Read Online Nightingale by Sharon Ervin - Free Book Online

started and apologized.
    “You are welcome to enjoy this room, as well as any others,” he said. “This salon is for entertaining small groups of ladies making social calls. It is probably where you will entertain your guests.”
    She smiled at the idea of her friends calling upon her here. Penny Anderson would probably swoon dead away if she were escorted into such a chamber.
    “And the duke’s gentlemen friends? Where does he entertain them?”
    Patterson indicated she should follow and led her to another salon near the library on the other side of the entry. “This is the duke’s study and his office where he meets with businessmen from time to time.”
    “Where does he entertain his female callers?”
    Patterson frowned. “He does not have female callers here, my lady.”
    She lowered her voice. “Will you tell me something of the older son, then, and how Devlin came to acquire the title? Was there bad blood among the three?”
    “No, my lady.” The man’s face softened. “Master Rothchild, the eldest, was devoted to duty. He did things properly and well, groomed as he was from birth to be a duke.”
    Hoping this reminiscing might take a while, Jessica settled lightly on a window seat, prepared to listen.
    “Master Rothchild was mortally injured in a duel over the reputation of Lady Jane Sequest, a woman who, it is said, maintains a list of men who died defending her honor. She added two names to her list that morning. Master Roth’s opponent died, gasping for air around the ball lodged in his throat. The dying man’s shot went through Roth’s liver and pierced a kidney.”
    The old servant seemed to age, diminishing as his shoulders slumped with the memory. While Jessica did not like seeing his distress, she thought speaking of the death of a loved one sometimes aided the handling of one’s grief. Also, she was curious about how the elder son’s demise affected the family.
    “The damage to either organ would have been fatal,” Patterson continued, as if he were alone. “A London physician told us it scarcely mattered which failed first. The family returned to Gull’s Way, the ancestral home.”
    Suddenly, he glanced into her face and regarded Jessica earnestly, as if concerned that she understand the import of his words. “Master Roth spent his final days in excruciating pain, not only his, but his family’s.
    “Until then, Devlin — that is, His Grace — had been the lighthearted middle son. He was a better scholar than Master Roth. Of course, he did not have the pressure that weighted Master Roth’s efforts.
    “As Master Roth lay dying, Devlin grew solemn as he anticipated a role he felt ill-prepared to take up. His father assured him, but the old duke’s grief had himself tied in knots. He loved each of his sons equally, but he had not considered his second son might acquire the title.”
    Patterson paused and Jessica patted the cushion beside her. He eased onto the far end of the window seat. A glint of tears seeped from the corners of his eyes.
    “Of course, Devlin had the intelligence and the courage to assume the responsibilities,” she suggested, to waylay his sadness and keep him talking.
    “You may be assured of that, Miss. He is, after all, a Miracle. Blood will tell.”
    “What of Lattimore? Did he share the family’s grief?”
    Patterson regarded her with what looked like annoyance. “Certainly, Miss, although Master Lattie was only thirteen at the time.”
    Quiet for a moment, Patterson smiled slightly at what seemed a bittersweet memory. “It was the youngest who said, ‘At least a fatal injury, rather than instantaneous death, provided time for us to say farewell, and to adjust.’”
    “Did his experience make his brothers more aware of the dangers in duels and other ridiculous gestures?”
    Patterson gave her a wry smile. “No. Rather than making the young masters more cautious, Roth’s passing made life the most intriguing gamble of all. His Grace,