Page 52 of The Devil to Pay

“As to that,” his father said, his tone grim.

Jules’ heart sank. And it had been going so well.

“I know, sir,” Jules said, feeling utterly wretched.

“Well, I think I had best leave you two men to have a little chat,” his mother said briskly, tidying away her notebook and getting to her feet.

Jules sent her a pleading look that she did not pretend to misunderstand, but she only smiled at him. Crossing to where he sat, she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“Courage, little acorn,” she whispered softly, using a pet name she had given him when he was only a baby, as a reminder that one day he would be a mighty oak tree, no matter how small and inconsequential he felt at the time.

Jules watched her go before daring to meet his father’s eyes.

“Don’t look so stricken,” the duke said gently. “I’m not going to rake you over the coals. By the look of you, I suspect you’ve done a fair bit of soul searching of late. It’s not pretty, is it, when you look back and realise what a mess you’ve made, how badly you have behaved, and how it could have so easily been different? But there is no way of going back, Jules. We can only go forward, and make sure we do better.”

“Yes, sir,” Jules said with feeling. “I don’t even know why… except, well, perhaps I do, only you’ll think it foolish, I dare say.”

His father looked at him and got to his feet, picking up Jules’ discarded glass and a clean one for himself. He poured them both a healthy measure of brandy, and handed one to his son, before sitting down opposite him.

“Go on,” he said.

Jules took a moment to consider what he wanted to say, to try to explain something he could not understand for himself until quite recently. “I’ve always known what a privilege and a responsibility it is to be Bedwin. I have never, for a moment, been anything but proud and profoundly glad that I would have the chance to carry on your legacy, and, I hope, make you proud too.”

His father smiled, a look of such warmth and approval in his eyes, Jules’ throat tightened. Telling himself to buck up, he carried on.

“I have always taken the role seriously, and despite my… my ridiculous adventures, I have never neglected my own estates, or shirked my responsibilities.”

“I never said otherwise,” his father remarked lightly.

“No,” Jules replied. “But you knew I only did the bare minimum. I acted as… as an overseer, a manager, perhaps, not as the Marquess of Blackstone. I did it because it was my duty, not because I cared, not because it was my legacy. Not like you do.”

“I know it. Are you going to tell me why?”

Jules hesitated, wondering if his father would think him fanciful, or just making excuses. He avoided looking at him as he spoke, not wanting to see scepticism in his eyes. “I think… I think I thought that if I did not take it seriously, if I did not do it quite well enough, that you would not think me ready to be duke. And if I wasn’t ready to be duke—”

“I would live until you were and therefore not kick the bucket anytime soon?” his father said with a wry tone. “And you, naturally, would never be quite ready.”

Jules darted his father a look to see if he was being mocked but saw but sympathy and regret in his face.

“I told you it was foolish,” he said, a trifle defensively.

The duke rubbed a hand over his eyes and gave a short laugh. “Lucian Barrington, I swear you are omniscient,” he muttered to himself.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Jules asked in confusion.

His father shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied with a smile. “But I do not think you foolish, Jules. In fact, I am touched, and very, very proud of you. I am afraid I cannot promise you I shall live forever. One day, you will be duke, just as you ought to be. It is right and proper. All things have their time and place, but I tell you this. I could still bowl you out and in a flat race I’ll wager my new bay over any flashy bit of horseflesh you care to name, and I have no intention of shuffling off for a good while yet.”

Jules gave a startled laugh and a good deal of the weight that had been pressing down on him of late lifted in the light of his father’s smile.

“I am exceptionally glad to hear that, sir, though I shall take that wager and make you eat your words.”

“You do that,” the duke said, regarding him with amusement from over the rim of his glass. He took a sip of brandy, his expression becoming serious, and Jules knew they were not done.

“It’s a bad business, son.”

Jules nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m speaking to Montagu about it. I hope if the both of us exert our influence over Lord Haversham, we shall be able to silence him.”