“Ah, yes, expectations.” Fyclan began cutting his meat. “The bane of a civilized society.”
“I’m not just anyone. I’m a duke—”
“Because you were born first and had the luck of a certain set of parents. I’ve worked with the peerage all my life, Baynton. Men who feel it beneath them to dirty their hands. Or who play at politics to make themselves feel important. Worse are the ones who don’t do anything but gamble and socialize. And then there are the good ones.” Fyclan pointed at him with his knife. “I would have been proud to have had you for a son-in-law. You worked hard to turn your family’s fortunes around. I know what a struggle it was. And I should state, I am pleased with your brother. Lord Ben makes Elin happy. Your father may have been a rigid man but he turned out sons with initiative and drive.”
“I know.” Once again, Gavin experienced the tightening in his chest. “I understand what I should do.”
“Do you?” Fyclan set the knife aside. “Your father was a good one for saying one thing and doing the opposite himself. What does that tell you?”
“That he was the man he was.”
“No, it should tell you that those responsibilities and expectations people talk about are subject to interpretation. Jenny’s father didn’t approve of me. He felt I wasn’t good enough because I didn’t have a title before my name and because I was Irish. He was wrong. So, the question I ask, do you believe people who would look down their noses at your Sarah are wrong?”
“Absolutely.” Gavin leaned forward. “She is the bravest woman I know. I have learned from her how difficult it is for a woman to survive alone, but she has. She even did what she must to rescue her niece from, well, an unspeakable fate. She has overcome odds that would break any dozen men I know.”
God, just thinking about Sarah, about his admiration for her and all that she had brought into his life the last two months and how people might perceive her made him a bit crazy. He wanted to pick up chairs, throw them, and rail against the injustice of narrow minds. “If I was a boot maker or a deacon or any number of working occupations, I’d ask her to be my wife and be humbled if she answered yes.”
“But you can’t ask her as a duke?”
“You know that I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Gavin frowned at Fyclan. “She is an actress. People know her as my mistress. It is not done.”
Fyclan shrugged. “Of course it has been done. There has been a mistress or two who has married her man and gone respectable.”
“None that I know. Or that my family knows.”
“Yes, but what is the purpose of being the most powerful duke in England if you can’t do exactly as you wish?”
“She can’t have children, Fyclan.”
That statement stopped him. “You know this?”
Gavin nodded. “It isn’t just that I need an heir for the title, I always imagined myself with children. I want them.”
“And you are certain she can’t have them?”
“Sarah is certain.”
“Damn. Now I understand. I’m sorry, my friend. That is a facer . . . however, we can’t always order our lives.”
“We can for what is in our control.”
“Whether or not we have children is far from under our control.” Fyclan took a drink of his stout and set the glass down, studying it a moment before saying, “Jenny wanted a cartload of children, but her heart was not strong. The doctors warned us there was a danger to her heart if she should be pregnant. I loved Jenny, Baynton. From the moment I set eyes on her, I knew she was the one and I would have happily foregone children to keep her well—but she didn’t agree. She said her arms felt empty without a child.”
Gavin could understand that sentiment.
“So, we tried. There were some miscarriages. It was as if Jenny’s body was protecting her, and then we were blessed to have Elin, and very lucky.” He spoke as if living a happier time in his mind. “When I said as much, Jenny had laughed at me. She teased me for not believing in my gypsy gran.”
“Your gypsy gran?”
“Aye, she had the gift of sight. She could see the future.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“When I was a lad I did. None of us questioned her because she was often right. She predicted that my children’s children would be peers. Dukes, she said. But I loved Jenny. I knew about her heart and I loved her all the more, Baynton. She was light to my dark. A joyful, giving woman. I didn’t care about the prophecy when I was with her. My heart, even my soul was hers. Still are.” His eye had gone misty and he looked away for a moment to gather himself.
