A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes Page 0,123
who he was, and promptly went into strong hysterics.”
“Oh, dear.” Another hint of a smile. “How did Robert deal with that?”
“He was dismayed, I suppose, while Sarah was overjoyed. Lazarus risen from the dead did not meet with more sincere jubilation, and she assumed Robert had only recently rejoined the household at the Hall.”
Althea took up a length of blue silk ribbon, then passed it to him and turned on the vanity stool to once again present Nathaniel with her back. “Why did she assume that?”
“Because it makes sense.” He gathered Althea’s hair into one thick skein. “Am I supposed to braid all of this?”
“Loosely. Sarah assumed that if you’d known Robert was alive, you would not have taken his place as duke. So where does she think Robert has been for the past five years?”
“She assumed he was enjoying a quiet, isolated existence unaware that he was needed at the family seat.” He divided Althea’s hair into three sections and began the braiding.
“We told her the truth,” he went on, “but the crux of the matter becomes the death certificate and the old duke’s deception. Fortunately, the doctor housing Robert for all those years has recently signed an affidavit attesting to the fact that the ducal heir was well known to him and was very much alive at the time of the funeral, though afflicted with a mild case of the falling sickness. Very fortunately, we are still within the seven years when missing heirs can come forward.”
“But you knew Robert was alive for the past five years.”
“Therein lies the difficult part, the part that will require some creativity.”
Fine dark brows drew down. “You will claim Robert only recently came to live at the Hall?”
“We will be vague and allow others to draw that conclusion. For a time after Papa’s death, Robert did not know he’d been declared dead—that much is quite true—and I did not know my brother was alive—also true. The only element of discretion we will apply to the facts regards the timing of Robert’s return.”
“Discretion.” Althea remained silent while Nathaniel tied the ribbon at the bottom of her braid. “And what of the Crown? What becomes of the title?”
Nathaniel went down on one knee, the better to look Althea in the eye as they had this difficult discussion.
“The more secluded Robert’s life is, the more he’s at risk to be taken advantage of. You made me see that. You refused to allow Lady Phoebe to send you into exile, though that would have been the easier course. She would either reveal herself before the entire shire for the spiteful creature she is, or she’d learn to behave decently toward her neighbors.
“You called the tune,” Nathaniel said, taking Althea’s hand, “because you chose the battleground not of public opinion, but of simple decency. A duke who’s never seen, who eschews good society, has far more to fear from public opinion than a duke who goes about his business taking a few precautions to accommodate a quirk of his health.”
“And you think Robert can be that duke?” She brushed her hand over his lapel, smoothing the slight wrinkle where his boutonniere had been. “The duke whose mental and physical competence is regularly on display?”
“Not immediately, but he can strive toward that goal. He attended your ball, and that was a leap away from the role of the cowering invalid. He cannot return to the fiction of death. I won’t allow it.”
The compulsion to be more than Althea’s lady’s maid had been growing since she’d appeared in the doorway, a tired vision in bronze silk. This discussion was important, but Nathaniel was increasingly distracted by the sheer need to touch her.
“How does your brother know my sister?” Althea asked, drawing the pin from Nathaniel’s cravat. “Robert and Constance were having a conversation that was intended to look cordial, but I know my sister. She was clinging to her composure by a slender thread.”
Althea set aside the cravat pin and drew the signet ring from Nathaniel’s finger. She was undressing him, and that had to bode well for a former false duke on bended knee in a lady’s boudoir.
“At this moment, Althea, I am clinging to my composure by force of will alone. I have no idea how Constance and Robert might have met, but he has ever had private correspondence into which I do not pry. You want more than a neighborly connection with me, Althea, and I want more than that from you too. Much more.”