Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Ralston received a summons. One he couldn’t ignore no matter how badly he may wish to.
The Duke of Lindley’s London home was located in the very heart of Mayfair.
Though Ralston had not lived there since he’d been a young man, he had been there often enough for various family obligations, mainly to fetch Eleanor.
His parents, however, had not been in residence at the house since their brief visit during the prior season.
Though the duke held a prominent seat in the House of Lords, he did not apply himself much to politics or the progress of the nation.
His focus was much more fiercely trained upon the needs of his family holdings, estates, assets, and legacy.
It was a responsibility that took him all over Great Britain.
And more often than not, Ralson’s mother, who had never been much of a social butterfly, chose to accompany her husband on his many travels.
It was still early and the neighborhood was quiet as Ralston walked from his carriage to the front door. He did not knock before entering yet the butler, Hughes, stood at perfect attention to greet him.
“Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning. Is His Grace in the study?”
Hughes replied with a deep nod. “The duke and duchess arrived home last evening.”
Two days ahead of their proposed schedule.
The door to his father’s study was slightly ajar, but Ralston stopped to knock all the same.
“Enter.”
Ralston spied his father instantly. The man simply commanded attention.
Tall and fit despite his increasing years, the duke was as fair as Ralston was dark.
But father and son shared a similar intensity in their presence.
It was a physical self-assurance and an indelible strength of purpose.
Ralston knew exactly who he was in the world because his father—a man of impeccable nobility, honor, and pride—had demonstrated by example.
The duke sat at his desk, reviewing some correspondence and didn’t even look up upon his son’s entrance.
Not unusual. The duke was never rushed from or into anything.
Though he’d expect that Ralston would respond immediately to his summons, he would take his own time in acknowledging him.
Not out of spite or pettiness, but simply because he was so accustomed to his world revolving around his own timetable.
Ralson stood patiently in a well-worn spot half-way between the door and the desk. Holding his wrist behind his back, he waited. It wasn’t long before the duke set his missive down and lifted a pale-gray stare to his only son.
“Ralston, it is good to see you,” he said with a modest but genuine smile as he gestured to the chair across the desk. “Come have a seat.”
“Welcome home, Father. I trust you and Mother are both well.”
“Of course,” the duke replied with a short, dismissive wave of his hand. “Your mother is still resting, but she will expect you for a family supper this week.”
Ralston nodded.
The duke had never been one to be particularly demonstrative in his affections, but he also wasn’t a complete tyrant. Reserved and focused were words often applied to him. He was also entirely predictable.
As soon as Ralston settled in the high-backed leather armchair, his father lowered his chin. “Tell me of the Season’s progress.”
Familiar with such requests, Ralston quickly and succinctly reviewed the pertinent events of the social season to date, advising his father of each gentleman Eleanor had danced with while giving a basic overview of Lydia and Bridget’s success as well.
It was an admittedly brief report.
The duke gave a subtle frown and tilted his head. “Eleanor is still struggling.”
It wasn’t a question, but Ralston nodded.
His father made a short sound before muttering. “It would seem she is even more sensitive than her mother had been.”
Ralston was just confused enough to ask, “Mother?”
The duke sighed. “Your mother had also been wary of social interactions. She still is, to be fair, though familiarity has made things easier for her over the years.” He looked to Ralston with a slightly hopeful gaze.
“Is there no particular gentleman who’s caught your sister’s eye? No one she seems to gravitate toward?”
Ralston thought of the Viscount Waring. However, though he’d spotted the two talking on occasion, his sister always appeared rather frustrated during the interactions and had denied any particular attachment.
And that reminded him that he’d intended to have a word with the gentleman about keeping his distance. It was probably something he should’ve done some time ago.
He scowled at his failure to take proper care of his sister and gave a negative shake of his head.
His father sighed again then lifted his brows. “And you, my son? You did not provide any details of your progress in that report.”
“Because there has been none.”
Gray eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I heard.”
Dammit.
“What have you heard,” Ralston asked as evenly as he could, though he could already imagine what rumors had reached his father. There had only been one woman he’d danced with all season, one woman he’d talked with in the middle of Hyde Park. One woman who’d consumed his thoughts for the last weeks.
There was a long pause during which the duke stared at him rather intently before he answered. “I’ve heard that you may not be as focused on your duties as you should be.”
Ralston tensed with the urge to argue that point. Isn’t that all he’d been focused on his entire life? Duty. Responsibility. Obligation. Family. Legacy.
When did he get to think of himself?
Only in that private room of the Lyon’s Den.
He forced the thought aside even as it filled him with a terrifying and uncomfortable truth. He had been lax in his duties lately. And aside from Eleanor’s situation with Waring, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any great remorse over it.
