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"You think that I am sitting around doing nothing?" Nicholas defended. "I agree that my investigations are taking undue time, but some things are simply beyond our control."
Ernest's voice dipped very low. “Dosomethingor I swear to God you will meet me if Jenny is ruined.”
“There appears to be a queue forming of gentlemen that wish to duel me,” he stated in a matter-of-fact manner. He was growing furious, mostly at himself. "You wouldn't be the first person I hear that from today. Go ask Lord Hanover to be your second, would you? And don’t forget to inform Sir Phineas. Surely, he would be happy to join.”
"Oh, I will if you don't take responsibility." Nicholas groaned. Why was everyone thinking he was doing nothing? They loved Jenny but he doubted they could ever love her as he did.
Ernest stormed out of his study the way he had come, leaving the door wide open. He picked up a pen—for lack of something better—and threw it at the door, cursing. Then he strode out into the hall, bellowing the butler’s name. “Fetch my hat and gloves,” he ordered when Bentley appeared.
"Shall I have the carriage brought round, Your Grace?" he asked calmly.
"No." He walked past him to the servants’ entrance at the back of the house, then straight to the stables.
Nicholas rode his mount hard in frustration to an obscure pub outside of Mayfair, hoping for some respite away from all the accusations. Having a clear head was important and he could not get that with every man in Jenny’s life threatening to challenge him to a duel. After ordering some ale from the cheerful barman, he found a table in a corner and took a seat. Footsteps approached and he looked up, expecting his ale but was equally disappointed and aggravated by the sight of the person that stood before him instead.
"Your Grace," Sir Phineas said, taking the empty seat opposite him. "Fancy running into you here." Nicholas mumbled something that sounded like a greeting.
"Not feeling chatty, eh? Well, I am not feeling very chatty myself." He tapped his well-manicured nails on the table.
"How long do you reckon before they bring out our drinks?" Sir Phineas asked after a beat, cracking his knuckles now.
"Would you quit with thebloodynoises?" Nicholas finally snapped.
"At last!" he exclaimed. "I thought you had something stuck in your throat for a while there, mate."
"I'm not yourmate," Nicholas grumbled.
"In here, right now, you are." The young man's blithe features suddenly turned serious. An expression Nicholas hadn’t ever thought his face capable of forming before now formed. "Considering that I quietly conceded a most precious gem to you, I think that I have definitely earned that position."
Nicholas understood where the conversation was headed, but he did not speak. He allowed the man to continue. "I have to admit that my initial interest in Jenny was because she reminded me of a certain person I lost. Her name was also Jenny, you see and she bid the world adieu a little too early."
Nicholas's indignation began to dissolve as the man spoke. His jealousy might be irrational and unfounded. "When I met her as Lady Jenny Robshaw, she reminded me ofmyJenny. And honestly, I had the desire to replace my Jenny with her."
Nicholas looked up at this pronouncement, then started to say something but Sir Phineas held up a hand. "I know how selfish that sounds. Not to mention the cruelty of subjecting her to living in someone else's shadow for the rest of her life. That would have been unforgivable. But as I got to know her, I realized that all I wanted was friendship from her.
"The connection I share with Jenny is that of one soul seeking to better the other. And shehasbettered my life in more ways than I could ever express.” Nicholas listened with grave attention as Sir Phineas sang his wife's praises and every word was the truth. Jenny was a light that could never be put out.
"She opened my eyes that night at Hyde Park to the one mistake I didn't realize I have been making that almost ruined me," he finished solemnly.
Sir Phineas was far from the breezy fellow he painted himself to be. Inside, he was a broken man who masked his pain with a constant smile on his face while making efforts to put genuine ones on others' faces. That understanding removed the animosity Nicholas felt toward him and it was replaced with respect.
"Why are you telling me this, Sir Phineas?" Nicholas asked him at length.
"Two reasons," he said, taking a swig of his ale before continuing. "First, because you are a good man, Nicholas, and I should hate for you to find yourself in a similar situation as the one I once found myself in. Second, I may have changed my plans of making Jenny my bride earlier but I still would have given her up to you because she loves you and only you. I don't fancy seeing my sacrifice wasted. I know that you love her, too."
Nicholas could not contain his surprise at this observation. “How do you know?”
"It is quite apparent to anyone with a brain who has interacted with you." Sir Phineas smiled. "Now, I do not know the details of what is going on, but you will do yourself a great deal of good to not let some flimsy gossip sheet or whatever else that is happening control your fate. Jenny is far too good for that."
The look in Sir Phineas' eyes confirmed to Nicholas that the last statement was the warning he had been getting to all along. A warning issued to him as a man, an equal; damned the bloody title and society's hierarchy.
He returned home as the sun was setting. A strange feeling ran through him when he stepped into the foyer and Bentley’s worried face told him that something was wrong before his words confirmed it.
“It’s the Duchess, Your Grace.”
