“He did, but I also know he hated every second of it just as much as you hate it now.”
Caleb’s gaze snapped onto hers. “He never said a word.” Surely George would have mentioned that at some point, wouldn’t he?
The duchess shook her head. “Consider the age difference between you for a moment. By the time you were ten, he was off to Eton where he made his own set of friends. After that, he moved in separate circles from you, Griffin, and Devlin, though I do know he wished you’d had more in common – a way in which to connect. He told me once that he always felt as though he was very alone. You three had each other, and he was by himself.”
“And then he met Miss Clemens, only to be told he could not have her.” Caleb sighed. He’d always envied George, but not anymore. The carriage drew to a halt and he straightened himself. “The mistakes we make,” he murmured as he opened the door and alit. He helped his mother down. “Let us try to put an end to that habit.”
“You know he meant well,” the duchess remarked, accepting his escort.
Caleb wasn’t sure if she spoke of his father or his brother. All he could hear in the ensuing silence was the age-old saying that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. They were like blisters beneath the soles of his feet, but as long as he got to marry Mary, he did not really mind. And as wrong as he knew it was, he appreciated his father’s interference in George’s affairs right now, because if George had married Miss Clemens, then Caleb would never have been able to have her, not even with George being dead and buried. For that was the law – a man could not wed his brother’s widow.
They climbed the steps leading to the tall front door of a pristine white townhouse. Caleb reached for the shiny brass knocker and gave it a few hard raps. He glanced at his mother, who looked every bit the graceful duchess, chin high and eyes facing forward so she would be sure to meet the butler’s gaze directly the moment the door opened.
It did so quickly, allowing Caleb a direct view of an elegant foyer with white marble floors and a massive arrangement of roses adorning a table set directly against the far wall. His mother glanced at him and raised one eyebrow before returning her attention to the man who’d opened the door. He was a middle-aged fellow, somberly attired in a pair of black trousers with jacket to match.
“Yes?” He inquired with a noticeable raise of his chin.
“Are Mr. and Mrs. Clemens at home?” Caleb asked. “The Duke of Camberly and his mother, the duchess, would like to have a word with them if it’s no inconvenience.”
The butler stared at them. He blinked and then stared at them some more before collecting himself and granting them entry. “Please wait here a moment,” the butler said after showing them into a parlor dominated by subdued pastel colors. Here, hydrangeas appeared to be the theme, for they featured in every picture on the wall and in several porcelain figurines.
The butler retreated, leaving Caleb alone with his mother.
“It seems they have good taste,” she remarked. She did not have to add,even though they’re new money, for him to know it was implied. “I like what I’ve seen so far.”
“Not that it really matters,” Caleb told her.
She gave him a pointed look. “You may not think so, but let me assure you that when you marry Miss Clemens, you will be grateful if her family is the sort you can get along with without too much difficulty.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed for the simple sake of ending the discussion.
Arguing about his future parents-in-law was the last thing he wished to be doing the moment they entered the room. He glanced at the clock and noted the time. Ten minutes had passed since their arrival, and the Clemenses had still not arrived to greet them.
“Do you think they’re deliberately keeping us waiting?” Caleb asked his mother when another ten minutes had passed.
“That would be rather rude, but given our family’s effect on their daughter’s life, understandable, I suppose.”
Caleb drummed his fingers against his armrest. Perhaps this meeting would not be as easy as he had expected. He cleared his throat and was considering calling for a servant to bring them some tea when the door opened and the Clemenses walked in.
“Your Graces,” Mrs. Clemens said by way of greeting. Her voice was curt while still managing to sound polite.
Her husband, who followed her into the room, executed a bow in concert with his wife’s curtsey. “I hope you’ll forgive the wait,” he murmured. “We were not expecting callers.”
Caleb, who had risen the moment Mrs. Clemens had entered the room, stepped forward and offered his hand. Mr. Clemens eyed it as if uncertain, but eventually shook it without too much hesitation. “Please, let us sit,” Caleb suggested. “There is a matter we wish to discuss with you.”
“Oh indeed?” Mrs. Clemens arched a brow. “One would think there was nothing left to be said between us.”
Ah, so the lady was holding a grudge.
Mr. Clemens gave his wife a look of warning. “I’m sure the duke and his mother have come for a reason. The least we can do is hear them out.”
Mrs. Clemens seemed to consider this before nodding her agreement. “Very well. Shall I ring for some tea?”
“Please do,” the duchess said. “I fear this may take some time. So sorry to impose on you like this without any notice, but my son is very eager to move things along, so here we are.”
“And we are both eager to know the reason for it, Your Grace,” Mr. Clemens said. He waited for his wife to sit before lowering himself to one of two available armchairs. Caleb sat in the other.
“I have come to discuss your daughter’s future,” Caleb said.
