The door opened behind him, and Boggins' measured footsteps approached.
"The young lady has departed, Your Grace."
"I am aware."
"She seemed... pleased. By the conversation." A pause. "Whatever conversation may have occurred."
"We discussed ironwork, Boggins. The quality of her uncle's craftsmanship."
"Of course, Your Grace. And the Harvest Fair?"
Frederick’s head turned sharply. "How do you know about that?"
"I have excellent hearing, Your Grace. And the walls of this manor are not as thick as one might hope." Boggins' expression remained perfectly bland. "Am I to understand that Your Grace is considering attending?"
"I am considering. Yes."
"A remarkable development."
"Is it?"
"Your Grace has refused the invitation every year since inheriting the title. The committee has, I believe, continued sending invitations purely out of obligation, with no expectation of acceptance." Boggins paused. "They will be surprised."
"They will probably assume I'm coming to cause trouble."
"Very likely, Your Grace."
"They will watch my every move, waiting for me to make a mistake."
"Almost certainly, Your Grace."
"They will talk about me afterwards, regardless of how the day goes."
"Without question, Your Grace."
Frederick set down the hinge. "Then why am I considering it?"
Boggins was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than Frederick had ever heard it.
"Perhaps, Your Grace, because some things are worth doing even when they are difficult. Perhaps because change requires action, and action requires risk. Or perhaps…" He hesitated. "Perhaps because a young woman with strong opinions and stronger convictions suggested it might matter."
"You heard that part too?"
"I hear most things, Your Grace. It is something of a professional requirement."
Frederick turned to face his valet. In his years of service, Boggins had never offered personal advice. Never commented on matters of the heart. Never suggested that Frederick’s carefully maintained isolation might be anything other than appropriate.
"What do you think I should do?" Frederick asked.
Boggins' eyebrows rose. "Your Grace is asking my opinion?"
"I appear to be, yes."
"I think…" Boggins paused, choosing his words with evident care. "I think that Your Grace has spent thirty years being the person your father wanted you to be. I think that person is very tired. And I think that when someone offers you a different path, even a difficult one, it might be worth exploring."
"Even if it ends badly?"
"All paths end eventually, Your Grace. The question is whether the journey is worth taking." Boggins straightened his already-straight cuffs. "Will there be anything else?"
