“May I ask why?”
“You know your father and his prideful ways,” she said. “Andrew always did have his own way of doing things.”
Corbyn clenched his jaw. “I would agree with that.”
The smile on her lips dimmed. “He has changed since you last saw him.”
“I truly doubt that.”
“No, it’s true,” she asserted. “He has grown more sentimental.”
He lifted his brow. “Did Father even ask to see me?”
His mother pressed her lips together before shifting her gaze away from him. “He didn’tnotask to see you.”
“I take that as a ‘no’, then.”
She reached out and placed her hand on the sleeve of his black jacket. “You need to reconcile with your father before it is too late.”
“I think not.”
“But you must!” she insisted in a hushed voice.
“And why is that?”
His mother grew pensive. “Just promise me that you will come visit him tomorrow.”
“I have work, Mother,” he said. “People rely on me.”
She dropped her hand and asked, “Did you think on what your brother said?”
“I did.”
With a hopeful expression on her face, she pressed, “And?”
“I have no intention of quitting my job at the Home Office to help him run the duchy,” he replied.
“But will you at least come home?”
He shook his head. “I am happy where I am.”
“Simon said you live in a hovel.”
Corbyn huffed. “I am not surprised he said that, but it is a respectable townhouse on the edge of the fashionable part of Town.”
“Perhaps I shall visit one of these days.”
“You are always welcome.”
She glanced over her shoulder before she lowered her voice. “I know Andrew wasn’t the best father to you, but I do believe he was doing the best he knew how.”
“I disagree.”
“You two are very similar,” his mother said. “You both are quite stubborn and vexing.”
Corbyn placed his glass onto the tray of a servant passing by. “And that is where our similarities end.”
“Your father is a very important man, and neither one of us can imagine the responsibilities that come with his title.”