“And how is Louisa?” asked Lark.
“Great. She told me this hilarious story about Lord Castlereigh, but it loses something in the retelling.” Fletcher laughed to himself as if this story were the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
“You aren’t married to Lady Louisa because…” said Owen.
Fletcher waved his hand. “She is my friend. Like a sister. We don’t like each other romantically.”
Hugh opened his mouth to make a half-formed joke about that when his cousin George, Lord Collingswood, appeared.
Hugh could recall enough to know that he and George had grown up together but were not close as adults, and Hugh had the sense that he did not like George much but could not remember why.
“Hello, Your Grace,” said George, and he sounded friendly enough.
“Hello, Collingswood. How has your day been?”
“Good, good. I barely got to talk to you or your lovely wife at the wedding, so since you are here, I wanted to convey my sincere congratulations to you.”
“Thank you. I will pass that along to the duchess.”
“Much obliged. Marriage is suiting you well so far?”
“Idyllically.”
“Good.”
Hugh glanced at Lark, hoping Lark might be able to step in and help Hugh remember whatever it was that he couldn’t, but Lark shrugged. Whatever reason Hugh had for not trusting George, he had not confided it to Lark before he’d been hit on the head.
“How are things with you?” Hugh asked.
George shrugged. “A little difficult. There was… an incident at my plantation in Jamaica that resulted in some property damage, and the crop yield is little less than what I’d hoped for, but I’m managing. I may need to sell some of my property there to make up for the shortfall.”
Hugh wondered if by “property,” George meant slaves. Hugh remembered suddenly that George owned a large number of people, which turned his stomach. But he said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Cost of doing business. The bizarre weather we’re having this year hasn’t helped, but that is out of my hands.”
“Yes.”
“But enough about me. I just wanted to congratulate you again. Have a good evening, gents.”
Everyone remained silent until George had disappeared into another room.
“Did you know he was a member here?” asked Owen.
“Yes,” said Lark. “He got the membership here because of Hugh, but he’s rarely in town, which is why we don’t see him.”
“I never liked him,” said Fletcher. “No offense, Hugh, but he always seems like he has an ulterior motive.”
“Agreed,” said Lark. “When we were boys, he used to skulk around the Swynford property like he was angry it was made out of bricks.”
Hugh remembered George as a boy following him and Lark around and shook his head. “I don’t trust him, but I cannot remember why.”
“I can’t think of anything specific,” said Lark, “although I don’t trust him, either. He was a bit of a bully when we were boys. I can’t see that he’s changed much, although I guess he was perfectly polite just now.”
“Maybe he’s resigned himself to never getting the title now,” said Fletcher.
“What do you mean?” Hugh asked.
“As your only first cousin, he was your most logical heir. But now that you are married, your future son, assuming you have one, will be the clear heir to the dukedom.”
