The butler bowed and retreated, giving Nicole a disapproving once-over before he left.
Mark crouched down beside his uncle’s bed. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low.
The duke seemed to be studying Mark’s face. “It’s good to see you, Mark.”
Just like he did with any sort of emotion, Mark shook off the words. Nicole could almost see him physically do that. “What happened?” he repeated.
“It’s John.” The old man’s voice was withered and full of sadness. He apparently recognized that his nephew wasn’t in a mood for a family reunion or special memories.
“He’s dead? What happened?” Mark asked.
His uncle coughed piteously. He struggled to sit up. Mark leaned to help him. “Yes. Apparently he collapsed at the dinner table this evening. I received word not an hour ago.”
Mark ground his teeth. “Jesus. He was young. Do they suspect a heart ailment?”
“I suppose so,” the duke replied. “What else would cut down a man in the prime of life? Dear God. I truly cannot believe this is happening.” He closed his eyes.
Mark’s profile eased a bit. “I’ll go to his house in the morning. See if I can learn any of the particulars.”
“Thank you, dear boy.” The duke opened his eyes again and lapsed into another wheezy coughing fit.
When he recovered, he reached out and patted Mark’s cheek. “It’s nice to have a spymaster in the family.” Nicole couldn’t see his face but she could imagine how difficult that small bit of tenderness was for Mark to accept.
“It is good to see you, Mark,” the duke repeated. “Even if under such awful circumstances.”
“I heard you were sick. I’ve been meaning to pay a call.” Mark’s voice was strained.
“Of course. Of course,” came his uncle’s reply.
“I had no idea John was ill too. I—” Mark stopped and clenched his jaw.
The duke shook his head. “He wasn’t. But perhaps he was keeping it from me, given my condition. He recently became betrothed, you know. To Lady Arabelle Dunwoody. Lovely girl. They’d hoped to have the wedding before I curl up my toes.”
“Don’t say that,” Mark scolded.
“More convenient, don’t you think? Needn’t wait a year for mourning and all that. I didn’t blame him. I’ve been struggling to hold on for precisely that reason.” The duke’s hand fell to the bed. “Now I have nothing to live for.”
“Please don’t say that, Your Grace.” To anyone else, Mark’s voice would have sounded normal, casual even, but Nicole heard the strain in it. Sadness and angst lingered just below the surface. This was difficult for him. He’d loved his mother, and this man was his only living connection to her. Besides Regina and his great-aunt Harriet, the duke was Mark’s only remaining family in England… save for Nicole.
The duke lapsed into another coughing fit. Once he regained his voice, he looked past Mark into the shadows where she stood. “Nicole,” he croaked. “Is that you?”
Nicole started. She’d done her best to remain silent and fade into the background. She felt like an intruder. “Yes. Yes, Your Grace. It’s me.”
He raised a withered arm and motioned for her tocome forward. “Come here, dear girl. I never thought I’d see you again.”
Tears filled her eyes as she made her way to the duke’s bedside. “I didn’t know if I’d see you either.”
She bent over the bed and gave the elderly man a hug. She’d only met him a time or two, and never with Mark, but the duke had always been kind to her, and she’d heard from her mother that he’d been pleased by his nephew’s choice in a wife. He’d sent them a gorgeous silver punch bowl as a wedding present. One they’d never used, one Mark had never acknowledged because the duke was his uncle. Mark had sold all the extravagant wedding gifts they’d received and given the money to injured war veterans. He’d said the veterans needed the money more than he and Nicole needed useless costly things. She’d agreed with him and had been happy to relinquish the gifts.
“As beautiful as ever,” the duke said, smiling kindly up at Nicole. “I’m pleased to see you two made amends.” He turned his rheumy gaze to Mark. “Your mother would have loved you together.”
Mark remained silent. Nicole knew it was because he didn’t have the heart to tell the sick old man that they hadn’t made amends at all. More tears filled her eyes. Why was that thought so sad? She wouldn’t be the one to tell the duke. His son had just died for heaven’s sake. She wasn’t about to take away the one bit of happiness he seemed to be enjoying.
Mark’s mother had died before Nicole met Mark, but he kept a miniature of her on his nightstand. Her name was Mary and she had had dark hair and bright blueeyes. She’d looked a great deal like Mark’s cousin Regina.
Mark cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I truly am. It goes without saying that I’ll help you with anything you need. The funeral arrangements or anything else. I’m happy to notify the next in line to the dukedom as well. I assume you’ll want my help with that.”
Typical of Mark, he’d already begun trying to fix everything. His power lay in his ability to get things done and exert control. In a situation like this, he was doing the only thing he could, taking charge of the mundane details, the things he could control. Nicole doubted the duke was in a mood to discuss funeral arrangements, or the next heir for heaven’s sake. But that was what Mark could offer.