“You are nearing thirty. I was twenty-seven when your mother and I married, twenty-eight when you were born. It is long past time to look to your future. To the future of the dukedom and the future of the Fairchild family.…”
As his father’s familiar lecture continued, Ralston remained still and enduring, as he always did.
None of the words were new to him, but his reaction to them was far more rebellious than he’d ever experienced before and the effort it took not to argue against some of the less valid points his father so frequently made was more taxing than usual.
By the time he was excused from his father’s presence, Ralston couldn’t even recall what he’d said to assure his father. No doubt, it was similar to what he always said.
I understand my role. I will not disappoint you or the family. I will endeavor to fulfill my duties to my utmost ability.
His strides across the great hall were long as he made his way to the front door.
Stepping outside he took a deep breath, hoping to dispel some of the weight he felt pressing down on his shoulders, realizing in surprise that the burden he perpetually carried hadn’t seemed so unbearable recently. Until today, that is.
Hoisting himself into the carriage, he tensed when he saw that it was already occupied.
“I need a quick moment, brother,” Eleanor said quickly, holding up a hand to halt any argument he was prepared to give. “Just a drive around the block, I swear.”
Ralston was not at all in the mood for further conversation, but there was something in his sister’s steady gaze—an urgency and stubbornness—he didn’t often see, so he gave a short nod then instructed his driver to circle the block.
As the carriage rolled away from the house, he lifted his brows in question.
Eleanor sighed, then smiled. “I overheard you and father talking in the study.”
His brow furrowed as he snorted softly. “Of course, you did.”
She narrowed her gaze at his remark before lifting her chin to continue. “I think you should disregard everything he said.”
“You do?” Ralston asked with a spark of amusement.
“Indeed.” His sister nodded, her expression shockingly earnest. “It is not unknown to me, or anyone who bothers to look at you with true curiosity, that you have been unhappy for some time.” Ralston opened his mouth to utter quick denial, but Eleanor flashed a sharp look to silence him.
“I don’t shame you for your unhappiness.
If fact, I’m a bit surprised you’re not more morose considering all that you are forced to endure as Father’s heir.
I do not envy you, brother. Not in that, at least,” she added with a shrug, making him wonder what she did envy.
“I assume you have a point,” Ralston muttered, growing uncomfortable with her perceptive assessment.
She flashed a smile. “My point…is that I have noticed the difference in you these last couple weeks. Though your obvious distraction has made you wonderfully remiss as an escort and chaperone, it is clear that whatever—or whomever—has stolen your focus, it has been a good change for you.”
He did not appreciate being chastised for his failings—even if she was clearly teasing—when he’d only just acknowledged them to himself. But he couldn’t argue against her point, either.
“Now, I can see that you are starting to berate yourself for no reason. I’ve been fine. Bridget and Lydia have been fine. We really are capable of managing ourselves, you know.” She tilted her head and pinned him with a dark, peering stare. “Are you capable of caring for yourself, brother?”
Ralston snorted.
“I have seen you with Miss Dickson,” she noted. “I know something is going on there.”
Ralston tensed. “I suppose the gossips are running rampant with tales.”
“Of course, but that is not why I bring up her name. I have seen you with her, brother. And I have never known you to behave so intently toward another person. When you are with her…you are utterly engrossed by her.” Eleanor flashed a sly smile. “It’s rather fascinating to witness, actually.”
Distressed that she had observed so much, he gave a rough retort, “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? My entire life, I’ve known you to be unflappable, totally focused, untouchably committed to your role as heir to the Lindley dukedom and eldest of the many Fairchild cousins.
Don’t think I’m not aware of the weight of responsibility you must carry, brother.
And you have certainly carried it well all these years.
But when you are in the company of Miss Dickson—for the first time ever—I can see that you are just a man. As any other.”
Ralston scowled and opened his mouth to protest, feeling as though he were being judged for forgetting his duty to their family. But Eleanor stopped him with a quick shake of her head.
“It’s a good thing. You are just a man, Ralston. Which is to say you are far more than the son of a duke. It’s time you allowed yourself to acknowledge that.”
“It’s complicated.”
She snorted in amusement. “It always is, isn’t it. But complicated isn’t impossible.”
Resisting the urge to shift in his seat, Ralston stared back at her. “When did you become so wise?”
Eleanor snorted. “There is something to be said for preferring to be the observer rather than the observed. I see things, Ralston. And I understand your reluctance. It won’t be easy to claim your own happiness within the structures you are obligated to support.
But you deserve it.” Her eyes caught and held his.
“We all do. And if anyone can handle the unnatural pressures of such a situation, I reckon it is you.” She shrugged and offered a subtle smile.
“And…though I cannot claim to know her, I suspect Miss Dickson is not the type of woman to shy away from a challenge either.”
Ralston looked at his sister with a more discerning eye. “Wise, indeed,” he murmured.
Eleanor’s smile widened, as she accepted the compliment with a gracious nod of her head.