there for me…years ago.
When I got Elena with child. I met with him recently, and we spoke
long on the years since.”
“Whose idea was it that I should delay asking
for Caroline?
“Mine. My selfish idea. You are my first-born
Jules, my heir, and I stand here in amazement at your princely mien
and masculine perfection. Did I not know what it was that made you
aloof and so in control, I would be as in awe of your reputation as
the ton is. However, I know only too well, what lies behind
detachment—when a man makes himself an island because he is forced
to, In order to protect himself against feeling.
Only, it does not work Jules. It is no insult
against Lady Caroline if I deduce you are intent on the match for
all the reasons one of your station does—that we all did. She may
well be the exception, but I challenge you to convince me that you
know her—truly know her, or yourself. Tell me you feel some
affection for her?”
Of course, Jules could not do that. His life
was calculated, which was the only way to get where he was, and
stay there.
Taking the glass to the sideboard, Jules
answered instead, “What is it you expect of me?” He let the glass
land with a click and turned to face the Duke. “Of us? We are grown
men. I cannot comfort you with the prospect of some happy reunion
between myself and Blaise, or Raith. I don’t know what you imagine
I can do.”
Artis replied, “Blaise needs our help. He
will not ask for it. He bloody should have never gone back to war
after the last wound nearly killed him. Now this—. I cannot imagine
how a man of such energy and passion for what he does, what he
seemed born for—is taking this. I dared not pull any strings or
interfere in any of his decisions. It killed me not to, but as you
say, you are men. And Blaise was ever a fierce one.”
Jules smiled slightly, and for the first time
in his father’s presence, he realized. Normally, their meetings
were so strained and distant that they exchanged only civilities.
He was starting to see another side of his sire. Whilst it was
enlightening, it was also somewhat unnerving, because he had an
image of Artis that was akin to an emotionless and detached
aristocrat.
Amazing what one held inside, behind the
façade.
“I followed the war closely. Blaise was much
discussed in the clubs and coffeehouses.” Jules relaxed enough to
supply, “Although others speculated on his reasons for
recklessness, I discerned he wanted to return and finish it after
Napoleon escaped. He deserved and earned the right to be a part of
that.”
“At a high cost.”
“He would have made Admiral, eventually.”
“Yes.” Artis smiled faintly. “I remember his
scraps as a boy, always in trouble for bucking the rules. Odd, I
thought, that he should go in the Navy. But later, I realized it
was where he fit.”
“It was also an escape.” Jules stared at
him.
“Yes.” Artis looked around the room and then
back at him. “He got to expend his anger at the same time it kept
him away from home, from Matilda, and from me, I expect.”
“It was the atmosphere we all escaped, the
indifference on your part, the bitter sternness, the rigidity of
hers—the isolation.” Jules shrugged. “He chose a life where he
enjoyed camaraderie and brotherhood.”
Artis nodded and did not challenge that
summation. “I don’t know what I expect, the best, I suppose. I
shall see him myself. However, I hope you will do so. He may take
some assistance from you, better than I.”
“And Raith?”
“We must find him, Jules. The missive hinted
that he knew who killed his wife—and that the man was wealthy,
possibly in our very circles.”
“Are you sure?” Jules was swiftly sifting
faces of peers and wealthy men, through is mind.
“I know little. Which is why it is urgent we
try to find him. If it was the prince himself, I shall stand with
Raith and see him hung. But I fear…I fear… because of lies and the
life Raith has led, what darkness he has
When I got Elena with child. I met with him recently, and we spoke
long on the years since.”
“Whose idea was it that I should delay asking
for Caroline?
“Mine. My selfish idea. You are my first-born
Jules, my heir, and I stand here in amazement at your princely mien
and masculine perfection. Did I not know what it was that made you
aloof and so in control, I would be as in awe of your reputation as
the ton is. However, I know only too well, what lies behind
detachment—when a man makes himself an island because he is forced
to, In order to protect himself against feeling.
Only, it does not work Jules. It is no insult
against Lady Caroline if I deduce you are intent on the match for
all the reasons one of your station does—that we all did. She may
well be the exception, but I challenge you to convince me that you
know her—truly know her, or yourself. Tell me you feel some
affection for her?”
Of course, Jules could not do that. His life
was calculated, which was the only way to get where he was, and
stay there.
Taking the glass to the sideboard, Jules
answered instead, “What is it you expect of me?” He let the glass
land with a click and turned to face the Duke. “Of us? We are grown
men. I cannot comfort you with the prospect of some happy reunion
between myself and Blaise, or Raith. I don’t know what you imagine
I can do.”
Artis replied, “Blaise needs our help. He
will not ask for it. He bloody should have never gone back to war
after the last wound nearly killed him. Now this—. I cannot imagine
how a man of such energy and passion for what he does, what he
seemed born for—is taking this. I dared not pull any strings or
interfere in any of his decisions. It killed me not to, but as you
say, you are men. And Blaise was ever a fierce one.”
Jules smiled slightly, and for the first time
in his father’s presence, he realized. Normally, their meetings
were so strained and distant that they exchanged only civilities.
He was starting to see another side of his sire. Whilst it was
enlightening, it was also somewhat unnerving, because he had an
image of Artis that was akin to an emotionless and detached
aristocrat.
Amazing what one held inside, behind the
façade.
“I followed the war closely. Blaise was much
discussed in the clubs and coffeehouses.” Jules relaxed enough to
supply, “Although others speculated on his reasons for
recklessness, I discerned he wanted to return and finish it after
Napoleon escaped. He deserved and earned the right to be a part of
that.”
“At a high cost.”
“He would have made Admiral, eventually.”
“Yes.” Artis smiled faintly. “I remember his
scraps as a boy, always in trouble for bucking the rules. Odd, I
thought, that he should go in the Navy. But later, I realized it
was where he fit.”
“It was also an escape.” Jules stared at
him.
“Yes.” Artis looked around the room and then
back at him. “He got to expend his anger at the same time it kept
him away from home, from Matilda, and from me, I expect.”
“It was the atmosphere we all escaped, the
indifference on your part, the bitter sternness, the rigidity of
hers—the isolation.” Jules shrugged. “He chose a life where he
enjoyed camaraderie and brotherhood.”
Artis nodded and did not challenge that
summation. “I don’t know what I expect, the best, I suppose. I
shall see him myself. However, I hope you will do so. He may take
some assistance from you, better than I.”
“And Raith?”
“We must find him, Jules. The missive hinted
that he knew who killed his wife—and that the man was wealthy,
possibly in our very circles.”
“Are you sure?” Jules was swiftly sifting
faces of peers and wealthy men, through is mind.
“I know little. Which is why it is urgent we
try to find him. If it was the prince himself, I shall stand with
Raith and see him hung. But I fear…I fear… because of lies and the
life Raith has led, what darkness he has
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