Chapter Two
o
London, April, six years later
“You wished to see me, Father.” James stood in the doorway of his father’s library, no idea why he’d been summoned. Father never requested his presence unless he required James to do something inconvenient or unpleasant.
“Sit, Tilburn.” Father always addressed him by his courtesy title and never with any degree of paternal affection.
The man twisted his signet ring around his smallest finger.
James recognized that smug gesture. Something had Father feeling exceptionally satisfied with himself. That was not a good omen.
Father’s mouth turned up in a pleased smile. “The Duke of Kielder summoned me to his home this afternoon.”
James’s lungs seized. No man in the entire kingdom inspired the level of heart-stopping fear His Grace did.
His presence at any event brought Society to an awe-inspired halt.
The mere mention of his name left gentlemen, old and young alike, quaking in their shoes.
A summons from the Dangerous Duke was not generally considered a fortunate turn of events.
Father continued spinning his signet ring, his face alight with eager anticipation. “His Grace finds our family quite impressive.”
James doubted that very much. No one with His Grace’s standing could possibly be in awe of the family of a lesser-known earl whose great-grandfather had been nothing more significant than a minor land owner in an insignificant corner of Lancashire.
“His Grace spoke highly of us—of you, as a matter of fact—though I am certain you have no comprehension of how significant that is.” Father leaned over his desk, capturing James in a look of budding excitement.
“This is your opportunity, Tilburn. You’ve captured the notice of a man who holds all of Society in the palm of his hand.
His approval can raise even the lowliest of the ton to places of influence and significance. ”
James cared very little for the shallow and ever-changing opinions of Society’s crème de la crème.
He came to London every Season and took part, to an extent, in the social whirl.
But his focus had ever been on cultivating his place in political circles.
One day when he assumed his father’s title, he wished to undertake his Parliamentary duties with some degree of competency.
That he had found his footing, however comparatively humble, amongst some members of the ton and had received invitations to a few events was nice but not crucial to his happiness.
“His Grace made a suggestion,” Father added, blind to James’s lack of enthusiasm, “and I, of course, accepted on your behalf.”
A lump of apprehension began to form in James’s stomach. “What precisely did he suggest?”
“He spoke of his sister-in-law, the quiet one whose name no one can ever recall.”
James certainly couldn’t put a name to the young lady. Try as he might, he couldn’t even picture her.
“She possesses a dowry of ￡20,000 and is connected to the best families in the land,” Father said.
“How very fortunate for her.” James could think of nothing else to say. Why in heaven’s name was Father discussing the social cache of a lady so wholly unconnected with them?
“His Grace suggested you might show the girl a bit of attention.”
An odd request, to be sure. “I don’t understand.”
“You seldom do,” Father drawled. “The chit has made her bows and will be launched into Society shortly. Unlike the older sister, this sister has raised no anticipation nor eagerness. By all accounts, she is rather plain and ill at ease in the company of others. Her connections will prevent complete failure, but her shortcomings will certainly make marrying the girl off more difficult for His Grace than he would prefer. He is looking to ease her into her debut by asking you to call on her, court her.”
“He wants me to court her?” Surely the duke had meant no such thing.
Eagerness entered Father’s eyes. He had no doubt already begun calculating the good this would do for the standing of the Tilburn family.
His heir would be seen going about with the Duke of Kielder.
Father would likely find a way to be included himself.
Even the tiny climbing boys working for chimney sweeps throughout London couldn’t boast the upward aspirations of the Earl of Techney.
James couldn’t like the idea of this nameless, faceless young lady being a means to Father’s social ends any more than he liked the unfeeling way Father and the duke had apparently spoken of her. But how to wiggle out of it when he knew climbing the ladder of Society was so important to Father?
“You said this was a suggestion, not an edict?”
“His Grace does not make ‘suggestions.’” Father’s pointed look only confirmed what James had heard about the Dangerous Duke.
“He wishes you to be part of her entry into this Season, and you will. Kielder”—Father assumed a great deal addressing the duke so informally.
