Chapter 6 #5
“Again?” The duke always enjoyed listening to tales of his youngest son's escapades, clearly feeling that he and William had a great deal in common. “Tell me.” He gestured for the nurse to vacate the chair she occupied.
As the nurse left the room, Damon sat by the duke. “You look well,” he commented.
“Yes, I'm quite well.” Frederick reached behind his pillow, withdrew a silver flask, and poured a liberal amount of brandy into his hot milk.
“You never change,” Damon said ruefully, shaking his head as his father offered the flask to him.
The duke seemed momentarily disappointed by his son's refusal of the brandy, then shrugged in resignation. “Neither do you.” He downed a large swallow of brandy-flavored milk and smacked his lips. “Now…about William?”
As matter-of-factly as possible, Damon enlightened him on the events of the past two days. As Damon had expected, the account seemed to entertain Frederick vastly. At first he seemed mildly displeased, but that was soon replaced by a misplaced sense of masculine pride.
“Foolish, self-indulgent boy…” the duke said, chuckling. “William has the morals of a tomcat.”
Damon scowled. “Is his behavior any surprise, after the example you set for him all these years?”
“Ah…here it comes,” Frederick said resignedly, gesturing with his half-finished milk. “Try to lay this at my door, will you?”
It had always infuriated Damon that his father was so unrepentant, so completely unwilling to accept responsibility for his actions. “I'm concerned that William is following in your footsteps,” he muttered. “He appears to have the same tastes for whoring and gambling as you.”
“And if he does? What is the worst that could happen to him?”
“He could end up being shot in a duel, or owing a fortune in debt.”
His father regarded him with maddening indifference. “I shouldn't worry about debt. The money always comes, one way or another.”
“How well I know.” Damon was filled with bitter sarcasm.
“It came easily enough to you eighteen years ago, didn't it? You brought the family to the brink of poverty and gave Lord Hargate the perfect opportunity to sail in with the offer of a large dowry. All you had to do was marry your seven year-old son to his daughter, who was barely out of nappies at the time.”
Frederick sighed and set his empty glass on the bedside table.
“You may blame me for anything you wish…
including William's predicament and your own dissatisfaction with life.
I have no doubt I wasn't the father I should have been. But the fact is, I did what I had to do. Why must you dwell on the past instead of looking toward the future?”
“Because for years I've had to dispose of your messes, and now it appears I'm to do the same for William—and I'm damned tired of it!”
“I suspect that in a way you rather like it,” the duke said mildly.
“It makes you feel superior to conduct your life with all the propriety and responsibility that William and I never seem to attain.” He yawned and settled back against the pillows.
“Heaven help poor Julia when you do find her.
I'm afraid no wife will ever be quite straitlaced enough to suit you, even if she is a Hargate.”
Damon opened his mouth to argue, but shut it suddenly as an echo of Julia's voice ran through his mind.
What could possibly come of a relationship between us?
…I've turned myself into someone who is completely unsuitable…
You would want me to give up everything I've worked for, everything I need to be happy…
The duke smiled slightly as he saw the troubled expression on his son's face. “You know I'm right, don't you? Perhaps what you need is to take your example from William. A man should have a few weaknesses…otherwise he becomes a deadly bore.”
Seeing that his father appeared to be tiring, Damon stood and slanted a look of exasperation at him.
There were few times in his life when the duke had actually bothered to dispense some advice to him, and none of it had ever made sense.
“I'll visit you again in the morning before William and I leave.”
Frederick nodded. “Send the nurse in to attend me.” He paused and added thoughtfully, “You know, you remind me of Lord Hargate in his youth. He was just as self-controlled, and every bit as determined to make everyone else conform to his notions of what was right.”
Damon was momentarily outraged, revolted at the idea that any similarity could be drawn between him and Lord Hargate.
But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if there were any truth to it.
Even more disturbing was the possibility that Julia would agree.
Was he so rigid and domineering that she feared he would make her life into a repetition of her childhood?
All of a sudden he was fiercely impatient to return to London and make Julia understand that he wouldn't try to change her, or take anything away from her…
but was that true? He couldn't guarantee that he would easily accept her career, the theatrical world she occupied, or her stubborn independence.
Perhaps the best thing was to set Julia free…
but that seemed to be the most impossible choice of all.