AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sorenson joined Nathaniel at the window. “I’ve seen your brother out walking, Rothhaven. He’s hale and whole, from what I can tell. Put some manners on him and introduce him as your long-lost second cousin. The old duke was known to be less than faithful to his duchess, and everybody would assume Robbie was just another by-blow. It’s been done.”
Robbie pushed his barrow full of thorny branches around to the far end of the rosebushes.
“By-blows have been passed off as long-lost cousins,” Nathaniel said. “I grant you that, but dukes are not passed off as by-blows. If I agree to such a scheme, it only raises more questions—who is his mother, where has he been for years, why keep him secret until now? Besides, once presented as a by-blow, Robbie can never assume his rightful role as duke, not even when I die. He wants to leave, Pietr, to banish himself to some obscure manor on the moors, where I cannot protect him and all manner of trouble can find him.”
“What does Her Grace say to that?”
Mama had arrived three days ago, settled in at the dower house, and begun looting its attics for paintings, porcelain, and other domestic touches. To Nathaniel’s eye, Robbie’s bed of irises was looking well thinned, the excess doubtless transplanted into borders at the dower house.
Too much change, far too quickly, and yet, despite the upheaval, despite Robbie’s plan to banish himself, despiteeverything, Nathaniel still had time to miss Althea.
To wish for the impossible where Althea was concerned, and to worry for her.
“Her Grace is collecting intelligence,” Nathaniel said. “In the manner of duchesses from time immemorial.”
“A duchess sent me here, Rothhaven. I called at Lynley Vale, thinking to warn Lady Althea of the gantlet she will face at her own ball. Her Grace of Walden was present, and as the nominal hostess of the upcoming event, I felt she should also be made aware of the situation.”
The door at the far end of the garden opened, and Nathaniel’s mother entered. She wore a plain day dress and a straw hat, and from a distance, could have been her younger self.
“That damned door was supposed to be locked,” Nathaniel muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. If the Duke and Duchess of Walden are on hand to protect Lady Althea from gossip, then I am not needed, am I?”
“After I had apprised Lady Althea and Her Grace of Walden of Lady Phoebe’s intentions, the duchess walked me to my horse, Rothhaven. In the entire history of the realm, no Yorkshire vicar has ever before been walked to his horse by a duchess. Bishops and archbishops, perhaps, but not country parsons.”
Pietr was not a country parson. He was a learned and well-connected man who should have been a bishop or an archbishop. That insight emerged in Nathaniel’s awareness as Mama brandished a pair of secateurs and made a snip-snip motion in the direction of Robbie’s roses. She and her firstborn went to work on the far end of the bed, looking like any companionable mother and son enjoying some fresh air.
“They may never work together in the garden again,” Nathaniel said. “I hate that. In all the world, so few people know or love Robbie, and he’s preparing to leave even those few behind. I have failed him, and I don’t know how to make it right.”
“You are failing Lady Althea as well. If Robbie’s planning to leave, then you will be free—”
“I will not be free. If I marry Althea, and Robbie’s existence becomes known, my vows will be worthless, our children illegitimate. Something as simple as leaving a lesser title off the marriage license can render the union invalid. If Robbie is found to be mentally incompetent, then he will be forbidden to marry, and the whole bloody mess will grow more complicated.
“Somebody already knows that Robbie yet lives,” Nathaniel went on. “I’ve told you about the notes, and whoever wrote them would doubtless delight in thwarting any continuation of the succession.”
And that probability was the real risk to any future with Althea. Nathaniel was simply not free to offer for her.
“I have a traitor here at the Hall,” Nathaniel said, hating even to use the word aloud, “probably an unwitting traitor, and if I can silence the current threat, another one will doubtless emerge over time.” Robbie had certainly puzzled that out as well, hence his recent inclination toward banishment on the moors.
“None of which is relevant to the current dilemma,” Sorenson retorted. “Lady Althea’s ball is tomorrow, and she has sent you an invitation.”
Nathaniel slept with that invitation on his bedside table. He was so far gone with lovesickness that he wanted the comfort and torment of Althea’s handwriting within sight as he fell asleep and as he awakened. Her little riding hat sat beside the invitation, all bright feathers and jaunty fashion.
“So she sent me an invitation. I have been rejecting courtesy invitations for years.”
“Her Grace of Walden bid me to acquaint you with the particulars of the problem, Rothhaven, and she also asked me to convey a message.”
Nathaniel mentally braced himself for a tongue-lashing, for the well-deserved setdown and sermon he was due.
“And?”
“The duchess told me to relay the following: If you give Lady Althea cause for tears, Phoebe Philpot’s gossip will be the least of your worries. Guilt and shame will create more forbidding walls than you could ever erect on Rothhaven land, and you will be trapped behind them.”
“A vicar bearing threats. What has the clergy come to?” Nathaniel managed the indifferent tone, the hint of amusement that his own father had so often claimed, and yet the duchess’s message struck a severe blow to his resolve.
He had been seen kissing Althea—no matter that she’d kissed him too on occasion—and he was not an ogre. Not yet. If the lady was judged harshly because of his actions, he was honor-bound to make the situation right.
