Page 94 of A Duke for Diana
“They couldn’t. I never toldthem.” When she frowned at that, he added hastily, “I was worried they would tell people indiscriminately, and we’d have fortune hunters beating down our doors. How was I supposed to know it was practically a pittance compared to the expenses of living in London?”
“Speaking of that, if they try to live in London on that little money, they would always be in debt, I fear, especially if they tried to live the lives they’d been living heretofore.”
“Do you think he’ll be faithful?”
“How can anyone predict that? I assumed my mother would be the faithful one in my parents’ marriage, but I was wrong. If you can find a way to determine that ahead of time, let me know. Elegant Occasions would make a fortune selling that secret.”
His brow was knit in a frown. “Actually, I might have a way to make it less likely that he’ll cheat. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We haven’t caught up to them yet.”
“Yes, and once we do, we won’t be able to discuss anything concerning your father. So I need to know what you mean to do aboutthat. Because if you still intend to wait a while to marry—”
“No. Actually, Mother said something that got me thinking—that Father dreaded the possibility of being considered non compos mentis and feared having people think him insane. That’s why he went to such great lengths to make it appear to be an accidental overdose. He wanted to die, but also wanted not to be considered a suicide.”
“And it might also be why he preferred to frame his death as a possible felo-de-se by leaving you that letter.” She took a deep breath and reminded herself that he needed to hear this. “Perhaps—and I’m just saying it’s a possibility—your father might have been manipulating you for his own purposes.”
“Do you think so?” he said dryly. “Yes, that has occurred to me. After years of watching me side with my maternal grandfather, Father might have felt abandoned. This was his way to keep himself ever in my mind even after his death.”
“Exactly. In your mind and trying fruitlessly to find a way out of the box he’d put you in. Forgive me, but he sounds like something of an—”
“Arse. Yes, I realize he does. But honestly, he spent most of his life trying to fight his way out of melancholy. That’s why he drank, which only seemed to make it worse. Not that you could tellhimthat.”
The bitterness in his voice was laced with something else. And she recognized it, having been through something similar when her own family was shattered. “You haven’t yet really mourned him, have you?”
He sat there, clearly stunned by the observation.
Her heart hurt for him. “You’ve been so busy trying to meet his impossible requirements that you haven’t taken time to mourn him.”
“It’s just . . .” He scrubbed one hand over his face. “I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to . . . lose my will to live.”
“I’m not saying you should throw yourself into the river over it. I’m merely saying you should make your peace with the fact that he’s gone. And with who he was.”
“A melancholy man deep in his cups, you mean?”
“And a man who cared about your mother in his own peculiar way.” She folded her hands in her lap. “By the way, melancholy is one of those things they consider when looking at whether someone is non compos mentis.If you have evidence—other than the letter—that proves his spirits were often depressed, you could use that to help have him declared non compos mentis. If it comes to that, that is.”
“I still say it’s better that it not come to that.”
She sighed. “True, but if it does, at least you will only suffer the awful gossip and the scandal of it. As far as gossip goes, people will talk. I know that better than anyone. You just have to take your life in your own hands and find a way around them. Rosy once told me you were considered quite the eligible bachelor in Newcastle. And you’re a success in your field, who has to be one of the more exalted graduates of Newcastle-upon-Tyne Academy. I suspect you’ll find more people to champion you than think you guilty of murder. I say you just brazen out the gossip.”
“Like you and your sisters did.”
“Yes. Like we did.” She reached over to seize his hands. “Honestly, there’s no real evidence to imply that you killed him, is there?”
“No. I did dispose of the other empty laudanum bottle in the Tyne. But if it ever did turn up in the river, no one would connect it to me.”
“Perhaps it’s also time you consult a solicitor or even a discreet investigator, who can find out if anyone is even taking seriously the rumors of your murdering your father. Or perhaps ask a friend in Newcastle. Surely you have some there.”
He smiled. “A few. I would hope none of them would believe me capable of murder.”
“And you did say that the dukedom came to you long after he died.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t prove anything. They’ll say that anyone paying attention to the title would know Father was next in line.” He squeezed her hands. “That’s what I get for not paying attention, I suppose. But don’t worry about it.”
“I won’t. Because you and I are going to face whatever happens together. That’s the most important thing.”
“You’re right.”
The carriage abruptly halted.
