beneath her as she said, “That depends, sir, entirely upon your methods of ensuring it.”
It felt as though a bare, live wire had been let loose in the carriage, sizzling and snapping. His grandfather and aunt’s gazes clashed for a long moment, then Grandfather looked at Justin again. “This girl, Justin.”
As if she were just a girl. As if the question were so simple. Justin wanted to look away, but he knew his grandfather expected eye contact. “I don’t know, sir. When I think of the future, I can imagine no other woman at my side through the years. But I . . . She loves me, but it has long been as a brother, a friend. Her feelings have not grown as mine have, and I fear if I push her, declare myself too soon, I would ruin any chances I have.”
The duke’s faded brown eyes went soft. “I understand. But I would know, before I die, that you have chosen a worthy woman to assume the title of duchess. You have always spoken of this girl as you have none other, and now that she is here . . . Well, why do you think I dragged myself from the comforts of Ralin?”
Must every conversation come back to death? “You could yet recover, Grandfather. There is no need to speak of—”
“Hush, my boy.” The duke leaned his head back, gripped his cane. “I am tired, and I have the peace that I leave Stafford in good hands. It is enough. I am ready, whenever the good Lord decides my time is complete.”
Justin could not say the same. He was not ready to let go of his grandfather. Not so close on the heels of losing his father. His gaze now sought the window, though he looked at it rather than through it. “I remember thinking perhaps I could lure Father home for my wedding, mere minutes before . . .”
Grandfather snorted, drawing his focus back inside. “Hewould not have come. You ought to have realized that after all these years. If he did not return for his own brother’s funeral, he—”
“Why should he have?” Aunt Caro shifted, folded her arms over her middle. Her face looked as yielding as granite, and from this angle Justin could see her tension in the strained muscles of her neck. “Edward never gave a thought to William. Frankly, sir, nor did you, other than as a stopgap heir. You were far more concerned with molding Justin into your image.” She reached over, patting Justin’s hand as if the show of affection could soften the words. Then she turned eyes on him that were as scorching as blue flame. “Did William ever tell you?”
Something sank into Justin’s stomach. It was too numb to be called fear. “Tell me what?”
“Caroline.” The duke put a world of forbidding into her name.
“He deserves to know how much William loved him. He needs to know—”
“He already knows that, and it’s all he needs to. You will keep your word. So long as there is breath left in my body, you will bite your tongue.” To punctuate it, Grandfather lifted his cane and then drove it back to the floor. “Are we understood?”
Now her fingers settled over Justin’s and gripped. Hard. “Yes, sir.”
The rock in Justin’s stomach doubled in size. “What? You cannot lead into a subject like that only to abandon it.”
But his aunt merely sniffled and averted her face.
“Grandfather?”
The duke’s hard gaze turned on him, softening only the slightest degree. “It is nothing to worry over, Justin. A woman’s nonsense. No more.”
Aunt Caro wasn’t given to nonsense—she was given to faith, had been the one to teach him to pray, to seek the Father, toalways trust in Him. And that place inside where his faith was born quivered now, warning him that whatever this truth was his aunt thought he needed to know, it was far from nonsense.
But it seemed he wouldn’t learn it while his grandfather ruled the house.
Nine
D eirdre scurried behind Mrs. Doyle, her pulse quickening. “Will they stay the night, then?”
Mrs. Doyle snatched a lamp from the stand near the passageway and lit it.
It felt as though a bare, live wire had been let loose in the carriage, sizzling and snapping. His grandfather and aunt’s gazes clashed for a long moment, then Grandfather looked at Justin again. “This girl, Justin.”
As if she were just a girl. As if the question were so simple. Justin wanted to look away, but he knew his grandfather expected eye contact. “I don’t know, sir. When I think of the future, I can imagine no other woman at my side through the years. But I . . . She loves me, but it has long been as a brother, a friend. Her feelings have not grown as mine have, and I fear if I push her, declare myself too soon, I would ruin any chances I have.”
The duke’s faded brown eyes went soft. “I understand. But I would know, before I die, that you have chosen a worthy woman to assume the title of duchess. You have always spoken of this girl as you have none other, and now that she is here . . . Well, why do you think I dragged myself from the comforts of Ralin?”
Must every conversation come back to death? “You could yet recover, Grandfather. There is no need to speak of—”
“Hush, my boy.” The duke leaned his head back, gripped his cane. “I am tired, and I have the peace that I leave Stafford in good hands. It is enough. I am ready, whenever the good Lord decides my time is complete.”
Justin could not say the same. He was not ready to let go of his grandfather. Not so close on the heels of losing his father. His gaze now sought the window, though he looked at it rather than through it. “I remember thinking perhaps I could lure Father home for my wedding, mere minutes before . . .”
Grandfather snorted, drawing his focus back inside. “Hewould not have come. You ought to have realized that after all these years. If he did not return for his own brother’s funeral, he—”
“Why should he have?” Aunt Caro shifted, folded her arms over her middle. Her face looked as yielding as granite, and from this angle Justin could see her tension in the strained muscles of her neck. “Edward never gave a thought to William. Frankly, sir, nor did you, other than as a stopgap heir. You were far more concerned with molding Justin into your image.” She reached over, patting Justin’s hand as if the show of affection could soften the words. Then she turned eyes on him that were as scorching as blue flame. “Did William ever tell you?”
Something sank into Justin’s stomach. It was too numb to be called fear. “Tell me what?”
“Caroline.” The duke put a world of forbidding into her name.
“He deserves to know how much William loved him. He needs to know—”
“He already knows that, and it’s all he needs to. You will keep your word. So long as there is breath left in my body, you will bite your tongue.” To punctuate it, Grandfather lifted his cane and then drove it back to the floor. “Are we understood?”
Now her fingers settled over Justin’s and gripped. Hard. “Yes, sir.”
The rock in Justin’s stomach doubled in size. “What? You cannot lead into a subject like that only to abandon it.”
But his aunt merely sniffled and averted her face.
“Grandfather?”
The duke’s hard gaze turned on him, softening only the slightest degree. “It is nothing to worry over, Justin. A woman’s nonsense. No more.”
Aunt Caro wasn’t given to nonsense—she was given to faith, had been the one to teach him to pray, to seek the Father, toalways trust in Him. And that place inside where his faith was born quivered now, warning him that whatever this truth was his aunt thought he needed to know, it was far from nonsense.
But it seemed he wouldn’t learn it while his grandfather ruled the house.
Nine
D eirdre scurried behind Mrs. Doyle, her pulse quickening. “Will they stay the night, then?”
Mrs. Doyle snatched a lamp from the stand near the passageway and lit it.
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