Page 65 of A Duchess Bound
Pontoun smiled wryly. “I suppose we have that in common.”
“Yes.” Concerned that Pontoun might seize the opportunity to complain about his own romantic prospects, Gerard decided to move the conversation to safer waters. “I am thinking of devoting some time to a social cause.”
“And what has brought this on?”
“A flight of fancy,” Gerard said loftily. “Since I have no lady with whom I may occupy my time, it seems as though I ought to find some pursuit.”
“And what cause are you hoping to champion?”
Gerard frowned. His thoughts went to Dorothy, although she certainly did not need his help.
“Perhaps, young ladies,” he said carefully. “I believe the Duke of Reeds has mentioned funding a seminary for ladies. Perhaps, I shall see if he would like another lord to aid him in that endeavor.”
“And you have no other reasons for wishing to help him?” Pontoun asked.
None. In truth, it was simply the first cause that came to mind.
“You know that I am fond of the fairer sex,” Gerard said. “It occurs to me that I might do something for them, especially the disadvantaged women in London.”
“That is surprisingly chivalric of you.”
Gerard shook his head. “It is something to do. Perhaps, it is the melancholy of the Season, but I am beginning to feel as though I ought to be doing more with my position.”
He was not entirely lying. Sitting there, it had occurred to Gerard that he was not doing enough. He spent his days drinking in White’s, as he presently was, and bedding an endless litany of ladies. Of late, a strange discontent had begun to creep over him like the first frost of autumn.
Gerard could not identify the source of his discontent, for nothing in his life had changed. Except for Dorothy, he supposed.
“If you require my assistance, do not hesitate to ask,” Pontoun said. “I have seldom been involved in social causes, but I am passionate about education. Maybe I could help you with the seminary as a means of…indulging in my affection for learning.”
Gerard softened a little. He looked sideways at his friend, observing the calm set of his friend’s face and his thoughtful eyes. “How are you managing? It cannot always be easy for you.”
Pontoun sighed deeply. “It is not.”
Gerard said nothing. He had never been especially adept at providing comfort to another person.
“Sometimes, it feels like I am drowning beneath all the expectations, but I imagine that I could be doing worse. Right?”
Gerard thought of his own father. That was not entirely fair, for his father had been a fair duke, as far as he knew. It seemed as though being an adequate duke did not mean that one would inherently be a good father.Like father, like son,Gerard thought wryly.
At least, Gerard would have the decency not to have children of his own, if it could be helped at all. His cousin could have the title. Gerard barely knew the man, but he was decent, if a little boring.
“Do you enjoy being the Duke of Greenway?” Pontoun asked suddenly.
Gerard blinked, a little taken aback. “Have I given you the impression that I do not?”
“No, but it occurs to me that I have never asked. You have spent your whole life knowing that you would be the Duke of Greenway. I doubt it ever occurred to you to do anything else with your life. Do you ever wish you had the choice?”
Gerard frowned. “I do not know who I would be if I were not the Duke of Greenway. I think it would be better to have no choice than to have my choice taken from me, though.”
Pontoun sighed. “I suppose you are right. But for argument’s sake, if you could be something else, what would you be? Think about it.”
“An adventurer,” he said flippantly, unthinkingly. “I would spend my days touring the continent, and once I tired of that, I would sail to America. Maybe I would reinvent myself—use a different name, lie about where I come from. It sounds like a merry jest.”
“I suppose it does,” Pontoun said. “But I fear that I no longer have the stamina that I once did. I would soon become tired of the travel.”
“Nonsense,” Gerard said. “You would enjoy seeing everything so much that you would never become tired. Can you imagine it? Just traveling for your entire life without a care in the world? Without any responsibilities to worry about?”
Pontoun sighed. “I do like the thought of not having responsibilities, but if I could choose, I would still become a professor. Somewhere nice. Perhaps Edinburgh.”
