Page 19 of Her Passionate Duke

“I… thank you.” Linnet lifted the indicated cup, and drank gratefully, though it was every bit as foul as he had warned it would be. If it worked, she was willing to put up with the disgusting taste – one cup of disgusting liquid was by no means worse than days of itching. To distract herself from his nearness, as she lifted the other cup, and let the excellent tea wash away the horrid taste, she considered the evening – well, everything about it but her speech, which she did not wish to remember. “I wish I knew what was wrong with Lady Caroline, she’s barely spoken two words the entire night.”

Chapter Eight

Linnet felt herself blushing – realising just how odd it must have sounded, for her to change topic so dramatically. The Duke looked a little startled, but seemed to give her words due consideration before responding.

“I had noticed that she and Monsieur Fournier were sitting at some distance from each other, even though he has been paying considerable attention to her at other events of late. He seems like a rum fellow, but I’m afraid I don’t know very much about him – Mother invited him, as Ambassadors often have significant influence. What can you tell me about him?”

There was an intensity in his voice which belied the casual nature of the question – an intensity which made Linnet pause. She stared at the Duke, confused by his question, and by the intensity of his regard – which, sadly, seemed to be more related to his desire for her answer than to his wish to gaze at her for any other reason. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he had wanted to ask her this for some time. Which was odd – surely his mother would know more?

“I’m— I’m afraid I don’t know much about him, only what Lady Caroline has told me. He lost a brother during the war in Spain, and that was what spurred his decision to become a diplomat, apparently.”

“Yes, losing a loved one does tend to have a strong effect.” A shadow passed over his face. “It can affect the whole course of one’s life.”

Linnet spoke, feeling a deep connection with his words.

“My father died when I was very young, and I sometimes think that I would get along better with Mother if he had lived. It was a combination of things — losing him; being turned out of the house and forced to seek smaller lodgings; watching his brother take the estate. Taken as a whole, the experience nearly broke her.”

“I thought you might have lost someone.” The Duke’s eyes blazed with an unsettling brightness. “Somehow I can always tell.”

“Have you also lost someone?”.

He nodded. Reaching for an unlit candle, which sat on the side table, he turned it over in his hands absently, his eyes avoiding hers. She felt an intense urge to touch him, to somehow comfort him, so deep did his discomfort seem at the time.

“My father, but also my youngest brother, Gilbert. To this day I still blame myself — if it wasn’t for me, he might still be alive.”

“What happened?”

Linnet couldn’t resist asking, even though she was aware that she was prying rather rudely by doing so. The Duke placed the candle back in its holder and turned to face her.

“It was New Year’s Day, 1807, Gilbert was nine. Mid-winter had been unseasonably warm and the river at the back of our house hadn’t yet frozen over. I spent the afternoon running through the woods with Gilbert, pretending that we were knights and soldiers in Charlemagne’s army. We fashioned swords out of sticks and fought duels in which whole kingdoms were at stake. Then, as the day slowly ebbed away, we began to feel bored. By now, enough time has passed that I can’t remember who suggested it. I think it must have been me, for Gilbert never went near the water unless he was prompted. Looking out over the waters, we decided on a contest - we would walk in together, as deep as we could go. The loser would be the one who got swept off his feet by the current. Gilbert had never liked being seen as a coward and so he agreed readily.”

“Oh! Oh, no.”

Linnet thought that she could see where the story was going. The Duke nodded, looking suddenly tired and much older.

“Halfway across, Gilbert began to get nervous and wanted to turn back, but I coaxed him on. Soon his foot slipped and I thought that would be the end of it — I was still laughing and crowing over my victory when I realised that he hadn’t come up. For a moment the world seemed to go still. Then I saw his head bobbing at some distance — he had been carried away by the current, far further away than I had expected was possible, and was struggling, in vain, trying to find a foothold. I swam after him and, being a few years older and a better swimmer, I reached him rapidly and managed to drag him to shore. He had swallowed some water, and breathed some in – he was gulping, and spluttering, as if he couldn’t quite manage a full breath. I wrapped an arm around him and led him into the house, where we found Mother, who immediately put him to bed.”

Linnet wanted him to stop now so that she could go on pretending that there was a happy ending to this story, but she knew that there wouldn’t be. She had known that from the beginning. Unaware of what she did, she reached out, and laid her hand on his. Heat shot through her from the contact, but he seemed not to notice, his mind turned inward, reliving the past.

“And then…?”

“For a few days we thought that he was recovering. He stayed in bed, kept warm and given hot drinks - but he wouldn’t eat. Mother stayed by his side constantly, reading to him from a book of old-stories. The physician came to the house on the second night and examined him, then said that he ought to be fully recovered by the end of the week. But he wasn’t. It happened so fast that there wasn’t much we could do about it. On the morning of the third day he awoke looking pale and saying he felt cold all over. We immediately sent for the physician, but by the time he arrived Gilbert was already dead.”

“Your Grace, I’m so sorry.”

Linnet wanted to say more but words seemed inadequate. Instead, her fingers tightened on his, and, after a moment, he squeezed her hand in return.

“They said not to blame myself - but what else was I going to do at that age? I was fifteen, and had thought myself so strong and clever…” the Duke let out a loud sigh. “I blamed myself for coaxing him into the water and the world for being cruel enough to take him away from us. To me, until then, the world had seemed warm, safe, and hospitable — but then it was not anymore. There were so many ways it could kill you. There were snows which could freeze you and rivers which could drown you and stones which could crush you. I sank into myself, and determined that I would not take risks, and that I would protect those I cared for.”

“That must be why you’re so invested in the safety of orphan children.”

“I suppose it must be.” The Duke rose stiffly and lifted the cups. She felt the loss of his hand in hers acutely. “In one way or another that experience has shaped all of my life choices. It has shaped the… tasks… I have taken on, at every stage. I wanted to fix what had gone wrong, and I’ve been waging war against the world ever since.”

Linnet didn’t know what the Duke meant by ‘the tasks he had taken on’ and she didn’t want to ask, for fear of offending him. She was amazed that he had taken her into his confidence at all - she had the feeling that he hardly ever spoke about the death of his brother, and the thought that he had chosen to confide in her made her feel privileged.

“I am not sure that it is possible to be at war with the entire world…”

He smiled at her words, a wry little smile with an edge of sadness. “It is not. I have learnt that. Now I choose my battles carefully – and hopefully only take on those where I can have some hope of winning. But forgive me for holding you captive here for the last hour,” he said finally. “It was kind of you to listen to my ramblings.”