a commendatory letter about our support for the poor.”
“Did you send a copy to Canterbury?”
“I asked the bishop’s offices to do so. I thought it would have a greater effect coming from there.”
“And did it?”
“None at all,” said Randolph.
“One wouldn’t expect our chief prelate to be vindictive,” his father mused.
“I don’t think that’s it. More like…whenever I come to his attention, his mind shies away and moves to something else.”
“I see. Did you make progress reports? Listing all your successes?”
“No.” He’d given up at some point, Randolph realized. He’d liked his parish duties, and he didn’t really enjoy remembering the ram either.
“Or enlist friends in the church to sing your praises?”
“No.” He should have thought of that. Who could he have asked?
“You’re not really a politician, are you?” the duke asked with an understanding smile.
Humiliation hovered over Randolph again, suggesting his brothers would have done better in his situation. Well, no, Sebastian and Robert would have fallen down laughing at the ram. They wouldn’t have been able to stop themselves. James, too, probably. Alan would have been more interested in scientific observation of the phenomenon than in placating the archbishop. Randolph perked up. Nathaniel would have done better. He couldn’t deny that. But to come second to Nathaniel—not bad. “I did get a new appointment in Derbyshire. I’ve been wanting to move south, and I thought that was a sign of, er, redemption.”
“Perhaps it was. Does Miss Sinclair know about your new parish?”
Randolph nodded.
“I’m sure she’ll inform her father then. She looked like a young lady with arguments ready when they left.”
That was a cheering thought.
“Shall I make some inquiries about the archbishop?” asked his father.
“What sort of inquiries?”
“Discreet ones.”
“I haven’t quite gotten over the belief that you can fix anything,” Randolph observed.
“Untrue, I fear.”
Still, Randolph felt vastly better. Experience said that Papa could do a great deal. There was no more astute ally.
“Together, we can do much though.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
The duke stood. He rested a hand on Randolph’s shoulder. “You should get some sleep.”
“So should you.”
“We can all rest now.” And with that he went to say good night to his providentially well wife.
“What’s going on?” she asked when he entered her bedchamber.
“I’m not sure what you—”
“I know there’s something,” she interrupted. She made an uncharacteristically languid gesture. “I can feel it in the air.”
“You need to rest.”
“Tell me, and I will.”
Giving in, the duke recounted Mr. Sinclair’s visit.
“Not approve of Randolph?” she said when he was done. “The cheek!”
Outrage had brought some color back into her face, at least.
“I wonder if he’s told Verity about the ram?” she added.
“He said he hadn’t had time. He would have been wise to tell her.”
“Wise,” the duchess repeated thoughtfully. “Has he been wise? I’m not sure what to think about this match.”
“You had doubts about Nathaniel’s at first,” the duke pointed out.
“True. And then Violet…bloomed.”
“Like her namesake in the spring,” the duke replied with a smile. “You fretted over Robert, too.”
“He and Flora spent so much time sniping at each other.”
“As they still do. Though I wouldn’t call it sniping, precisely. Jousting, perhaps.”
“Why do they enjoy it so, I wonder?”
“There’s no accounting for tastes. You also questioned Alan’s choice, as I recall.”
“The very first of our sons to marry.” The duchess smiled. “How I could have thought Ariel an adventuress.”
“Or James’s Kawena a—”
“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” she said. “I worried about all of them. Needlessly, as it turned out.”
“I would never say that. But it seems we can trust our sons to find their way to happiness.”
“None of the others suffered a disappointment like Randolph’s. Has he told her about that, I wonder?”
“It seems to me that they’ve done very little talking.” They exchanged a warmly amused glance before the duke added. “So he and Miss Sinclair have a good deal to discuss.”
“Oh lud, what a conversation. I wonder how it will go.”
“I think a…challenging conversation will be quite good for Randolph.” The duke saw that he’d surprised his wife, which was curiously satisfying. It seemed he did indeed know a few things about their sons that she didn’t.
The duchess sank back on her pillows with a sigh.
“This has tired you out.”
“I’m so weary of being tired,” she responded fretfully. “How am I to watch over my family when I can’t get out of bed? If I were to call on the Sinclairs…”
“Leave it to me,” he said.
“You’re going to call?”
“Not that. But something.”
“What will you do?”
“That remains to be seen.”
Her worries masterfully assuaged, the duchess relaxed into a