or friend. The senior partner of the firm is desperate to resolve the matter—he’s assured me he’ll get the bottom of it, though we may have to wait till the next rent falls due on Midsummer Day if we’re not to alert the culprit.”
Henry nodded. “That makes sense. What about the tenant? Have you spoken with him.”
Reid grimaced. “I have. He’s not willing to give the house up, I’m afraid. And having perused the lease, it will be several years before you are able to terminate it—unless you wish to challenge its validity in court.” Reid’s expression told Henry what he thought of that idea.
Henry shook his head. “No, I don’t want to do that. I'm willing to leave the lease in place as long as he wishes to stay—it’s been the man’s home a long time now.”
Reid looked briefly curious, then nodded. “I’ll let him know. I take it you don't need the property back now?”
Henry shrugged. “Kit will have none of it,” he said. “I wanted to make good my debt to him but he will not accept any compensation. Nevertheless, the house needs to be taken care of and the rent collected, so I’d be grateful if you would take over its management. And my other city properties, if you are willing.”
Reid smiled, plainly pleased with this development. “Very willing, your grace,” he said, toasting Henry with his coffee cup.
They talked for a while longer, then Reid took his leave.
Only a short while later, the door opened again. It was Freddy this time, and once again he was looking very much the worse for wear.
Henry watched silently as Freddy made himself up a breakfast plate and sat himself down at the table.
He’d always been the most energetic of Henry’s children. Unlike his older brother, and to the despair of his tutors, he hadn’t shown the least bit of academic prowess. However, in every physical skill, he excelled. He was a neck-or-nothing rider, a fearless swimmer, an intrepid climber. Henry had long ago resigned himself to unmitigated worry that Freddy might suffer some injury on one of his escapades. He had not, however, foreseen the worries that this new Freddy—the fashionable young man about town—would bring. His enjoyment of prizefighting and racing were entirely unsurprising and of no great concern. But the heavy drinking, and gambling were rather more worrying.
Henry watched in silence as Freddy attempted to eat his breakfast. He soon abandoned the effort, setting down his cutlery and seeking sanctuary in his tea cup.
“Were you out last night?” Henry asked at last, though it was obvious he had been.
Freddy nodded. “A few of us made up a party at Vauxhall Gardens.”
“I’m surprised you’re up so early, then.”
“I’d have stayed in bed, but Fenchurch and Grantham are racing today,” Freddy said. “We’re going to watch.”
“We being you and Bartlett?” Henry asked.
“Yes. I shan’t be home for dinner, incidentally. A group of us are going on to Sharp’s.”
“Sharp’s?” Henry echoed, frowning. “Don’t you think you’re spending rather too much time in gaming hells?”
“Sharp’s isn’t a gaming hell,” Freddy scoffed. “Besides, I’m not going to play. Percy has a game arranged with someone or other, so we’re dining there, then after his game we may go on”—he waved his hand vaguely—“somewhere else.”
Henry frowned, unhappy, but said nothing. Freddy was only doing the same as any other young man of the ton, but Henry could not help but worry about the idle existence he was presently leading. Despite being born into great wealth, Henry had been expected to play an active role in managing the ducal estate and to learn what that entailed from a young age. He had never been, as Freddy seemed to be, entirely lacking in purpose.
Except, a small voice inside Henry said, he is not entirely lacking in purpose, is he? You know what he wants to do with his life.
Henry sighed and rubbed at the tense spot between his brows.
“Is something wrong, Father? Do you have a headache?”
Henry looked up at that, and for an instant he caught a glimpse of the old Freddy in his son’s concerned gaze. The impulsive, affectionate little boy who had so often cheered Henry in his lowest moments.
“A bit of one,” he said. “I think I’ll go and have a walk. The fresh air will do me good.” He stood and, on his way past Freddy, paused to squeeze his shoulder, wishing he could embrace him the way he used to, when Freddy was little. Things had been so