A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes Page 0,89
tea. “You were the son spared the weight of the titleholder’s worst stratagems. Papa believed that knowledge was power, and he acquired knowledge about the neighbors, his parliamentary foes, and his employees while appearing to keep himself aloof from one and all. I have had the leisure to read his diaries, and you would be appalled at the extent of his intelligence gathering.”
“You need not elaborate. A man who will have his own son declared dead is an affront to decency. Will you accompany me to call on Soames?”
The question was mostly rhetorical, and something of a courtesy. Robbie was the damned duke, whether the world knew him as such or not, and he was also best positioned to question a doctor who’d grown rich off polite society’s secrets.
“Nathaniel…” Robbie rose and strolled the walk, hands in his pockets. “I want to go with you. I want to ride about the moors as you do, I want to attend the assemblies if only to stand around swilling bad punch and speaking too loudly to the dowagers. I want…”
He wanted a normal life, as did Nathaniel. “You are making progress, Robbie. You walked down to the river for six months without a mishap.”
Robbie slanted a glance at Nathaniel over his shoulder. “Then I had a spectacular mishap, one might even say a near disaster. If Lady Althea hadn’t happened along…”
“The staff would have eventually said something.” Nathaniel hoped they would. He’d been ready to sack the lot of them for their torn loyalties, though.
“Eventually? Just as you eventually found me among Soames’s collection of cast-off heirs and genteel oddities? What if you’d shrugged at the stray invoice from a remote establishment out on the moors, Nathaniel? What if, like Treegum, you had assumed Papa simply supported a charity and you decided you’d keep up the tradition?”
“What if you’d never fallen from your horse?” Nathaniel hadn’t posed the question aloud before, but both he and Robbie had doubtless wondered the same thing.
“I’m quits with the jaunts to the river,” Robbie said, resuming his place on the bench. “Interesting experiment, but it did not end well.”
A month ago, even a few days ago, Nathaniel would have agreed. He’d seen Althea Wentworth march away, though, never to return, and something or somebody at Rothhaven Hall needed to change.
“You appear to be hale and whole. While I grant you that wandering alone near water was a risk, anybody can turn an ankle when enjoying the countryside. Next time take a cane and don’t go so close to the water. Lady Althea owns the land, and she will see to it that you can wander in solitude.”
Robbie dumped the remainder of his tea into the crushed shells of the walkway. “I think not. I’ve begun reading the correspondence, Nathaniel. You go through it, make notes for Treegum, then set it aside. I can’t step into your shoes, but I can try to lighten your load or at least remain informed. I’m not spying on you.”
“We live in each other’s pockets, Robbie. If you’d like to take over the correspondence, please do. I bloody hate it.” Most of all, Nathaniel hated the regular reports to their mother, though another report was in order.
“You’ve been pre-occupied these past two days, so while you were seeing Lady Althea home, I went through the mail on your desk.”
Nathaniel’s pleasure at Robbie’s initiative was tempered by experience. Robbie was bored, and correspondence would soon lose its novelty. Three months from now, this interest in estate business might well fade or be supplemented by some other “experiment.”
“Did you find anything requiring a ducal signature?”
“I can match your signature easily, but no. I did, though, find another threatening note.”
“Splendid.” How could such a pretty morning hold so much disappointment and botheration? “Immediately after breakfast, I’m off to interview Soames.” Come with me. Nathaniel had already asked, he would not ask again.
“Let me know what you find.” Robbie shook the last drops from his empty mug and headed back to the terrace. He paused on the steps. “I know you deserve more from me, Nathaniel. I don’t know if I’m capable of more.”
He continued into the house without giving Nathaniel a chance to reply.
“I have had the most extraordinary week.” Phoebe made that announcement before Elspeth Weatherby could launch into a recounting of the same gossip Elspeth had shared last week.
And the week before.
Elspeth was not the brightest soul, nor was she welcome in exalted circles—her father had been a mere baron—but she did