After he had picked his heart off the floor and emptied that first glass of brandy, the notion had come to him. His aunt had been complaining ever since his return about Helena’s antics, almost demanding that he take charge of his younger sister. He had been sure to tarnish his own reputation sufficiently in the past sennight to persuade Aunt Fanny to reconsider the wisdom of that notion before it became a command.
It had been an impulsive whim to suggest that Eliza chaperone his sister, a suggestion made before Nicholas considered the repercussions.
He had never expected her to respond favorably, but Eliza had been agreeable. Perhaps his suggestion fit with her own expectations. He could readily imagine that a woman who had until recently been the wife of a parson was accustomed to providing useful service to others. To return to the duke’s abode and become idle might be abhorrent to her.
He could think of no other reason for her ready agreement.
The challenge would be to win his aunt’s approval. There was some matter between his aunt and Haynesdale’s mother of long-standing enmity, and Nicholas did not wish Eliza to arrive for tea before he had eliminated any objections.
If indeed, it could be done.
“The shame of it is that there were no children,” Haynesdale said quietly and Nicholas realized that his friend had been watching him.
And he had been staring at the door, where Mrs. North had vanished, like a lost hound.
“I had assumed there was no desire for any,” he said, when in truth he had not considered the matter at all. “After all, they were wed the better part of a decade.”
“Precisely,” his friend agreed. “And Eliza always wished for a family, the larger the better.” Those words only added to Nicholas’ conviction of the unsuitability of his interest. He feigned interest in his glass lest Haynesdale guess the truth. “It must have been Frederick who declined.”
“Perhaps it was a decision made of frugality,” Nicholas suggested.
“He had a good living. Not a rich one, but they could have supported a family.” Haynesdale shook his head. “Perhaps there was another issue.”
Nicholas was keenly aware of one possible reason. Had his friend guessed the truth of his own situation? Nicholas risked a glance to find the duke apparently lost in thought.
“Frederick was very concerned with the spiritual and physical health of his parishioners,” Haynesdale continued. “Eliza often noted the extent of his charity in giving food or comfort. She said he would go to anyone who summoned him, regardless of the hour, and laughed that he often gave away their own dinner to those in greater need. She worried about his health, especially near the end.” He nodded. “Perhaps he did not have the fortitude to care for a family, as well.”
His concern, to Nicholas’ relief, was solely for his sister.
“But that is over and done. Eliza is young enough that if she weds again, she can have those children.” Haynesdale looked up and smiled, even as his words were like a knife to Nicholas’ heart. “And have you satisfied your need for indulgence?”
“I have only begun to drown my sorrows,” Nicholas replied lightly. “Have you already lost your enthusiasm for such revels?”
“I have other matters requiring both my attention and a clear head,” his friend growled, then spared him a piercing look. “You must have a scheme for your future.”
“I have few prospects now that wages have been halved.”
Haynesdale shook his head. “There is no cause to be grim. You are home. You are hale. You are decorated. You have a commission. Take a wife, Emerson. See yourself settled instead of drinking yourself to an early grave.”
“You recommend marriage to me?” Nicholas was incredulous. “Perhaps I have missed my opportunity to meet your new wife, the duchess who keeps you so contented.”
“There is no such woman and you know it well.” Haynesdale was gruff, though, which meant some female had snared his gaze.
Perhaps he had no intention of wedding the lady in question. That would be characteristic of the man Nicholas knew.
“Then who are you to commend the office to me?”
Haynesdale raised his hands. “I thought only to surrender a little advice. A wife might see you settled. A marriage might give you purpose.”
“A wife might see me miserable,” Nicholas countered. “Or I might ensure the same to her.” He shook his head with resolve. “You waste your breath, Haynesdale. I will never wed.”
“And you will accept no gifts. Truly, you have become vexing company, Emerson.” There was a glimmer of humor in Haynesdale’s dark eyes despite his manner. “It is a shame you have such an aversion to gambling, for I never met a man more fortunate at the tables. You might win yourself a fortune, though your dislike of such pastimes was well-earned.”
Nicholas froze in the act of taking a sip of brandy, struck by the notion.
His friend nodded, unaware that he had granted inspiration. “Your father’s lesson was a harsh one. I have always respected your resolve not to follow his path.”
Nicholas had been compelled to sell the family manor to pay his father’s gambling debts after that man’s demise, and had vowed then to never to turn the tables himself. He knew the fever of being compelled to return to the game despite one’s mounting losses and feared to succumb to it as his father had.
