“Herbert, it is not a query which requires much analysis,” Leonard groaned in exasperation. “I ask you as my confidant. Do you believe that Miss Priscilla and I are well-suited in disposition and constitution?”
He did not add the word “wits” for he feared what he would do should Herbert answer affirmatively.
“No, Your Grace, not particularly.”
Leonard laughed at the barrister’s candor.
“Nor do I.” He grinned dashingly at Herbert who was ready to flee in terror. It was one of the reasons Leonard thought so highly of the man. Guile had no place in his heart and the Duke felt as if he knew few people who could claim the same.
How can the man be in a perpetual state of panic? He has been a valued member of the duchy for years and yet he behaves as if his life hangs in the balance.
Leonard knew it was merely a matter of Herbert’s insecurities. The lawyer was not an attractive man; one who had been plagued with several mysterious illnesses in his childhood, and suffering which had left him unhealthy in his maturity. He was near-sighted and particularly pudgy but despite all his shortcomings, Herbert was a brilliant barrister. Leonard trusted him implicitly not only with the duchy’s affairs but with his own thoughts. He knew whatever he and Herbert discussed would not leave the barrister’s lips, no matter how questionable he might find it.
“But I do suppose marriage was inevitable,” Leonard continued, a note of sadness in his tone. “Miss Priscilla will make as good a wife as any other.”
Leonard was unsure that was true but relief flooded Herbert’s face and suddenly Leonard realized why the conversation had made him so uncomfortable.
He thought I was apt to end the engagement and he would be forced to tend to the aftermath of such a scandal.
Of course, the thought had entered Leonard’s mind on more than one occasion. Priscilla was bothersome and demanding. She did not respect Leonard’s need to attend duchy matters nor heed his constant hints to be left in peace. Or perhaps she did and simply did not care. In any case, it mattered not. A duke needed to be married and Priscilla was a good a match as any Leonard had found over the years. He was three-and-thirty, far past the point of being particular. If his father had not indulged Leonard’s desire to sow his wild oats, Leonard would have been wed long ago.
Alas, I am no longer Marquis. I am The Duke and must act accordingly. Being Duke means making sacrifices which may not please me. Such as marrying Miss Priscilla.
“Your Grace?”
“Yes, Herbert.”
Leonard refocused his eyes on the barrister who watched him with a slightly parted mouth. The Duke mistook his questioning look as a demand to hurry matters along.
“Ah, yes. I will see to the papers, Herbert. You need not ask again.”
He dipped the nib of the pen into a bottle of ink and continued to address the issues before him but after a moment, he noticed Herbert studied him with keen interest.
“What is it?” Leonard demanded. “Why do you watch me like that?”
“I realize you misunderstood me.”
Leonard’s brow furrowed.
“Have I? In what way?”
“It is not your wedding I am eager to attend,” Herbert explained quickly. His ruddy face paled and he shook his head.
“That is not what I meant to say. Of course, I am eager to attend your union, Your Grace but I was not speaking about your engagement.”
He trailed off, his eyes growing wider. Herbert was confused by the words coming out of his own mouth. Leonard stared at him, amused but losing his patience with each passing second.
“Herbert, you have been imbibing this morning?”
“Certainly not, Your Grace!”
The Duke chuckled. He had known the strait-laced solicitor had not been drinking but he could not resist teasing the man.
“Then perhaps you will be so kind as to finish your thought.”
“I am looking forward to the marriage of Lord Curry to Lady Fife.”
Leonard frowned.
