Page 20 of A Lady's Beastly Duke
“Yes. He is rather scandalous in his behaviour,” his aunt said softly. “And I worry about the way he spends, too. Not just on brandy, but at the card-table. He will ruin Camberwell if he isnot careful. And Willowick too. I am afraid for what will happen if...when...” she wet her lips and gazed up at him, her eyes fearful.
“You mean you are scared that Giles will inherit?” Sidney asked carefully.
“Yes. I worry that...well...”
“Have no fear,” Sidney said firmly. “I will make sure that does not happen.”
“You will?” His aunt sounded genuinely relieved. Sidney felt compassion and gratitude—many women would have been so intent on having a duke for a son that they wouldn’t have cared if he would ruin himself and the duchy that he inherited. But his aunt was not like that. He could see she cared both for Giles and for Willowick too.
“Yes. Thank you, Aunt,” he murmured. “I will do what I can.”
Aunt Harriet smiled at him. “You’re good, Sidney. You’re a good man.”
“So is my cousin,” Sidney said firmly. “We just need to lead him back to himself.”
“If only that were easy,” Aunt Harriet murmured.
“We shall try,” Sidney promised.
His aunt gazed up at him and his heart twisted. She trustedhim to keep his promises. He had to.
He inclined his head respectfully and they went back out to the drawing room.
“In Town, eh?” Giles was slurring as they arrived. He was evidently more in his cups than anyone realized. “Town’s good. Come into Town, Sidney. We can go to the Westford Club. We’ll find some ladies of ill repute, and...”
“How was the weather in Warrenbridge?” Sidney interrupted swiftly, addressing Harriet, whose home was in Warrenbridge, four miles from London.
“Good. It was good, thank you,” Aunt Harriet replied swiftly. She had gone pale.
“Would you like some sugar?” Mama asked.
“Town’s not boring,” Giles informed Sidney loudly, clearly unaware of how uncomfortable the rest of the tea-gathering was by now. “Full of things to do. You have to get out and about. Out and about,” he repeated, nodding solemnly.
“I need to go into town for a modiste’s appointment,” Aunt Harriet announced, perhaps trying to distract from Giles.
“Town is where everything happens!” Giles informed them all authoritatively. “It’s the epicenter of the world. The epicenter,” he reiterated, nodding as though he approved of how it sounded.
“You must have a look at the new roses,” Mama informedAunt Harriet, evidently trying to steer her onto another subject. “They are flowering exceptionally well since our gardener chose to plant them in a new place.”
Sidney listened distractedly to the conversation. Giles had stopped declaiming and was eating instead. That was good, for several reasons. One of the reasons was that Giles looked as though he hadn’t been eating very much. His face was weary, and his body seemed to have shrunk, his white linen shirt hanging on his form. He carried around an air of neglect. Perhaps he never went home, just went from club to inn to public house in London.
“We should take our leave,” Aunt Harriet said after an hour. Sidney glanced at Giles. His dark-haired head was bent over his plate of pound cake, and he was tucking into the third slice he had eaten since arriving. He looked up, his hazel eyes—identical to Uncle’s and Father’s--gazing directly into Sidney’s.
“You need to enjoy yourself.”
Sidney inclined his head. “Perhaps,” he said lightly.
“Enjoyment is...is the key to long life,” Giles stammered. He drew a breath and Aunt Harriet turned to him.
“We should get going, dear,” she said tightly.
“‘Need to hold my tongue, do I?” Giles inquired. He did not sound irate, yet his mother tensed. “Holding my tongue.”
***
Sidney winced. Giles was miserable—he knew that much. His vibrant, funny cousin had never drunk like this before.
After Giles and Harriet went to the coach, Mama remained behind in the drawing room.
