for ever.’
‘Then I will worry about it when that time arrives.’
‘I have arrived at that time in my life. As I won’t live for ever, I’ve decided I might wish to marry some day.’
‘You only have to say you’re a duke.’ She increased the distance between them and could tell by the barest flick of his head that he noticed.
‘Not worked so far.’ His voice fell, fading into nothingness. A low rumble.
She didn’t move closer.
‘Describe a suitor’s best qualities. Knowing them might help me impress someone.’
She caught the emphasis he put on the word someone and the subtle lightness that appeared in his eyes as he looked at her, and her heart beat bird-like. She clasped her skirt in her hand, clenching her fingers on the cloth. ‘It would not do you any good to be putting on a pretence while courting a future wife.’ She pushed forward, moving close, her body directly aligned with his face. ‘You must be true to who you are.’
‘I agree.’ His words affirmed in a way that said no one should doubt it. ‘Tell me about what it would take for a man to interest you as a husband.’
‘I have never given it thought because the nature of marriage seems false to me. I have no pressing need to carry on the lineage as you do.’
‘It’s a shame because you would make a good mother. You watched over your sister so closely.’
‘I had no choice.’
‘No one would have faulted you for not.’
‘But she is my sister and I could do it. I would have faulted myself. And now I fear I can’t keep her from that rake Foxworthy and he will break her heart or ruin her.’
‘You cannot manage someone’s life for them. And they may be good for each other.’
‘Will you help keep Foxworthy away from Abigail?’ she asked.
‘No. It’s their lives.’
‘But she’s my sister and I don’t want her being—’ Miserable. Miserable like their mother had been. Separated from her husband and society. Locked in an unhappy marriage.
‘Let the romance finish on its own. You can’t keep them apart.’
‘I thought you would help me.’
‘I am. Let it be and Fox will tire of her soon, and if he doesn’t then it may be a good match.’ He took his foot from the bench.
Edge no longer stood in front of her. His Grace watched her. But it was the Duke she wanted to question. ‘Why did you notice me?’
He moved his palm only slightly, indicating her house. ‘You live—’
‘So does Abigail.’
‘So she does.’
She tried to pull every memory of him to the forefront of her mind. ‘Do you remember shouting at me?’
‘I did not shout.’
‘You told me you had to study and for me to play in my garden. Not yours.’
‘I had to be top in my studies. I couldn’t grasp the Greek language. It was hard to concentrate with you asking me what each word I said meant.’
‘I had to go back to my mother’s house that day and my grandmother had been telling me that Mother didn’t love us or she would have stayed at the estate. It was a very bad day.’ Lily had been almost ten when her mother moved into a nearby house. But the separation was as failed as the marriage in many ways. Her parents hadn’t truly been able to stay away from each other until Lily’s late teens when they’d had one quiet argument—a courteous one—and something had turned bleak in both their faces.
‘I would have been kinder had I known,’ he said.
‘It wouldn’t have mattered. I had to get used to the arguments. My parents could not live together and couldn’t live apart. Until, well, you know the story.’
‘Yes. I remember. Your mother left town when Sophia’s memoirs were published.’
‘Just before. They’d been friends, but had a disagreement, and I’m sure Mother knew Sophia would use the book as a chance to get back at her.’ She shook her head. ‘I didn’t know how peaceful a day could be until she finally moved away.’
‘You stopped going out so much.’
‘I’ve not been invited—not that it mattered.’
‘I meant in the garden. You used to spend hours and hours outside.’
She laughed. ‘Part of it was a quiet rebellion. Mother had told me that my skin would blemish in the sun and no one would want to marry me.’
His grumble barely reached her ears. ‘I thought you were spending time with me—because you were interested in becoming a duchess.’
‘You did make my rebellion more enjoyable.’
‘And you made the studies more tolerable.’
‘Did you envy others their freedom?’
He shook his head. ‘I was fortunate. With privilege there is responsibility. My mother said it over and over.’
Another silence surrounded them, but didn’t separate. This time, he spoke. ‘I was curious, though. To not have a purpose would have been strange and I didn’t want that. Everyone’s future is mapped for them to some degree, so I didn’t rail against my good fortune of having the best of life. But the common life—the rest of life is so foreign to me. How can I represent the country well without understanding all of it?’
‘So that is why you noticed me. My commonness?’
‘Lily. Don’t put words in my mouth.’
‘I want to know what you really think.’
‘Then don’t jump to conclusions about what I say.’
She let the skirt she still clasped fall from her fingers. ‘You have been so trained to be a duke and lived it so long—that I wonder if what you say is what you really feel or what you have been trained to feel?’
‘Does it matter?’ Each word could stand alone.
‘It might some day. If you are deciding on your marriage now because it is what you are supposed to do.’
This time she heard his inward breath, slow and measured. ‘On my sickbed, I could hear the voices around me, but I didn’t want to speak or even open my eyes. My brother Andrew asked, “Do you think he will die tonight?”
‘I heard my brother Steven answer. He said no, I wouldn’t die that night.’ He continued to face her, but didn’t see her. ‘I didn’t care one way or the
