The fire popped. James said nothing.
“Regarding the child.” Calder cleared his throat. “The circumstances of her birth, specifically. There are members of the Ashbourne family… I represent several, as I have said, though I will not name them at this juncture, who have questions about the late Duke’s decision to acknowledge her. About the circumstances of her birth.” He paused. “About whether, given those circumstances, she ought to be connected to the family at all.”
James felt something go cold inside him.
“She is one year old,” he said.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“She has lost both parents.”
“Yes.”
“And certain members of this family have decided that this is the appropriate moment to question her right to exist within it.”
Calder had the look of a man who had anticipated this response and prepared himself for it. “I understand the sentiment, Your Grace. I am merely the messenger of the concern, not its?—”
“Who?” James asked quietly.
“I am not at liberty to say at present. I would only tell you that the concerns are held by more than one party and are being discussed more widely than you might hope.” Calder shifted his papers. “There is also the matter of your position.”
James motioned for him to continue.
“An unmarried duke,” Calder said carefully, “with a reputation that society has formed certain… opinions about, raising a child born out of wedlock—it invites scrutiny, Your Grace. Isay this not as a judgment but as a practicality. The gossip has already begun. In London, certainly, and it will reach the county soon enough.” He paused. “If the household continues to appear… unstable, some may decide to formally challenge the guardianship.”
The wordchallengedropped into the room like a boulder.
“On what grounds?” James asked, his voice very even. In the past two weeks, he had found that he could keep his voice very even when he needed to, regardless of what was happening underneath it.
“Fitness,” Calder said simply, as though it were just a word. “A man of your history, of your previous… er… freedoms, raising a child out of wedlock, in a household without a mistress, without stability?—”
“Without a mistress?”
“A duchess, Your Grace. I mean a duchess.” He had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. “The absence of one creates a particular vulnerability. To outside questioning.”
James stood. He did it slowly, without drama, but the movement made Calder stop speaking immediately.
He walked to the fireplace and stood before it, looking at the dead embers. Behind him, Calder waited with stillness; he knew better than to say anything to fill the silence.
“Let me get this straight,” James uttered. “Society intends to punish an innocent child for the circumstances of her birth because the man responsible for her is unmarried.”
“Society,” Calder countered carefully, “rarely concerns itself with the innocence of children in these situations, Your Grace. It concerns itself with appearances and its right standing.”
“And innocence is not an appearance,” James said.
“No, Your Grace. It is not.”
A pause. The clock on the mantel seemed to tick louder.
“What would silence the gossip?” James asked. Not because he didn’t know, but because he wanted to hear the man say it.
Calder cleared his throat. “A marriage, Your Grace. A respectable one, contracted promptly and to a woman of good family and steady character. It would… reframe the household, as it were. Make the situation look considered rather than improvised. It would be considerably more difficult for anyone to question the fitness of a duke with a duchess at his side.” He paused. “Especially one who showed an interest in the child’s welfare.”
James laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. It was the sound of a man confronting the distance between his life as it had been seven weeks ago and his life as it was now, and finding the gap both absurd and entirely real.
“Forgive me,” he said after his laughter died down. “I find I need a moment to appreciate the situation fully.”
Calder waited.
