A Passionate Endeavor (28 page)

“Even you do not have faith in his
intelligence and ability.” Charlotte closed the trunk and latched
it. “No, my dear. It is you who does not have faith. You are a fool
not to grab happiness when it is before you on a platter, yours for
the taking.”

“I do beg your pardon. You are one to talk.
You are lecturing me on the importance of love when you—”

“Aha! I knew you loved him!”

“I did not say that.”

“Well, do you?” the old woman asked.

“What does it signify? You love the vicar, do
you not? And yet, you have not married him. And would I be right in
guessing he has asked you on numerous occasions?”

The older lady’s face turned a darker shade.
“Why, that is none of your affair. We were talking about—”

Charlotte interrupted. “No. My ill-fated
marriage is none of your affair.”

“It most certainly is! Everything about this
family is my affair,” the dowager duchess harrumphed.

“Well, do not expect me to follow a course
you are not willing to tread.”

Her Grace sighed pitifully, and Charlotte
hardened her heart. When had she discarded her timid personality
for that of a bold and independent creature who cared little of
what others thought of her and less of polite conversation?

“You’re leaving with that trouble-making
cousin of yours, aren’t you? You will bring scandal on us all, as
well as ruin my Nicky’s life. But tell me this, once and for all,
do you love the Frenchman?”

“No,” Charlotte admitted. “Alexandre left
last night. He has promised to secure lodgings for me in London.
Really, this is for the best.”

A loud rapping interrupted the
conversation.

The butler entered with a flushed expression.
“Your Grace, Lady Charlotte, the duchess asked me to request your
immediate presence in the salon.”

“Come, come Stevens, what is the matter? I
have never seen you so ruffled. Is it my son?” asked the dowager
duchess.

“No, no. I believe it has something to do
with Lady

Susan. One of our chambermaids found a note
on ‘er bed. A bed that ‘ad not been slept in, I might add,” he said
with a conspiratorial wink. “It seems the young chit, I mean lady,
‘eighed off to London with that smooth-talking Frenchy,” the butler
said. In his excitement he was dropping his aitches and betraying
his roots.

“What!” exclaimed Charlotte and Her Grace
simultaneously.

Nicholas rubbed his eyes and tried to shake
the gnawing headache that had invaded the edges of his mind. He had
closeted himself in the library all day, refusing to allow anyone
to enter, despite repeated knocks. Trying to decipher the ledgers
was actually easier than he had thought; he could read the simple
entries and the numbers. And he could add the figures in his mind.
The problem was that the ciphers did not make sense.

It was the small numbers that caught his eye.
Each time an entry was made for the father, it varied by ten to
fifteen pounds. But in reviewing the stable charts, the number of
horses shod never varied. And the variance did not occur in the
off-season, when some of the horses’ shoes were taken off for
longer rests. Then the income from selling a small portion of the
hay that had been recently harvested was off by five and twenty
pounds. He was sure of this, because he had witnessed the sale.

Nicholas added Mr. Coburn’s neat rows of
figures three times. They did not add up. The expenses should have
been two-thirds the stated amount. The profits should have been a
quarter higher. When he glanced down at a notation involving the
sum of five hundred pounds and its payment for rethatching tenant
cottages, Nicholas squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his fist down
on the ledger.

He had been a blind fool
.

He had allowed his embarrassment and failures
to evade the ultimate responsibility of his birth. Charlotte, of
course, had been correct in all her accusations. He dragged himself
to his feet and groped for the almost-spent candle, hating what he
would have to do next, fearing how it might affect his father. But
by the time he reached his sire’s door, he had armed himself with
ironclad resolve.

Charley, bless his soul, was asleep in the
chair next to the duke’s bed. He woke the boy and bade him go to
his small chamber off Nicholas’s own, then turned toward his
father’s bedside and saw that the older man’s eyes were half
open.

“What is it, my son? Is someone finally
willing to tell me what all the running and thumping around is
about? Everyone seems too afraid to tell me anything anymore,
afraid I’ll pop off at the smallest provocation.”

“I don’t know what you are referring to,
Father. But I have come to discuss a very grave matter, something
that will disturb you a great deal. But, I want to assure you that
I will take full responsibility in seeing that everything is
rectified in a satisfactory manner. I am only sorry I will have to
break my promise to you to do so. But I must do this whatever your
reaction will be. I owe it to my family, as well as to all the good
people of the counties who depend on us.”

“What is it, my son?” the father asked.

Nicholas sat on his father’s bed and took one
of his frail hands in his own. “Edwin and the steward have been
draining funds from the estates. I have only reviewed the ledgers
for the last two years, but in that time I estimate that over ten
thousand pounds has been taken. For what uses, I have no idea.”

The duke closed his eyes. A moment or two
later his father waved his hand, urging him to continue.

When Nicholas was sure his father was alert
enough for him to carry on, he did so. “At first, I thought it was
just Coburn. I mean, why would Edwin take that which was already
his?” Nicholas paused to search his father’s face.

“Perhaps it is because I chastised him many
times over the years for overspending. He has an addicted taste for
high-flying.”

“My best guess is that Coburn discovered
Edwin’s methods of taking funds, then blackmailed him into
receiving money of his own,” Nicholas said. “I confirmed Edwin’s
role when I found his signature approving five hundred pounds for
rethatching all the cottages’ roofs. There is not one rethatched
dwelling in all of Wiltshire, I assure you. And Edwin toured the
area with me.”

