message in time, but I wanted to be there. Know that.”
It wouldn’t have helped, not then. But knowing Cayton had wanted to come soothed now. “Thank you, James.”
They said no more, just made their way to the end of the platform and the door that one of Grandfather’s servants opened. He would travel with a whole retinue. Not because he needed anyone but his aging valet, but to keep up appearances. To make this crowd of onlookers take note and realize someone of import had arrived.
They looked. They whispered. When someone recognized the crest on the side of the car, they exclaimed.
Perhaps Father had the right idea while he’d hidden in Monaco—ignore the station, ignore the title, ignore the expectations. Be whomever he wanted to be. Justin would never have that luxury. But neither did he intend to make such a fuss wherever he went.
He drew in a long coal-dusted breath and clenched his teeth against another onslaught of emotion when Grandfather stepped down. He managed the two stairs with only the assistance of his silver-tipped cane, but the servant was there to make sure he didn’t fall. His valet materialized behind him with concern etching his brows. Both of Justin’s aunts soon rushed out to flank him.
The duke’s clothes hung on him, evidence of another bout of too-quick weight loss. His face had gone gaunt. His hair—brown two years ago, grey two months ago—was white as the chalk cliffs.
Justin sucked in a breath to keep the pain of it from his face. “I was only gone a few weeks.”
His cousin jerked a nod, his face tight with worry too. Of course it would be. Having spent most of his growing-up years at Ralin Castle after his father died, Cayton was even closer to Grandfather than Justin was. The duke was more father to him than grandfather. Did he ever resent that Justin was heir to the duchy, just because Cayton was born to the duke’s daughter rather than one of his sons?
Grandfather looked up once his footing on the platform was sure, and he gave them a smile. “My boys. You both made it—good. I worried we had not given you enough notice.”
“Of course we made it.” Cayton leaned over to kiss his mother’s cheek and grip Grandfather’s free hand. “Your favorite room is ready at Azerley Hall. We can—”
“Soon.” The duke’s gaze went over Cayton’s shoulder, to Justin. He lifted snowy brows. “We will stop at Whitby Park first, for tea. I will meet this princess of yours before I die, Justin.”
He knew not whether he should smile at the mention of Brook, sigh at how Cayton bristled at being dismissed, or shake his head at the mention of Grandfather’s death. He settled for a nod. “Baroness—Whitby is certain she’s his daughter. She is eager to meet you as well, sir.”
When the duke took a step forward, they all moved with him, a careful ballet set in time to his faltering stride. “What conveyance have we? Did you bring your new automobile, James?”
“I did,” his cousin replied with a smile in his voice, “as it is large enough for us all.”
Justin fell in beside Aunt Caro. With her silver-and-gold hair, her bluer-than-sapphire eyes, she was what he imagined his mother would have looked like now, had she lived. He smiled. “I accepted Whitby’s offer of a carriage. Though wait until you see the Rolls-Royce that Fa—” His throat closed off. His nostrils flared.
Grandfather sent a quick look to Cayton, then focused on Justin. “I will ride with you to Whitby Park, Justin. Then we will all proceed to Azerley Hall together after tea.”
Aunt Caro patted the duke’s arm. “I will join you. It will give Susan time to question James on which young ladies he intends to keep in contact with now that the Season has ended.”
Justin forced the pain of his father’s memory back, down, away, and dredged up a grin. “I believe he has set his sights on Lady Ramsey’s younger daughter, Lady Melissa.”
Aunt Susan lifted her brows. “Is that so?”
It wouldn’t have helped, not then. But knowing Cayton had wanted to come soothed now. “Thank you, James.”
They said no more, just made their way to the end of the platform and the door that one of Grandfather’s servants opened. He would travel with a whole retinue. Not because he needed anyone but his aging valet, but to keep up appearances. To make this crowd of onlookers take note and realize someone of import had arrived.
They looked. They whispered. When someone recognized the crest on the side of the car, they exclaimed.
Perhaps Father had the right idea while he’d hidden in Monaco—ignore the station, ignore the title, ignore the expectations. Be whomever he wanted to be. Justin would never have that luxury. But neither did he intend to make such a fuss wherever he went.
He drew in a long coal-dusted breath and clenched his teeth against another onslaught of emotion when Grandfather stepped down. He managed the two stairs with only the assistance of his silver-tipped cane, but the servant was there to make sure he didn’t fall. His valet materialized behind him with concern etching his brows. Both of Justin’s aunts soon rushed out to flank him.
The duke’s clothes hung on him, evidence of another bout of too-quick weight loss. His face had gone gaunt. His hair—brown two years ago, grey two months ago—was white as the chalk cliffs.
Justin sucked in a breath to keep the pain of it from his face. “I was only gone a few weeks.”
His cousin jerked a nod, his face tight with worry too. Of course it would be. Having spent most of his growing-up years at Ralin Castle after his father died, Cayton was even closer to Grandfather than Justin was. The duke was more father to him than grandfather. Did he ever resent that Justin was heir to the duchy, just because Cayton was born to the duke’s daughter rather than one of his sons?
Grandfather looked up once his footing on the platform was sure, and he gave them a smile. “My boys. You both made it—good. I worried we had not given you enough notice.”
“Of course we made it.” Cayton leaned over to kiss his mother’s cheek and grip Grandfather’s free hand. “Your favorite room is ready at Azerley Hall. We can—”
“Soon.” The duke’s gaze went over Cayton’s shoulder, to Justin. He lifted snowy brows. “We will stop at Whitby Park first, for tea. I will meet this princess of yours before I die, Justin.”
He knew not whether he should smile at the mention of Brook, sigh at how Cayton bristled at being dismissed, or shake his head at the mention of Grandfather’s death. He settled for a nod. “Baroness—Whitby is certain she’s his daughter. She is eager to meet you as well, sir.”
When the duke took a step forward, they all moved with him, a careful ballet set in time to his faltering stride. “What conveyance have we? Did you bring your new automobile, James?”
“I did,” his cousin replied with a smile in his voice, “as it is large enough for us all.”
Justin fell in beside Aunt Caro. With her silver-and-gold hair, her bluer-than-sapphire eyes, she was what he imagined his mother would have looked like now, had she lived. He smiled. “I accepted Whitby’s offer of a carriage. Though wait until you see the Rolls-Royce that Fa—” His throat closed off. His nostrils flared.
Grandfather sent a quick look to Cayton, then focused on Justin. “I will ride with you to Whitby Park, Justin. Then we will all proceed to Azerley Hall together after tea.”
Aunt Caro patted the duke’s arm. “I will join you. It will give Susan time to question James on which young ladies he intends to keep in contact with now that the Season has ended.”
Justin forced the pain of his father’s memory back, down, away, and dredged up a grin. “I believe he has set his sights on Lady Ramsey’s younger daughter, Lady Melissa.”
Aunt Susan lifted her brows. “Is that so?”
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