sound of the nuts stopped suddenly.
‘It is an awful lot of work, watching out for the two of them, is it not?’ the duke suggested, swinging his conker back to tap the boy’s.
There was more silence from the boy, as though he was only just realising that he might be the watcher, and not the one to be watched over. Then, slowly, he nodded. ‘They do not listen to me,’ he whispered.
‘Even when you are right, as you were when you did not like my nephew,’ the duke agreed. ‘But you are still the man of the house, when all is said and done. That is why I must come to you now.’
The boy gave him a wide-eyed, blank look.
‘What you just saw, when your mother and I were under the mistletoe, was not quite proper of me. You were right to stop us.’
The boy gave a confused look over his shoulder, towards the place his mother had retreated. Then he turned back and cracked his conker hard against the one the duke was holding.
‘She will thank you. And she will forgive me eventually, I am sure.’ At least he hoped she would. There was much more to be discussed before the matter could be settled between them. ‘But for now, if we are to do this properly, you must ask my intentions.’
The boy gave him another confused look, the nut hanging still on the string before him.
The duke began again. ‘When I kissed your sister, it was as a friend. It was very innocent. But she is unmarried, as am I, and some people might wonder.’
‘But you are old,’ the boy said, as though this explained everything.
‘Not so old as all that,’ the duke said, trying not to growl. Then he added, ‘If you see such things in the future, and you are not sure they are proper, you have but to clear your throat and give a disapproving look. It will stop things before there is trouble.’ He demonstrated and the boy shrank back in alarm.
He smiled again. ‘Or you can just be a damned little nuisance. It works almost as well at breaking up liaisons, and you are very good at it.’
The boy smiled back, swinging the nut back and forth in a low arc, quite pleased with his own cleverness.
‘But if you were to see something as you just saw between myself and your mother?’ The duke gave a gentle smile. ‘That was somewhat more serious. As such, you had a right to ask what I was doing.’
‘I did that,’ the boy pointed out.
‘And I told you,’ the duke said. ‘But honour also requires me to tell you of the esteem in which I hold your mother. And to request your permission to court her.’
The boy stared at him in thoughtful silence. The conker swung back and forth like a pendulum.
For a moment, Montford wondered what he might do should the boy refuse. Clout the little beggar on the ear, perhaps. He was owed at least one good whack for the boot he’d delivered in the parlour.
‘You want to court my mother,’ the boy said, making a small face. ‘That is well and good for you. But what does that mean to me?’
It was a legitimate question. ‘I suppose, should we marry, I would be your stepfather.’
‘I can manage without one,’ Benjamin answered solemnly.
‘Right enough.’ The boy was a surprisingly hard bargainer. ‘But at least, with me, you are being consulted. At some point, your mother might choose one for you and give you no say in the matter.’
‘True, that,’ the boy agreed.
‘If you were to agree to me, I could take your troublesome sister off your hands, as well. I will find her a proper husband.’ He thought for a moment. ‘One that does not kick dogs.’
‘At least then she would stop crying over the last one,’ Ben agreed. ‘What else?’
What else? He could offer a large house, a proper education, a possible knighthood and a solid career in anything that might interest the child. But he doubted any of those would tempt. ‘I have a manor in Sussex with a very nice piece of land attached to it. There are woods with trees fit for climbing.’ He looked over at the boy. ‘I climbed them myself, when I was your age. Also a pond, with as many frogs as you might want, and a stream for fishing.’
‘I have never been fishing,’ the boy admitted. ‘When Papa was home, there was never time.’ Was that wistfulness he heard in the child’s tone?
‘Your father was the captain of a ship, was he not?’
The boy nodded.
‘He was a very busy man. I am but a duke and—’ other than running the country, and keeping my tenants housed and hundreds of servants fed and clothed ‘—I have more than enough time to fish. In summer, when the weather is good, we will live in the country and I will teach you.’
The boy brightened.
‘Do I have your blessing?’ the duke prompted.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You must call me Your Grace,’ he reminded the boy. ‘At least until we can settle on something more fitting that your mother will agree to.’
‘Yes, My Grace,’ the boy said with a slanted smile meant to annoy. Then he delivered a solid whack with his conker and split the duke’s nut in two.
‘Hot cockles,’ the duke said, and slapped him lightly on the back of the head. ‘Now I must go and try to mend the damage you did to your mother’s heart by making her think I loved your sister better than her. Keep your mouth shut on this for a day or two and you shall be gutting your own trout by May.’
The boy made a gesture of a key turning on his locked lips, grabbed the conkers and ran for the kitchen.
* * *
Christmas Eve dinner was less formal and more tense than the one on the previous evening. Mrs Marsh remained locked in her room, leaving Mrs Jordan to see to the children and the meal. It seemed the housekeeper had also been instructed to prevent further misbehaviour by Montford, for she was present in the dining room more than she was absent, adding and removing plates and sides as diligently as a footman.
She should, at least, have been appreciative of the meal he had provided for them. He had ordered a fully cooked goose from the village baker to make up for the roast that had been served to him the night before. She had smiled and thanked him when it had been delivered to the kitchen, along with a hamper that contained oranges, chestnuts and an iced Christmas cake.
But then Generva had announced her megrim and the whole house had turned against him. Not the whole house, perhaps. Gwendolyn and Mrs Jordan might look on him with suspicion. But Ben still seemed to enjoy his company, as did the spaniel.
After the meal, they retired to the parlour for cards and games. Mrs Jordan stationed herself in the corner with a bag of knitting like a tricoteuse beneath the guillotine, enjoying his suffering.
Was it not punishment enough that Generva refused to speak with