“My son, you do not have to tell me any more.
I believe and trust you. I have always trusted you.”

“Father, I will remove Coburn and consult
with the magistrate. I daresay this scandal will grow, as Coburn
will surely try to blackmail us to keep Edwin’s name out of the
proceedings. I will not accept a scheme of this nature. But I fear
this will cause you great embarrassment.”

“It will not cause me pain, only joy in the
knowledge that
you
will do what I always hoped,” replied the
duke in a ragged whisper.

“Father, do you understand me rightly? I will
have to take control of the Cavendish estates.”

His father closed his eyes again, yet patted
his son’s hand. “Nicholas, my son, I have waited so long to hear
these words. I prayed for them. And now, as I lie here, my prayers
have been answered.”

“But I thought you wanted Edwin to oversee
Wyndhurst and your other holdings. He was the more capable one. He
was the one with the high marks from university. I was only capable
of blasting our country’s enemies to bits.”

“No, Nicholas. You were always more capable
than that. You are a leader of men. And you have integrity. And
that is much more important than any intellectual pursuit.”

“Well, then why didn’t you tell me this and
insist that I remain here?”

Nicholas had to lean close to his father’s
lips to hear him.”Because you needed to want to lead the people of
our estate, and you did not. You needed to be willing to face the
taunts and embarrassment of your one failing in life, and you
weren’t.” His father squeezed his hand slightly. “And I would not
force you to do it. You see, I am very similar to you. I faced
difficulties learning too, although not as great as yours. If you
did not think you were up to the challenge, I thought it better for
you to choose a different course. But I never stopped believing in
you.”

“Oh, Father,” he said. “I wish you had
confided in me.”

“No, Nicholas, you had to choose to become
head of this family by yourself.” His father’s eyes opened and were
watery. “And I was wrong about Miss Kittridge. I am glad you
married her. She will make a fine wife and duchess, and will help
you find your way if you allow her. I believe your pride is now up
to the challenge. It shall be almost easy to let her be of
assistance to you, for I have not seen a lady so in love with her
husband.” The duke seemed overcome with his long speech. He began
to cough, but was too weak to produce more than a wisp of a
sound.

Nicholas did not dare worry his father about
the disastrous state of his marriage. He brushed a thin lock of
white hair from his father’s brow. “Father, you must rest now.”

“No. I must know if you will now have the
courage to have children,” the duke whispered.

“I… I don’t know, Father.”

“Well, I made a mess of it. But, I do think
you have the benefit of learning from my mistakes.” The father’s
breath was becoming shallower. “I never blamed you for any of it,
Father. I blamed myself.”

“It is time to stop blaming yourself. And I
will do the same. You have much work to do.” The older man raised
his painfully thin fingers, and after fumbling for a moment, he
placed something hard and cold in Nicholas’s hand. “I have been
wanting to give you this. It has been waiting for you. But I would
not force it on you.”

Nicholas looked down to find the long
familiar signet ring in the palm of his hand. As it blurred before
him, he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to rein in his
emotions.

“It has always been yours.”

“Yes, sir.”

The ring that had become too heavy and large
for his father’s thin fingers fit him perfectly.

“Now, my son, you have made me the happiest
of men. Will you read to me the Twenty-third Psalm?” The duke
indicated a bible on the nightstand. “I wish to rest a bit now. I
am afraid I am worn out.”

“Of course, sir.” Nicholas rose to retrieve
the bible, the ribbon indicating his father’s favorite psalm.
Nicholas knew the words by heart, but read the verse from the page
to please his father, until he got through the first section and
almost broke down. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for thou art with me…”

Nicholas could go no further.

“Remember, my son, that I will be with you
too, in your heart always,” his father said on a slow exhalation.
“I will never forget. Father… I love you.” His father’s breath
rattled. “And I you…” Exhaustion poured through every pore of
Nicholas’s body. He lay down next to his father and gently clasped
his elder’s cold hand in his own large warm one. Head pounding, he
closed his eyes and remembered being a child and holding his
father’s hand then, Nicholas’s small one engulfed by the powerful
Duke of Cavendish’s. A title he most likely would obtain all too
soon.

The tears he had so successfully held in
check silently coursed down the corners of his eyes, drenching his
temples. He forced himself to relax his clenched chest.

“
Think only of the past as its remembrance
gives

you pleasure
.”

—Pride and Prejudice

“GOODNESS me.” Charley jumped up from his bed
when Nicholas entered the small chamber adjoining his own rooms.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Lord Nick. Didn’t hear you come in last night,
or I would’ve performed my duties.”

“I didn’t retire here after all, Charley. I
stayed with my father.” At the inquisitive gaze of his faithful
young batman, Nicholas forced himself to continue. “He is gone. He
died just before dawn.”

“Oh, Lord Nick.”

“I know, Charley, I know.” Nicholas accepted
the embrace of his young charge, and they said nothing for long
moments.

“I am glad then that I did not bother him
with the ruckus going all around us yesterday,” Charley said into
Nicholas’s shoulder.

“What ruckus?”

“Well, I don’t know the whole of it, sir.
Only that the overdressed frog left without a word the night before
last, and a female went with him or after him.”

“Which female, Charley?” asked Nicholas. He
felt a certain stabbing sensation in his chest. “I don’t know. One
of the ladies I think, sir.”