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“Well?” the duke said, his deep voice kind. “Are you going to explain what I saw today?”
Heat crept up Simon’s neck even while his stomach dropped. “Miss Frost and I were only talking, Your Grace.”
The duke raised one hand. “Father. I am your father in this moment, not the duke. A father who is concerned for his son, and for the people under his care.”
Simon stared at the duke, somewhat surprised. “You are always the duke.”
“Unfortunately, I always bear that title.” His father smiled, the expression tight and perhaps a little sad. “But right now, the duke comes after the father. And you had more than a conversation on your mind with Miss Frost.”
“That is true,” Simon admitted softly. “But I did not act on my desire to kiss her.”
The duke’s forehead wrinkled as his eyes narrowed. “You wished to kiss her?”
Simon straightened his shoulders. “More than that, Father. I hope you will grant me your leave to offer Miss Frost a courtship, with the goal of marriage in mind, should we suit.”
Father stared, his expression unchanging. “You haven’t even known her a month.”
Simon had nettled himself with that truth for nearly a fortnight. How could he possibly know what he wanted after such a short time? And yet, he’d never felt more certain of anything in his life. He answered his father with complete sincerity, keeping his voice even and his shoulders back, his answer full of confidence.
“Which is why I wish for a proper courtship. But if what I know of her to this point holds true, there is no woman of my acquaintance who would suit me better than Miss Frost.”
The duke studied his son, still leaning against the tree. Still unmoved. “And what about your suitability for her, Simon? What makes you worthy of this woman you hold in such high esteem?”
Simon’s confidence withered. The fear of falling short of his father’s expectations built again. “What do you mean? I am your heir. An earl—”
“A chance of birth, though a good one.” The duke nodded his understanding. “But hardly a qualifier for a happy marriage. In fact, looking at previous histories, one could argue that a high rank would make such a marriage difficult.”
His father didn’t think Simon could make Isleen happy? Though the heir might doubt his place as duke, he’d never doubted that his parents loved him. Or that they had instilled in him the desire to find a love of his own, to cherish and care for his future wife and family. He’d learned fromthem. How could his father doubtthat?
“Yet it is precisely because I am your son that I have a better chance than most at making her happy, if I am her choice,” Simon stated with a clearness of mind and heart that gave his words added weight. “She will be first in my heart and in my life. How could she be otherwise? If I am fortunate enough to have her heart, I will devote my life to her happiness and security. Have you not done the same for my mother?”
The duke’s shoulders relaxed. “And what of her low birth? The daughter and sister of a baron, and an Irish baron at that.”
“Low birth?” he repeated, incredulous. “Isleen carries herself as well as the ladies at the highest point of society. Beyond that, she is kind, witty, and intelligent. One day—far in the future, I hope—she would make a wonderful duchess. Isleen—”
“Miss Frost,” his father corrected, and Simon caught a twinkle in his father’s eye that nearly distracted him from his purpose.
“Isleen Frost,” Simon amended, “is strong and capable. Her rank is of no matter to me. As you said, rank is a matter of chance. Not of choice or examination. She has been raised in the home of a politician. That will give her the experience she needs to begin in her position, and I will help her. She can do it, Father. I know she can.”
A pause followed his words, and his father sighed heavily. He pushed away from the tree, approaching Simon, the two of them eye-to-eye. The day that Simon had matched his father in height, it had felt like an accomplishment of some kind. But since then, he’d learned that matching his father in form was not at all the same as matching him in wisdom and capability.
Father put his hand on Simon’s shoulder, holding his gaze. “Simon. You were always a stubborn boy, and you have grown into a determined man. It is an honor to be your father.”
Every tangled emotion within Simon untwisted itself, and he stood still, dazed by his father’s simple declaration. “Thank you, Father.”
The older man nodded once, and that single eyebrow hitched upward. This time, accompanied by a smile and his father’s good humor. “If Miss Frost welcomes your attentions and your suit, she will be most welcome in our family. I have faith that you will choose well for yourself, and for your future duchess.”
Simon’s knees nearly buckled in relief, but instead he gave his father a grin. “If she’ll have me, I think Miss Frost will be a wonderful addition to the family.”
“Your mother certainly likes her,” the duke said, surprising Simon with that piece of knowledge. “And I am predisposed to agree with anything your mother says. Keep me informed of where you stand with Miss Frost. I want to be among the first to wish you happy.” His father’s words warmed Simon through and through. Had he guessed his father had such faith in him? “Now. Let us continue up to the castle. There is much that remains to be done for our Christmas Eve ball.”
“Thank you, Father.”
The duke blinked at him. “For what?”
“For having faith in me.”
At this, the duke’s smile turned to something else. It became gentler. Fatherly. “Perhaps I don’t say it enough, Simon. So listen well, because what I say now, I have always felt in my heart. I am proud to be your father, because I am proud of you. You have become a man of sound principle. I hope I have many years left to watch you, to share everything that I wish my father had had time to share with me. But if that wish is not granted, the family and our title will be well cared for in your capable hands.”
