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“Her father cares for nothing but arcane philosophies.” Tereford waved a hand. “Which I know nothing about. Otherwise, he is the laziest man in creation.”
“Her mother…” Kenver ventured. Perhaps the duchess had a female parent like his.
“Died when she was quite young.”
“Oh, I am sorry.”
“Cecelia has an extremely eccentric aunt,” the duke offered like an odd compensation.
Altogether this was an odd conversation, Kenver thought. “I suppose your family was another story,” he said.
The duke turned to look at him. “Story,” he repeated. His tone was not promising.
Kenver didn’t blame him. It had been a clumsy remark. He became conscious of a wish to gallop away. “Families…and marriage, one doesn’t really know how…” To finish that sentence, Kenver thought.
“They don’t always get on,” the other man said. Tereford examined him. “Cecelia is good friends with your wife,” the older man said. “You might speak to her.”
“I don’t think I could do that,” Kenver replied. He didnotneed another authoritative female in his life. “There’s a very fine view from that hilltop,” he said. He set his heels to Dancer’s sides and picked up the pace. They could ride and not talk for the rest of this outing, and everyone would be happy. Which seemed indeed to be the case.
“You know, Cecelia,” said the duke when the Terefords met in their suite later that day. “These missions of yours drag me into areas where I have no expertise.”
She looked inquiring.
“It’s all very well for you to help your friends. I commend you. But I am ill equipped to join in.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, James.”
“Young Pendrennon spoke to me on our ride today.”
“Yes? Well, I suppose you couldn’t go through the whole outing without some conversation.”
“He said something about families.”
“Is he worried about his parents’ treatment of Sarah?”
“Ah, perhaps that was it.”
“Perhaps it should be!” She gave him a speculative look. “You do know a good deal about tyrannical parents, James.”
“How to get on very badly with them,” he replied, his tone gone raw.
“You came out well in the end.”
He gave her an ironic bow. “Thank you.”
Cecelia hesitated, examined his expression with compassion, and turned to look over some letters that had arrived from London rather than at him. “Well, you can simply avoid such conversations in the future.”
Oddly, the duke found that being given what he wanted was not satisfying. “You don’t think I have anything to tell him?”
“You needn’t try. Don’t worry, James. I will keep you out of my ‘mission’ for Sarah.”
That was exactly what he’d requested. He ought to feel pleased. “Since you know what you’re doing, and I do not,” he replied.
She looked up from a letter. “Since you are not interested.”
He wasn’t, of course.
“Is something else wrong?” Cecelia asked.
