Page 26 of The Duke of Kisses
His uncle cleared his throat and fixed David with a serious stare. “You made a promise to your father. And he made a promise to Yardley Stoke.”
“I can’t be required to fulfill a promise my father made before I was even born.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Marriages have been arranged for centuries,” his mother said, still frowning. “This was very important to your father, and if you can’t honor his promise, then honor yours.”
It had seemed an easy thing as he’d held his father’s hand in those final hours. The infection had taken complete hold of him, and his moments of lucidity had become few. But during one such respite, his eyes had been clear when he’d asked David to honor a very specific request: marry the daughter of his dearest friend. They’d attended Cambridge together and had hoped to unite their families one day. While David hadn’t ever met Miss Stoke, his father had, and he’d sworn she was beautiful and intelligent and would make him an excellent countess. His father had hoped she and David would fall in love as soon as they met. Then he’d retreated into his delirium once more, speaking of romantic, endless love and happiness that knew no equal.
David fought against the duty and the love he felt for his father tugging at him from within. “This is not an arranged marriage.”
Uncle Walter spoke with a carefully bland expression that didn’t reveal how he felt about the matter—which he often employed—and David didn’t know. “Perhaps not legally, but your father thought of it as such, and I believe Stoke does as well.”
“Does he?” David wasn’t certain of that either. In fact, his father had said official promises had not been made—not to Miss Stoke and not to her father. Still, there was perhaps an expectation, and if he didn’t mean to at least attempt to see if he and Miss Stoke would suit, he should inform them immediately.
David abruptly stood, eager to quit the room and this conversation. He missed his father dreadfully, and he hated the idea of disappointing him. And yet, how could he turn away from the incomparable Fanny?
His mother looked up at him, her lips pressed in a perturbed moue. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve a meeting with Graham.”
“Oh.” She seemed mollified by this excuse—David hoped Graham was about. “Do give him our best.”
“Of course. He’ll join us for dinner.” He bowed to her, then turned to his uncle and inclined his head before stalking from the room.
He descended the stairs with speed and purpose, agitation propelling him to his study, where, thankfully, Graham sat at his desk poring over ledgers. He looked up as David walked in.
“I hear the countess and Walter have arrived.”
“Yes.”
Graham started to rise, but David waved him back down. “Sit. I’m getting a drink. Do you want one?”
“When would I refuse?”
Never. David went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of the whisky he’d brought back from a trip to Scotland two years ago. He delivered one to Graham, who received it with an appreciative nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure of drinking with you at this hour?”
David slumped into the chair next to the desk with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He took a long draught of the liquor and briefly closed his eyes as he rolled it over his tongue before swallowing.
He turned a weary expression toward Graham, who sipped his drink. “I have a vexing dilemma.”
“Allow me to help. If I can.”
“I’ve met someone.”
Graham nodded slowly. “I suspected as much. You were being rather evasive yesterday regarding your social interest.”
David arched a brow as he stifled a chuckle. “Social interest?”
“You’ve never had any before, and suddenly you wanted to attend a bloody ball? I didn’t believe that for a moment. It had to be a woman.” He sipped his whisky and sat forward in his chair, setting the glass on the desk before him. “Who is she?”
“I met her over the Christmas holiday while I was out for a walk. She’s the sister-in-law of the Duke of Clare.”
Graham blew out a breath with a slight whistle. “Well, that ought to have pleased your mother.”
“I didn’t tell her. She immediately brought up Miss Stoke.”
Graham’s ebony brows shot up, and he nodded. “Of course she did. And honestly, if you’d told me about this woman yesterday,Iwould have brought up Miss Stoke.”
David scowled at him. “Not you too.”
