Page 10 of A Duchess Bound
Gerard hummed. Pontoun had been the second-born son and had already decided to become a professor or a barrister. His brother’s death had thrust the titleDuke of St. Claireupon him, however, and curtailed any dreams of a scholarly profession.
Gerard had vague recollections of Pontoun, shortly after receiving the title, still trying to pursue his scholarly pursuits. Managing the dukedom was no simple task, though, and Pontoun had found himself perpetually exhausted. After a while, he was forced to choose, and there was no question that he must choose the dukedom.
Sometimes, Gerard wondered if his friend still mourned the life that he could have had as a happy scholar.
“But no—Idowant to know,” Pontoun said.
“Are you certain, Ponty?” Gerard asked, grinning. “I would not want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”
“My sensibilities are not delicate. They are like iron.” He smirked. “They must be, having you as a friend.”
“I am touched.”
Pontoun leaned forward, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. “I am always conflicted by you. I do think it is far past time for you to cease with your rakish ways, my friend.”
Gerard groaned theatrically. “Do not say it!”
“You are five-and-thirty years old,” Pontoun continued mercilessly. “You are unmarried and without an heir. It is far past time for you to fulfill your duties to the dukedom.”
“Never,” Gerard said.
Eventually, he would have to do precisely that, but he was still young and lively. There would be ample time to find a duchess and bear heirs. Being a duke with a considerable fortune, he did not imagine it would be difficult to find a duchess either.
“So dramatic,” Pontoun said. “A pity that you could not become an actor. You would have been magnificent on the stage.”
“According to Shakespeare, all the world is a stage.”
Pontoun raised his glass in a mock toast. “Well said.”
“Thank you. Now, what is this about you beingconflictedby me?”
“I want to chastise you for behaving like you do,” Pontoun said, shaking his head ruefully. “However, I also greatly enjoy your stories. You always find yourself in the strangest situations.”
“This one was not particularly strange.”
Gerard swirled his glass, gazing thoughtfully at the brandy climbing the sides of it. He was thinking, of course, of Lady Dorothy. Ever since their tumultuous meeting, he found her occupying his every waking thought and a large portion of his dreams.
It had only been a week since the ball, but that usually provided him with sufficient time to lose interest in a lady. He found that something about her memory endured, however, and he could not quite decide why.
“Oh?” Pontoun asked. “Do tell.”
“It was an interesting encounter. Do you know Lady Dorothy Leedway? Her brother is the Duke of Reeds.”
Pontoun frowned. “The names are—ah, yes. Her sister married the Duke of Sarsen.”
“Yes.”
“A spinster, isn’t she?” Pontoun asked. “I recall hearing some gossip in that vein. Rather than choosing to wed, she decided to devote her life to ensuring that her siblings were safe and happy. That was quite noble of her.”
He bit the inside of his cheek. Gerard had mostly come to peace with his lonely childhood, but sometimes, the memory of it would sweep over him and catch him unaware. He hoped Leedway and his sisters knew how fortunate they were to have someone looking after them.
After Gerard’s mother died, there had been no one, and anyone who had tried to take care of him had quickly gone from his life. He had vague memories of a young footman who had indulged him too much, had let him hide from his governess and run like a wild thing throughout the gardens. Gerard’s father had dismissed that young man when he learned about ithat had the man’s name been? Gerard realized, with mounting discomfort, that he did not remember.
“A spinster is unusual for you,” Pontoun added, oblivious to the direction in which Gerard’s thoughts had gone.
“I had not intended to speak to Lady Dorothy,” Gerard said. “I had hoped to charm her sister, Lady Bridget. This is her first Season.”
“Ah. That sounds more like you,” Pontoun said. “I assume that you did not succeed?”