James doubted His Grace had given him leave to do so—“is likely growing quite determined to prevent disaster. His invitation has given you a rare opportunity, has given this family an opportunity, and you will take advantage of it.”
No. He shook his head at the absurdity of it.
Father must have misunderstood. “The duke certainly might wish to guarantee she has dance partners at the next ball or that someone will drop into their box at the theater, but why would he risk even the appearance of a suitor who would inevitably not come up to scratch?”
Father leaned his elbows on the desk. “I do not believe he would risk that. If you are cognizant of the opportunity he has laid before you and mean to earnestly pursue the girl, His Grace, I am certain, expects you to ‘come up to scratch.’ However, if you do not intend to accept the entirety of his offer and mean only to ease her way in Society a little with your friendship and attentions, he will require you to be very circumspect and not raise any expectations.”
“That is a fine line to walk.” Too fine to suit him.
Father nodded firmly. “But walk it you will. This family has hovered long enough in the shadow of obscurity. The duke and I have served in Parliament together his entire adult life. We have both come to Town every Season. Yet he has never once done anything more than vaguely acknowledge my existence.”
James and His Grace had spoken on several occasions regarding matters of government and international upheaval.
Their political leanings were similar, if not truly identical.
He wouldn’t call them friends by any stretch of the imagination, but neither were they complete strangers.
If Father had failed to make any kind of impression on the duke, that was not James’s fault.
“It is unfortunate your ambitions have not proven fruitful, Father. I am further sorry the girl is beginning her debut under such a cloud of low expectations, but I do not wish to take up the task laid out for me. That is a role far too fraught with pitfalls for my taste.” James rose to his feet.
Father remained calm, collected. “Kielder is expecting you to make an appearance at tea tomorrow during Her Grace’s first at-home of the Season.”
“You shall simply have to inform His Grace that you were presumptive in your assurances.” James offered a dip of his head before moving toward the door.
“You would truly turn your back on this opportunity?” Father’s shock could scarcely have been more apparent in his tone. “Why on earth would you do such a harebrained thing?”
James kept his place a few paces from the doorway but turned to face his sire. “You are asking me to lie. That is something I refuse to do, even for you.”
“I asked nothing of the sort.”
“You did, in fact.” The precise word may not have been spoken, but a lie it would be. “You’ve asked me to call on this young lady, whom I’ve never met and can’t even picture in my mind, and pretend she has captured my attention. Every moment I spent with her would be based on an untruth.”
Father released a short, annoyed sigh. “Well, certainly, if you showed up on her doorstep professing an undying love for her, that she was the answer to all your most earnest prayers.” Father rose as he spoke and crossed nearly to where James stood.
“I am not asking you to do that. Call on her, Tilburn. Make her acquaintance. Treat her to a ride in the park, or tip your hat to her if you see her out shopping or taking ices. These are not lies; these are social niceties.”
While Father had a point, the undertaking still felt less than honest. “Those are niceties I would never have presumed to undertake nor so much as think of.” How could he articulate his discomfort when he himself couldn’t quite put his finger on it?
“We are not connected to that family. They are astonishingly above our touch.”
“And yet the duke has seen fit to close that gap. He has gone so far as to open the door for you to not merely join his circle but, should you seize his invitation, join his family.”
He leaned against the wall near the door, Father standing but a few feet from him. “I cannot like this.”
“I am not insisting you marry Kielder’s sister-in-law; he isn’t truly insisting upon it either. He has created the possibility. Even the very smallest fulfillment of his request would be little more than being a friend to someone who is sorely in need of one. That is a fine thing to do, is it not?”
It was an unusually thoughtful sentiment from Father, who generally overlooked those he felt deserved to be neglected.
“Surely you are enough of a gentleman that you would not turn your back on a lady in distress.”
How could he argue with that? And yet he wavered. “Something about this still feels wrong.”
Father crossed to the sideboard, unstopping a decanter of sherry. “What the Duke of Kielder has declared right is not for us to deem wrong.”
“Are you certain you are not confusing His Grace with the Almighty?”