Page 7 of To Dare a Duke

“Yes,” he agreed. “I must. I’ve already said I will find a wife, haven’t I?”

She held his gaze, unblinking. He let her look, wishing she could see the extent of the damage wrought by one he’d thought he’d loved. If Helena could only see, then she would never say such things to him again.

“And will you not care for her, Robert? Will she not share in your life?”

“Did Father and Mother share each other’s lives?” he said, his tone scathing.

“They were fond of each other, at least,” she said, though she did not meet his eye now.

She was no fool. Surely she knew love was a fairy story, a lie told to fool people into doing foolish things. Yet, if it had been real, if it had been something attainable, he would want her to find it. Of all people, she deserved it, and was worthy of it.

“Well, then. Perhaps I will find someone to be fond of, too.”

Helena frowned, the expression sitting ill on a face that was too ready to laugh, too open and honest for its own good. “Will that be enough? Will that make you happy?”

Robert snorted and shook his head. “Stop trying to mend what’s been broken, love. It’s beyond repair, the damage done. I don’t aim for happiness, but I’ll be content enough, and so will my duchess, I promise you. She’ll have everything she could possibly desire.”

His sister’s gaze was unwavering, unnerving.

“Except for you,” she said.

Robert got to his feet, unwilling to explore this conversation any further. What was done was done; there was no undoing it, no going back. Helena was right about one thing. It was time to move forward, and that was exactly what he would do.

Chapter 3

And so, it begins …

Courage, dearest.

―Excerpt from a letter from Miss Prunella Chuffington-Smythe to Miss Alice Dowding.

***

9th April. Otford. Kent. 1814

Robert grinned at the shock on his uncle’s face as a deferential butler showed him into his office.

“Robert!”

“Hello, Uncle Charles,” he said, moving to shake his uncle’s hand. “You’re looking well.”

The man snorted and returned a dark look. “If by well, you mean old and fat, yes, nephew, I would have to agree.”

“Nonsense,” Robert replied. “You’re a fine figure of a man still. I hope I look half so good at your age.”

“What flummery,” Charles replied, laughing, though he looked pleased enough by the words. “Well, and what brings you to this neck of the woods? There’s naught amiss, I hope?” he asked, growing serious at once and sitting a little straighter.

“No, no, sir, nothing of the sort,” Robert said, smiling. “I have come for some advice.”

“Really?” Charles frowned, his expression so sceptical that Robert couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

His uncle returned a look that would have put him in a quake as a young man. As it was, it still made him feel as if he was eight years old and had just been caught stealing jam tarts from the kitchens.

“Well, it’s true,” he said, a trifle defensive now, knowing he’d never listened to his uncle’s advice before now. More fool him.

His uncle beamed at him, however, and it was impossible to feel irritated with him. Robert felt a rush of fondness. His own father had been a decent enough sort, if a little remote, but his uncle had been the one who’d spoilt him and made a fuss. Charles had taught him to ride and to shoot, and had taken pride in his achievements where his father had simply accepted them as his due. To his sire, Robert was the heir to a dukedom, and anything less than excellence was a failure. Yet he’d never been beaten or ill-treated, and occasionally his father had been moved to tell him he was proud of him. Compared to many of his ilk, he’d been lucky.