Though his mouth did not smile, she sensed the tension leak from his demeanor.
“That we are not exactly as we present to society will be our secret.”
Our secret.
Denial finally hovered on her tongue, but the words would not spill from her. Jules did not want to lie to him. The realization burned through her in a fiery wave. She wanted a connection that was…honest, even if that connection would be for a few weeks with no lasting attachment. Dukes and those who serve them never became friends.
“My father is the doctor, Your Grace. He will need to speak with you a few times to assure the duchess and even the queen that all is well. Please allow this.”
He did not reply but turned away and went back to the window.
Jules almost chuckled at his rudeness. “Good day, Your Grace.”
She did not wait in vain for a reply but made her way from his sanctuary. Once in the hallway, Jules breathed easier, a tension she’d not been aware of seeping from her body. The duchess emerged from another room as if she had been listening at the keyhole. The duchess beckoned Jules forward with an imperious wave of her hand. She hurried forward and entered a smaller sitting room, tastefully furnished in warm oak and pastel colors.
Her father set down a cup of tea and stood, reaching for the notepad. Jules swallowed a groan and handed it over. She had barely written anything on it that he could assess.
The duchess appeared to be a bundle of nerves and hope. “Well? Did you learn anything, Mr. Southby?”
Carefully, she chose her words. “I do not believe the duke is affected by any malady of the mind, Your Grace. However, that assessment is best performed by my father.”
Her Grace’s eyes widened. “My son spoke with you at length?”
“When it mattered to the duke, Your Grace.”
The duchess made a hopeless gesture with her hands. “What is your prognosis on the state of his mind?”
“Your Grace…your son…the duke, he is not insane.” Only cold, watchful, and dangerous. He would not be malleable, and her father might fail in all his attempts to reshape the duke. Still, she kept the observation to herself until she understood him more.
The duchess gasped. “Truly?”
Jules frowned. “Did you really believe him to be, Your Grace?”
The duchess’s eyes glittered with emotions. “My son is very different from the boy I knew.Verydifferent.”
“Being different or even altered does not make the duke not of sound mind, Your Grace,” her father said. “That is what my son is inferring.”
Jules nodded. “His Grace is very much aware of himself and his surroundings. He understands his duties. While he has been indelibly changed in respects you might not understand, I truly believe he only needs time to reacquaint himself with his life.”
“How much time?”
“Months…years, Your Grace.”
“We do not have months! We have weeks at best, Mr. Southby!”
“He has been alone for over ten years,” Jules said quietly.
The duchess briefly closed her eyes. “He confirmed that he was alone?”
“Yes. No one can expect him to be the person they recall in a matter of weeks or even months. He needs more time,” she once again stressed.
A shudder went through the duchess as she processed this. “That we do not have, Mr. Southby,” Her Grace clipped. “The season is upon us and my grand ball in barely a month!”
Jules looked to her father for support, and her heart lurched at the wariness in his gaze. She tried to read what he was thinking. Was he worried about the loss in income if they could not help the duchess? Or how the potential failure might affect his reputation in the field and overall practice?
Jules shifted her regard to the duchess. “The duke means to find himself a wife this season and wishes to present himself as the duke to society. That is what the entirehaut tonand the queen seem to be anticipating, his arrival in society.”
“Yes, for all his words and actions to be taken apart and dissected! There can be no misstep in his conduct.”
