Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Nothing, rather. I think they were alike in so many ways. They knew how to get what they wanted from the opposite sex when it came to romance, but neither of them knew how to go any deeper. In truth, she never had any use for a son, but one never outgrows their need for a mother. Privately, I’ve always held the opinion that that visit is what shipwrecked him.
The first abandonment stung, but at least he could imagine that she was avoiding our father. This time, it was him.”
Harriet didn’t know what to say to any of this. It was precisely the sort of information she’d been seeking and yet it hurt like the devil to hear. Furthermore, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do about it now that she had it. Feel badly for him? Understand why he couldn’t love her?
“Pardon my saying this, but how did you get to be so …”
“So much more astute than the rest of my family? I dare say it’s a surprise I’m not the by-blow!
” He laughed at himself, which resulted in an unfortunate coughing fit.
John looked immediately older after it happened, subdued almost at the reminder of his frailty.
Harriet’s first inclination was to pretend as if nothing had happened, assuming that was the kindest way forward. But something stopped her.
“You really must stop sneaking so much brandy into your tea,” she teased when the coughing stopped. She saw no spirits of any kind in the room, but she hoped dearly the jest read as such.
The joy on his face afterward was worth the risk. “You know, you’re the first person to tease me about it. My disease.” He said it happily, his eyes twinkling again.
“I am?”
“Well, I don’t have much company, as you so kindly pointed out.” She opened her mouth to defend herself and he waved her off with a grin. “But you know, everyone else is either counting down the days till I die—my father—or in total denial—my brother.”
“He doesn’t believe you to be ill?”
“He believes it on some level, otherwise he wouldn’t insist on keeping me here. But he doesn’t accept it. He stays away because, and perhaps this is the poet in me—I am prone to being quite generous in my assessments of my brother—because he thinks he’s stolen my life. And he’s ashamed.”
“Stolen your—”
“He thinks he’s living out the life I was supposed to have. Hence why he didn’t want to marry and why once he did, he’s been careful to avoid me.”
“But that’s—”
“Absurd? Yes. But such is grief,” John said with a shrug, his tone belying the casualness of the gesture.
“Oh, John, that’s awful.”
“Most things are,” he said again, growing more flippant the more emotional he became.
“I’m ever so sorry.”
“You’re the true victim of his lug-headedness too.
He promised me once, when I was very ill and he was a blubbering mess at my bedside—he assumed, as many do, that because I was sick, I couldn’t hear—that he’d never take my place.
That he’d never marry, or have children, that the line would die with him if I never got to be duke.
Which of course has the dual benefit of enraging our father.
God only knows how Alexander thought he could manage to escape matrimony, handsome devil that he is. ”
“He—That? That’s his reason for—?”
“My father had no use for him, and so Alexander spent his childhood making sure that he had no need for my father. He left me to be the heir, and avoided anything to do with the dukedom. Then I got sick, and my father had no use for me, and that really bothered Alexander, so he took up every vice he could find and made every investment he could afford to distance himself from the family name. Which actually worked rather well for everyone, not the least the women of London. And now neither of them knows what to do with me, so they keep me here.”
“Keep you here?”
“My father to wait out my death, and Alexander to magically prevent it with fresh air. Of course, I’m an adult, I could leave any time, I suppose. But to do what?”
“What do you want to do?” The question rose out of Harriet’s throat on instinct alone, and she was quite grateful for it.
She’d learned too much about Alexander to feel anything other than indignant, both toward him and on his behalf.
But before she could sort out her feelings on the matter of her husband, she wanted to do something for John.
“I hope I’m not overstepping. I often do.
But it seems a shame to me that you’ve been stuck here when you aren’t dying. ”
“I am dying, I assure you. Just not quite so quickly as my family thinks.”
“Well, what is it that you’d like to do? I’m availing myself of anything you might want. I have little power and not as much money as you might think at my disposal, but I’m rather good at talking people into agreeing with me.”
“Perfect, I’ve got plenty of money and I’m still a duke’s son. Together we might just be unstoppable.”
“Yes, now we only need to think of what it is we want.”
“I know what I want. I want to go to a ball.”
“You haven’t been?” Harriet asked, shocked.
“I got sick when I was nineteen, and before then I hadn’t seen any reason to go. I wasn’t interested in finding a wife.”
“Not even a public ball?”
“Don’t sound so horrified.”
“Oh no, if anything, I’m envious. I find balls dreadful. Of course, you must go and experience that for yourself. I know just the one.”
“You’ll have to teach me how to dance. It’s been years since I’ve learned. I’m sure they don’t even dance the minuet anymore.”
“Oh dear, I fear … well …”
“Bad news about the minuet, then?”
“It’s only … I’m glad you say you have a lot of money. We’re going to need it for the dance instructor.”