Page 22 of Ravishing Among the Roses
“I will not bother His Grace with such triviality. Go and take them to your young lady.”
Edmund nodded, gratitude flowing in his veins like a light sea breeze on a hot day. He grabbed his coat, went out into the terrible December weather, and called a hackney. Thinking of spring while the cold winter wind whipped around him had him shivering and when the cab driver asked where he was headed, he dithered. George or Gabriel? Duty first.
“To Kelmscotts.”
George greeted him in the yellow drawing room. “I heard a rumour that my father is sick.”
“Yes.” Edmund tensed, waiting for the snide comment, but this was George, who merely leaned back in his chair.
“There are no secrets in this town. It can’t be serious as he’s sent no word, unless you are here...” George straightened, his frown deepening.
“He didn’t send me, but it is serious. He has rose gardener’s disease.”
“Pardon?”
“A few weeks ago at a ball, he didn’t like the way Bennington spoke to him about you, and so he ordered the gardeners to destroy my Himalayan musk rose. Unfortunately he made theerror of picking up a branch without gloves and got a thorn stuck in his palm. Rose thorns carry a disease and now he has it.”
“What disease?”
“No one understands it. But it causes pustules that grow from the original wound and there is no cure.”
“His Grace is dying?”
Edmund swallowed. “I believe so, yes. I asked my friend Jean-Pierre Vibert in a letter and his reply arrived yesterday. A few people have been known to survive if the infection is stopped early, but once it begins to spread there are no records of survivors. And no known treatment.”
“Oh.” George’s young face flushed and he brushed his palms over his eyes. “Did he mention me?”
The hope in George’s question tied a knot in Edmund’s stomach. He shook his head slowly.
“The stubborn fool. Will he go to his death having banished his heir?”
Edmund suddenly realised that everything would be different with George as the Duke. His brother would’ve twisted this situation to suit him, but George showed true anger, real emotion at the situation, and this marked him as different. More humane.
“I asked him.”
George leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his eyes wide open. Hopefully. “And?”
“He said his door was always open.”
George frowned. “That’s all he said?”
“In those words. He knows my door is always open.”
“But ... but that is not an apology.”
Edmund nodded slowly. He had been disappointed by the comment and now he knew why it had been a pointless thing for his brother to say. “It’s not in his character to apologise. If you want to reconcile, I can try to help that happen.” He wasn’t surehow he would do that, given the way his brother didn’t listen to him, but for George he could try.
“No. I’m not sure why I should be the one to reach out when he was the one who banished me.”
Edmund agreed, or maybe he didn’t. Complicated moments like this always took him a while to navigate. He wanted some time to figure out what he should do. He could see George’s opinion but his brother was dying and didn’t that mean something, or maybe it only increased everyone’s position, in which case George was correct.
“I can’t believe he would banish me over something as small as the school rowing team, and now he’s dying he wants to pretend that he never did that, and that I should be the one to return to him and beg forgiveness? No. He wronged me and if he can’t acknowledge that, or bring himself to apologise, he can go to his grave—”
“George. As much as I agree, whatever you decide now is forever.”
George slumped in the chair. “Isn’t that the same for him?”
“I don’t understand.” Edmund hated when conversations became all twisted and this one was too complicated for him.
