Page 78 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
A prickle ran up John’s spine when he heard Harvey’s reference to the old man. John did feel more and more like him, yet he was feeling less and less in control of his life.
John stood, moved to the window, and then looked out onto the street.
There was a young lad hovering by the railings outside the property next door, staring up at Harvey’s offices.
Well, at least John knew who his shadow was, just a boy.
With his back still to Harvey, he said, ‘I wish you to write to all of my stewards, and all those managing my business ventures. They know Wareham has gone and that I gave him notice but I have not explained why.’ John turned around. ‘Tell them… No. Warn them. I expect to be dealt with openly and honestly, and in return I will manage them and my affairs fairly and with integrity. But disloyal service will bring equal rewards.’
Harvey reached for paper, quill and ink and began to make a brief note. He understood, John knew, but there was no harm in underlining the point.
‘I am not my grandfather. They will have to learn to deal with me, and you may tell them that in the coming months I will be visiting all my properties and reviewing in detail all my investments. I expect to find them in good order, and I shall not give notice of my arrival.’
Harvey’s head lifted and he smiled. ‘I said Your Grace has the look of the old Duke not that Your Grace is like him. They will not have mistaken it, but I shall happily make it clear.’
John valued Harvey. He was one of the few people he felt safe letting his guard down with. Perhaps that was why he was here. Yet John realised then that Harvey was one of his older staff, and there would come a day soon when John would lose Harvey, and then what? John sighed and then admitted, ‘I would be lost without you, Mr Harvey…’ He chose his words carefully. ‘But one day I suppose I shall have to manage… I… I wonder if you have ever thought of working with anyone to prepare them to take over when the time comes…’
Harvey’s eyebrow’s lifted but John could see he had taken no offence. ‘My clerks know most of my affairs, but you are right, as ever, Your Grace. I will put some time into finding a suitable replacement and set about ensuring he is capable.’
‘Thank you.’
A knock on the door marked the end of their conversation as a clerk entered.
As John walked home, he thought of Phillip, and an idea began to take shape.
Phillip had already shown his loyalty by raising the issue of Wareham’s loan. Perhaps Phillip could be the one to play understudy to Harvey? That would surely throw Katherine into John’s path again at some point.
Pain gripped about his heart as images of Katherine filled his thoughts once more.
Here he was seeking men of integrity, when he had shown none to Katherine. If she ever did see him again she would most likely cut him dead.
When John reached home he handed his hat and gloves to Finch and walked into the library.
He was a liar. He was perfectly capable of feeling. He felt anger, gratitude, disgust and loss. He had been taught not to. He had tried to pretend he did not, then failed in France, and hidden himself away in Egypt so he might have no stimulation. But emotions were there; he had feelings. Love and hate and everything in between.
One of his sketchbooks from Egypt was lying on the desk; he had been glancing through it last evening, trying to distract his thoughts.
He sat and flicked through the images of pyramids and temples, until he reached the sketches he had drawn last night, of Katherine. He picked up his charcoal and began refining them.
‘Your Grace, may I fetch you anything?’
John turned the page over so Finch could not see and lifted his gaze. ‘Yes, a brandy, please, Finch.’
When Finch left, John’s eyes caught on his grandfather’s portrait. ‘I am not you,’ he whispered harshly at the portrait. ‘I feel.’
As his gaze dropped, it fell on the pile of invitations discarded on his desk.
His mother and step-father had come to town five days ago. They were planning to bring Mary out during the autumn. They were staying with Edward’s brother, Robert.
John should be hurt that they had chosen to stay in his uncle’s smaller residence. He was not. He had not wished them here.
When they arrived, they had sent him an open invitation to call. He had not gone.
His longing for Katherine rose up again. He felt like he was dying internally without her.
Pushing aside the sketchbook, he picked up paper and a quill. He had to say something more. He wished her here. Perhaps if he asked again?
I miss you still. I wish you were here with me. Have you thought about my offer? If you have changed your mind? Well, just write to me, whenever you wish, whenever you decide. My feelings are unchanged, my offer is not withdrawn.
