more like,” muttered Gash.
“At such times,” the duke continued doggedly, “which occurred far too often in my grandmother’s estimation, I was banished from her presence.”
“And dumped in our laps,” huffed Nanny Cole.
“Not that we minded,” Gash put in.
“Didn’t say we minded, did I?” retorted Nanny Cole.
“As a result,” Grayson went on, “I spent most of my formative years under the watchful eyes of Nanny Cole and the rest of the staff. I adored my grandmother, but these good people ...” He let his gaze travel slowly around the room. “These good people, I loved.”
“Mawkish nonsense,” muttered Nanny Cole. “Get a grip, Grayson, or you’ll have Kate blubbering.”
“Mother,” said an obviously exasperated Kate, “will you please allow Grayson to speak?”
“Never been able to stop him, have I?” Nanny Cole scowled at her daughter, but remained silent as Grayson continued.
“My father’s decision to withdraw from the world had a catastrophic effect on both the hall and the village. New tax laws encouraged him to dabble in speculation, but he’d neither the skill nor the patience to succeed at that game. He was forced to sell our land in Kent and Somerset, and to dismiss the underservants, all of whom came from Penford Harbor. When they sought employment elsewhere, their houses were left vacant and the village began a slow and painful decline.
“As for the hall ... Well, I’m sure you’ve heard the story many times before, Derek. Routine repairs were neglected, and the place began to fall apart. My father closed off room after room, until we were all living cheek by jowl in the central block.”
“It were a bad time,” Gash murmured, and the others nodded solemnly.
“I’d no idea how bad,” Grayson commented. “The staff shielded me from every hardship and made it seem like jolly good fun to be bunched together like that. After my grandmother died, however, Father dismissed the staff and began selling off the contents of Penford Hall.”
“Was he allowed to do that?” Emma asked, with a timid glance at Nanny Cole.
“He wasn’t, actually,” replied the duke. “The hall and all that it contained were entailed to me and should’ve been handed down intact. But with Grandmother gone, there was no one to stop him.” The duke’s gaze roved over the walls, taking in every painting, every priceless ornament, while his hands caressed the rich fabric on the arms of his chair, as though reassuring himself that it was real. “I’m so proud of Grandmother for hiding her emeralds,” he said softly.
From the comer of her eye, Emma saw Nanny Cole raise her eyes to Kate, who looked quickly away.