Page 33 of The Truth About Dukes
She’d chosen the nursery for this confrontation—for this discussion, rather—knowing the sleeping baby would keep Quinn quiet. The infant would also ensure Constance did not lose her resolve.
“A hyena?” Quinn began lining up the books on the shelf in order of height. “A peer of the realm, a duke no less, and you liken me to a hyena.”
“You’re putting the books out of order, Quinn. Althea arranges them by title alphabetically, so she can find the story she wants without having to hunt through the whole shelf.”
He continued putting shorter books to his left, taller to his right. “Now she’ll have to actually peruse her collection of tales for a change but without having to endure the sight of disorder. What tale are you about to tell me?”
“Your promise first.” Constance could withstand a raised voice from anybody except her brothers.
“I will not shout,” Quinn said, jammingRobinson Crusoenext toPilgrim’s Progress. “I will not pace about as the hyenas in the royal menagerie do when feeding time approaches. I will not clench my jaw like a man striving to spare his dear sister bad language. Satisfied?”
“Thank you.” Constance stood behind a stout rocking chair, though putting furniture between her and her brother betrayed how nervous she was. Damn Jack Wentworth for that.
“I have reason to believe Rothhaven will approach you about offering me his addresses.”
Quinn left off dis-arranging the storybooks. “Ibegyour pardon.” Quinn alone of Jack Wentworth’s children had never begged anyone for anything. He wasn’t begging now.
Constance met his glower, having endured the same fusillade many times before. “I am well past marriageable age, His Grace is of an appropriate station, and his suit will be agreeable to me.”
“Rothhaven is half mad, Constance. Bad enough that our sister is marrying into such a family.”
She shoved the chair aside. “You snob.You perishing hypocrite.Don’t make me ashamed of you.”
If she’d slapped him, Quinn could not look more surprised. “I seek to protect you from an unfortunate union, and you insult me for it?”
She wanted to do much more than insult him, but the moment called for reason. “You and Jane are tolerated because of your titles. Doors must open to you, but everywhere you see judgment, veiled censure, and hostility—from people who don’t know you at all.
“Those people know the gossip about your upbringing,” Constance went on. “They nearly killed you with their determination to cling to petty prejudices where you’re concerned.They have never exchanged a word with you. They nonetheless think you unfit to break bread with them because once upon a time—to survive—you did honest work with your bare hands.”
She’d crossed the room to face Quinn directly, lest he evade her by moving away.
“Go on.”
“All of society judged you unfairly, Quinn, even as they trusted you with their fortunes and called upon you for loans. No matter how brilliantly you manage their wealth, they will nonetheless judge your children and your grandchildren. For yourself, you don’t care, but what about for your daughters? And now you judge Rothhaven, having barely any acquaintance with him. You deem himhalf mad, putting more credence in gossip and ignorance than in the evidence of your own perceptions.”
Quinn set asideGrimm’s Fairy Tales. “Rothhaven has fits, Constance. He’s afraid of a sunny sky. His own brother has said as much. Rothhaven won’t imbibe but a single glass of spirits at a time. He has no friends, no connections. He’s never been to Town and he likely will never go, not even to make the acquaintance of his sovereign. That much coach travel would un-man him. Is this the sort of father you seek for your children?”
She nearly did slap him for that, but Quinn had spoken quietly, pleadingly.
“Rothhaven is honorable and kind. He is intelligent and well read. He cares for his family, his staff, and his tenants. If he’s afraid of a sunny sky, his courage is sufficient to overcome his fears, for he escorted me from the Hall to the orchard and back again without incident.” And he’d proposed to her in that lovely, sunny orchard, and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her.
Quinn took a stuffed bear down from the bookshelf and sniffed it. “But could he have escorted you to York yesterday?”
“Stephen dreads that assignment, Quinn, and you never censure him for shirking it.”
“Stephen cannot walk from shop to shop all day. Rothhaven could if he pleased to.”
“Because an ailment of the mind is less real than a lame leg? When Stephen’s problem was melancholia rather than lameness, did you dismiss the malady as of no moment?” Quinn had not, in fact, taken effective measures in Stephen’s case until the situation had become dire.
The baby stirred in her bassinette, and Quinn was immediately tucking the blanket up around her.
“We should take this discussion elsewhere,” he said, placing the bear at the baby’s feet. “We must not wake the princess or her mother will somehow know of it and cut short her own nap.”
We will finish this discussion here and now.“If you fell prey to shaking fits tomorrow, Quinn, would you love your daughters any less? Would you be less of a father to them, or would your disability make you even more devoted to their welfare?”
He gave the blanket one last twitch. “You should have been a barrister, and that is not a compliment. When I am a feeble old relic, half blind, deaf, and toothless, I will love my family with the last of my breath and the ferocity of a dragon, but Constance, you deserve peace, a man who can give you contentment, not a fellow who has demons of his own to battle.”
What worthy man or woman didn’t have the occasional demon to battle?
