Nothing Like a Duke by Jane Ashford

Author:Jane Ashford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2017-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

“The drama of life is more vivid than any play,” Randolph said later that night. The two brothers sat on either side of the library fire, glasses of brandy in hand. Plato lay at their feet with his dark head resting on crossed paws. Most of the household had gone to bed, and the place was very quiet.

It occurred to Robert that Randolph had seen a great variety of life by this time, in his profession. Parishioners no doubt came to him for guidance, and he was undoubtedly good at giving it.

Robert remembered an incident from the summer when he was eight and Randolph ten. They’d joined a mob of estate children playing king of the hill, a scrum of boys shouting and jostling and exulting in the July heat. Some of them began mocking the son of the local miller, who had a stutter and declared himself k-k-k-king. Robert was chagrined to realize that he’d forgotten the lad’s name.

He and Randolph had both objected to the teasing, and it had stopped. And that had been that for Robert. He learned later that Randolph visited the boy during subsequent school vacations and helped him overcome the stutter, without telling anyone that he was doing it. Robert had thought ever since that Randolph was the kindest of his brothers.

Still, he hesitated. Robert Gresham wasn’t accustomed to asking for advice. He wasn’t accustomed to needing it. He glanced down and noticed that Plato was staring at him, almost as if urging him on. “I wonder…” he said.

Randolph’s head came up as if he’d heard some unusual sound. He turned and met Robert’s eyes. There was no sign of the amusement that so often danced in his blue gaze.

Robert considered a moment longer, then plunged ahead. “I suppose, as a clergyman, you hear about all sorts of problems.”

“People sometimes bring their concerns to me,” Randolph agreed.

“Have any of them been plagued by bad memories? So strongly that they can’t shake them off? That they…intrude against the person’s will?”

Robert endured a long silent assessment. Finally, seeming satisfied, Randolph said, “A man or a woman?”

“Does it matter?”

His brother shrugged. “The approach might be different. If you’re speaking of a man, the cause is often battle. If it’s a woman, usually a more personal attack.”

“Nothing like that,” Robert said. And then he wondered. Flora had been overpowered and imprisoned. “A woman,” he said.

“Miss Jennings?”

“Why would you say so?” Robert was wary of revealing confidences.

“First, because there is something…dimmed about her, at bottom,” replied his brother. “And second because of the way you care for her.”

“There are times when I find our family entirely too talkative,” Robert complained.

“Gossip was hardly necessary,” Randolph said. “It’s obvious, seeing the two of you together. Quite lovely, in fact. I envy you. And it must be very strong, for you to go so far as asking for help.”

“I ask for help when necessary.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Nonsense.”

“What about that time at Eton, when you rowed across the Thames alone to retrieve those cricket bats?”

“That was fifteen years ago, Randolph!”

“I’d have gone with you.

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