“Very fair,” his mother repeated. “Please do wax poetic.”
He shrugged. “I promise you, I shall do my best with all your prospects, Mama. I accept the path I am set upon. I have no intention of shirking.”
His mother’s brow knitted and it was clear she wished to address the subject more, but before she could, his butler, Walker, stepped into the hall behind her. “Pardon me, Your Graces, but your first guests have arrived.”
Baldwin nodded. “Ewan and Charlotte?” he inquired.
“No, sir. It is the Duke of Kingsacre and the Earl of Idlewood. I’ve shown them to the veranda.”
Baldwin sucked in a breath. “Kit and his father?”
The earl, Christopher, who everyone called Kit, had been one of Baldwin’s friends since they were boys. He was a member of the duke club, though he was the only one who had not yet inherited his ultimate title. Not that anyone mourned that fact. The current Duke of Kingsacre was a wonderful man.
“We’ll go to greet them, Walker,” Baldwin’s mother said with a smile. “Show the rest out as they come, will you?”
The butler bowed away and Baldwin sighed heavily. “Kingsacre’s health is declining. Kit has him in town to see a new round of doctors. I’m glad they could both come.”
She nodded. “Matthew’s mother and I were just discussing it. It is very sad to see such a vibrant man begin to fail. Come, let us go greet them before the rest arrive.”
They walked to the veranda together, and as they exited the house, Baldwin was shocked. Kit and his father stood at the wall together, but he would not have recognized the duke had he not known it was him. The once strapping, handsome man was now thin as a reed, he held a cane that he leaned heavily upon and his skin was sallow.
“Kit, Your Grace,” Baldwin managed to choke out. “So glad you could join us.”
The two men turned and began to call out their greetings. It was all friendly enough, but Baldwin recognized the strain in Kit’s eyes. He loved his father deeply, this slow loss of him was taking its toll, that was clear. Baldwin squeezed his hand a bit more firmly as they shook, and Kit gave him a look of appreciation.
“So fine to be in your home again,” Kingsacre said. “I always said you had the best garden in Town.”
Baldwin’s mother blushed to the roots of her hair and he couldn’t help but smile. She had always been very proud of their London garden and continued to oversee its tending even though she no longer lived in the ducal home in Town. At least for the time being. As things got worse, it was possible they’d have to sell her small townhouse.
Kit tilted his head as he looked at Baldwin, then shot his father a look. “Your Grace, would you mind helping me identify what that wonderful-smelling vine is over your trellis just there?” He held out an elbow to the duchess as he spoke.
She nodded and the two walked off, leaving Baldwin with the Duke of Kingsacre.
“Not very subtle, my Kit,” the duke laughed.
“I assume that means you wished to talk with me alone?” Baldwin replied, motioning to two chairs beside the wall overlooking the garden.
They sat, and Kingsacre took a deep breath before he spoke again. “My son is worried about you. He says you won’t talk to him, but I hoped you might talk to me.”
Baldwin shifted and shot a glance toward Kit. “He is wrong to be worried. I could not be more fine.”
Kingsacre arched a brow, and even in his fragile state, he did not look like a man one should lie to. Still, his voice was gentle as he said, “I used to see your father, you know. In the hells.”
Baldwin broke their stare, looking instead at the greenery below. “Well, many a man likes to game.”
“Is that all it was?” Kingsacre asked.
Baldwin swallowed. Once again, he wished he could just spill out the humiliating truth to someone, anyone, and have some support. But there was his pride, reminding him that it wasn’t only his father’s sins he would spill, but his own. He’d always liked this man—he didn’t want to be seen differently by him. Nor to have his tale spread amongst all his friends and become a charity case.
“It is nice to see you back in Town,” he said, glancing back to the duke with a meaningful look. “Will you stay the whole Season?”
Kingsacre nodded slowly, as if he understood. Then he said, “I shall try, for I believe it will be my last.”
Baldwin jolted. “Don’t say that.”
Kingsacre’s expression softened. “I’m an old man, my boy. And a sick one. I have no illusions of where my path is taking me. My son and his friends may not wish to face it, but I am ready to.”
Baldwin’s throat suddenly felt thick. He knew what it was to lose a father. To many of his friends, this man was as close as they had. To Kit, all that he had.
“And what of your daughter?” he asked softly.
Now Kingsacre’s face turned sad. “Juliet is just four. She has no understanding of what is coming. But her brother will care for her well, I know. She will want for nothing.”
“Is she in Town, as well?” Baldwin asked.
“I keep her as close as I can these days. When one has love, one should appreciate every moment of it.”
Baldwin shifted. Love. That seemed to be a topic in the air as of late. His friends were finding it, encouraging him to look for it. And here he was, on the outside looking in.
“Baldwin,” Kingsacre began, but before he could say more, the doors to the house opened and Walker appeared with several of their guests in tow.
Baldwin rose. “I must see to my guests, it seems.”
Kingsacre nodded, but his gaze held firmly on Baldwin’s. “You must, I know. But I hope we will talk again soon.”
Baldwin executed a swift bow before he turned back to fetch his mother and greet their guests. But as he walked away he felt an increasing sense of ill ease. A feeling he would have to extinguish if he intended on fulfilling the duty that was the only path left for him.
The carriage was too small. Actually, that wasn’t true. The carriage was massive, a display of ostentatious wealth that made color flood Helena’s cheeks whenever Uncle Peter bragged about it to appalled lords and ladies. But today, with her uncle and cousin sitting across from her, going over their plans and goals, it felt utterly close and hot and uncomfortable.
“Twenty-seventh in line for the crown,” Charity said, clasping her hands. “Just think, Helena, you could lady’s maid to the Queen someday.”
Helena shook off her thoughts and looked at her cousin. “If the King and twenty-six other people happen to all die at once.”
“It could happen,” Charity said with a glare at Helena’s comment. “What has you so cross anyway?”
“I’m not cross,” Helena said.