Page 17 of The Good Duke
The servant yanked his gaze to the folders on his lap and proceeded to fumble through them.
All the while, he stammered explanations as to why he’d singlehandedly decided to deny funds Simon had specifically allocated for that specific sponsorship.
“Did you believe there would be no accountability? Did you believe you were free to directly override the instructions sent by your employer? Byme?” Simon’s voice emerged with a deadly calm, his cadence measured. In his head, he heard the clicking of the metronome, keeping his speech even and flowing.
“It was the wisest course, Your Grace,” Grady rebuked. “The Paris performance saw significant cuts after just three performances. It was filled with issues.”
The other man’s arrogance, combined with his chastising tones, displayed Grady’s usual pomposity that would have once set Simon to stammering.
Simon curled his lips into a hard, unforgiving smile. “Would you have me believe in my absence, in addition to a head for figures, you’ve become something of a connoisseur of the theatre?” he drawled.
“Generally, no.” Grady scrambled to the edge of his seat. “However, given my role, it behooves me to be aware of those ventures which might prove otherwise calamitous.”
“And you decided this one wascalamitous?”
Grady’s former view of his employer likely accounted for his inability to recognize a rhetorical question.
“It was fraught, filled with themes that are evendangerous, Your Grace.”
“Dangerous?”
His man-of-affairs nodded.
With a renewed display of calm, Grady closed his folders and set them down on the chair beside him. “Rossini has created quite a scandalous piece about a figure who symbolizes the struggle for political and—”
“Individual freedom,” he said, interrupting the other man. “I assure you I’m well aware of the composer, performers, and details surrounding everything from the inception to the reception.”
Unlike most lords or ladies who set themselves up as patrons of the arts and then merely attended performances to gossip and gawk, Simon had both an appreciation and understanding of the theatre that defied those superficial views.
Removing the already gleaming, wire-rimmed monocle from his nose, Grady proceeded to pull free a kerchief and clean that already flawless lens.
“Your Grace,” his man-of-affairs went on in the beleaguered tones of a tutor who’d doled out too many of the same lecture to a recalcitrant charge, “there are certainly more appropriate endeavors for you to invest your monies in.”
Simon didn’t rush to speak. Rather, he merely pressed his still steepled fingertips together. He pressed and relaxed. That soothing, rhythmic habit he’d developed and employed as a calming mechanism had served him well in battling his galling stutter. He filled his lungs with a breath and let it out slowly; that rhythmic breath helped to center him.
Grady still remembered the man Simon had been. He, along with every other man in England, recalled Simon Broadbent, the namby-pamby, stammering earl. The man all of London thought had no backbone because of his speech.
“You are, of course, correct,” Simon said coolly, and the smug servant grew an inch under that acknowledgement. “With that being true, my first, best, and wisest course is to direct my funds toward greater, more valuable investments—beginning with the position of man-of-affairs.”
Grady was already nodding and taking notes…before those words registered.
With a frown, the servant glanced up. “Your Grace?” he croaked.
“Your services will no longer be required.” And when the other man continued to sit there, gawking back at him, he dropped an elbow on the surface of his desk and leaned in. “Did I stutter?” he taunted when Grady remained soundless and motionless. “Let me try again: You’re sacked. Dismissed from my employment. Discharged.”
“B-but…b-but…”
Simon took mercy. “Grady, you were always loyal to the late Earl of Primly.”
Grady was over a decade older than Simon; he’d started with the former earl while Simon was at school. Behind his father’s back, Grady had been as much of a bastard to Simon as the bullies he’d had to face in school. Grady had openly bemoaned the day Simon would become the earl. It was one thing for Simon to be bullied by his peers; it was quite another to be bullied by a grown man.
Simon still to this day didn’t know why he’d kept the bastard on.
Nay, he did. He’d done so out of loyalty to his late father. Simon’s respect, devotion, and love for his late father marked theonlyreason he’d returned in the first place. Simon had come to appreciate, however, that he could honor his father’s legacy without employing a man who’d been a bastard to Simon through the years.
Grady must have taken Simon’s deep contemplation for a sign that he’d wavered in his decision, for hope filled the man-of-affairs’ eyes.
“I held your father in the utmost esteem. Very few would have entrusted the role of man-of-affairs to a man just out of Cambridge, and with no experience, and yet your father did, and I demonstrated with my work, and my regard and respect for the late earl, which should factorsomein your decision, Your Grace.”
