Chapter Seven
G yles sat back in the leather chair in his father’s study, a glass of brandy in hand in the event he needed reinforcement. As a youth, Gyles had always felt intimidated whenever summoned into this room although to be fair, he had been a handful. As an adult, any reprimands his parents had given him were only to ensure Gyles learned the lessons that had formed him into the man he was today.
Although he was considered a man about town, Gyles knew his limits of what he could and shouldn’t do and tried to conform to what was expected of him to the best of his ability. There was a sense of honor to his character that had been drilled into him. He was at least grateful that he appreciated all that he had been born in to. He wasn’t some pampered lord who looked down upon those less fortunate than he, nor did he take his wealth for granted.
A portrait of Gyles’s father, Douglas Yorke, Duke of Davenport, hung over the fireplace. A fine painting of the man himself in his younger days. His father appeared as if he were the same age as Gyles was now at one and thirty. The painting could have been a picture of Gyles, they were so similar in looks. His father had been in the prime of his life in that portrait and Gyles looked now upon his father with worry .
His father had not been well, of late, and the doctors couldn’t figure out what was causing his illness. He was aging right before their eyes and Gyles didn’t know what else he could do. Perhaps this was why he and his father continued to go over business matters on a daily basis. God forbid if he was taken from this earth—his father was much too young to succumb to whatever illness plagued him—but if the worst should occur, Gyles would be able to ensure that the family’s business dealings were seen to. But in his eagerness to make sure his son was well informed, his father sometimes pushed himself too hard. Gyles could see for himself his father had reached his limit and didn’t have much left to give to their discussion.
Gyles set his drink down and came to stand next to his father. “I think we’ve done enough for today, Father,” he said closing the ledger before going over to a bell cord to summon a servant.
“But there’s still more to show you,” the duke replied before a coughing fit caused Gyles to rush to get a glass of water.
Once his father’s cough subsided, Gyles placed an arm around his father’s shoulders. “There is nothing more you need to show me, Father. You’ve done your duty to me, Mother, and the estate. You just need to rest a while to recover.”
The duke waved his hand in annoyance. “Pretty soon I’ll be gone and no longer able to advise you.”
“Please don’t talk like that, Father,” Gyles said full of concern. “You know very well you’ll beat this illness and be back to your normal self in no time.”
Douglas slowly nodded his head. “If you say so, son.”
The door to the study opened and his mother, Clementia, filled the entryway. With her was a servant, who pushed a wheeled chair into the room and up next to the duke. Gyles helped assist his father, and he watched when he left the room. He gave a heavy sigh feeling the weight of responsibility hovering over his head. He sat in his father’s chair while the duchess took up Gyles’s vacated seat across from him.
“The desk and this room suit you, Wickes,” she murmured once they were alone. Tears glistened in her blue eyes showing a crack in her armor. She was not considered a weak woman by those that knew her, but everyone had their breaking point.
“You may think it suits me, Mother, but I would prefer if Father’s health improved so he could continue running things.”
“As would I, son, but what else can we do that we already haven’t tried?” A small sob caught in her throat before she squared her shoulders and once again became the strong woman Gyles had always known. “We need to talk.”
God forbid… here it comes , he thought. The heated conversation that he needed to step up his efforts to find a wife. “I’m sure it can wait, Mother,” Gyles said in the hopes he could divert whatever she had on her mind.
“You have been well trained by your father for years, Wickes, and I think it’s time you start to take over more responsibilities. Your father could use the break from the tedious dealings with estate and business matters,” his mother stated, surprising him since the topic wasn’t what he had been expecting.
“It will drive him mad to be inactive in something that he, too, has been managing all his life,” Gyles warned. “He needs to keep busy—”
“But not at the cost of his remaining health,” she interjected. “Really, Wickes, I thought you could be reasoned with. I assumed you wouldn’t object.”
Gyles ran a hand through his tawny-colored hair. “It’s not that I’m objecting, Mother. I just know that Father isn’t ready to completely hand over the reins of the duchy.”
“I will handle your father. In the meantime, there are a number of invitations to several balls that you haven’t responded to. Pick several and attend them. It’s time you picked out a bride worthy of you and your title.”
And there it finally was … The dig that he needed to marry. “There’s plenty of time for me to find someone to become my bride, Mother,” he said trying not to clench his teeth but failing.
She stood and he did the same. When she came over to him, she placed her hand on his cheek before she brushed a lock of his hair back off his forehead. “You look so much like your father did at your age,” she declared with a small smile before continuing. “But you’re not getting any younger, son. You know your responsibilities outweigh your desire for a carefree life. You were born to one day become a duke, and it’s well past time you find yourself a wife.”
His mother’s lecture finished, she gave him no further opportunity to reply as she left the room. He slumped into the chair and hung his head in his hands while another conversation flitted through his mind.
He had yet to learn anything of Josephine Bouchard’s whereabouts. How could one woman disappear so completely? It seemed impossible, and he had told the investigator to double his efforts to locate the woman. She had to be somewhere in London. Gyles highly doubted she would stray far from where she grew up. She might have been estranged from her brother, but Gyles knew how much the siblings had doted on each other back when they were young. Alone in the world, she would want the comfort of being someplace familiar. He had to find her but the question remained… was he finding Josephine for Simon’s benefit or for his own? The answer to that particular question would remain a mystery until the lady was brought home.
And then there was Mrs. Dove-Lyon who also seemed to have plans for him, although she had refused to give him any details as yet. Their conversation in her office was just that… idle chitchat that could have been accomplished in the gaming room. If he knew anything about the woman, he knew she never did anything without an end game in mind… God help him! Maybe it would be best if he stayed away from the Lyon’s Den and any betting. He had the notion he’d be on the losing end and would end up falling prey to whatever games the Widow of Whitehall had on her mind for his future.