Page 32 of Once Upon a Devilish Duke

Charles’s guilty look had Edward sighing. “Does Gabrielle do everything for you? Does she brush your teeth and hold your prick while you pee?”

“Do not be ridiculous. Of course, she does not hold my…”

“But she does run your estate. Is that correct?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “She offered, and she knew I was already busy with my scientific endeavors.”

He could contain himself no longer. “You lazy bastard. She runs your house, your estate, and your family, and what do you do? Run around catching butterflies or some such thing.”

“I do not run around catching butterflies, I’ll have you know. I am at the moment collecting fungi and drying them, cataloging the different varieties. It is important work.”

Edward’s chest constricted in a strange way. Was it shock, horror, or hopelessness that he felt? “Charles, when I die, you will be the duke. I’m sorry, but there is no way around it. You cannot foist that duty onto your wife as well while you spend your days collecting…mushrooms.”

“I do know that. I am not an idiot, Edward. I would have coped with it when the time came, but the time has not come and I am not ready.” Charles blinked a few times, and then his head came up with a snap. “Good God. Are you dying? Is that why you are giving it to me now? Does Mother know?”

Edward laughed. He had to. “I am not dying. Though you can pretend I am if that will make you cope with it better.”

Charles grimaced at his own words played back at him. “You know,” he said. “I have just realized that I do not know my brothers as much as I thought I did. Tony with his mysterious position doing who knows what with secrets and rings and things. And now you are passing off your ducal duties to me when you are not dying. It is all confusion. Next I’ll find out my sister is secretly singing in an opera or something.”

“Well, I’m afraid you will have to work on that yourself. I have directed the mail to you from now on. Do not disappoint me, and if I hear that Gabrielle has been doing it, I swear I will lock you in here, with me, to do it. There is room for a desk over there,” he said, pointing to the right-hand side of the room. “Do I make myself clear?”

Charles frowned at the corner but nodded.

“Do you want tea?” he asked, not wanting to be accused of being impolite after his brother’s last visit.

Charles glanced up at him as Edward dumped a bundle of letters into his hands. “Tea? Ah, no, I thank you.”

“Good. I have an appointment with the House of Lords.” Edward knew he could have been a little more patient with his brother, but really, he was not in the mood to cajole his sibling any further.

Chapter Eight

The House of Lords was a mass of voices, all speaking over each other. A lively discussion that sometimes did not yield a resolution despite the volume of the objections. It was true that Edward was more of a spectator these days. If the subject was something he thought truly needed his voice, he would add it. He did so rarely, but when he did, he knew his opinions were noted. And he knew his vote mattered when it came down to it.

Today, the subject of the slave trade came up again. An issue Edward had thought had been well and truly put to bed. Apparently not. Lord Morland was issuing his thoughts, saying how was he to run his sugar plantation if he could not import more slaves? That slavery was a necessary part of commerce in the Caribbean. The majority were in favor of finalizing the abolition of the trade altogether, with a treaty with Spain and Portugal in the works, they were asking why not the Caribbean as well?

Edward saw Dunstan across the room and acknowledged him with a nod of his head. It seemed the debate had reached a crescendo and ended with Lord Morland storming out to taunts and jeers. As entertaining as watching Morland being humiliated was, he decided to leave when the discussion turned to economic issues and the Bank of England’s management of public revenue.

Out in the corridor, Dunstan caught up with him. “I see why you do not trust Morland. Though I feel he is too self-absorbed to be our man.”

They turned into a smaller hallway so they could talk more openly. “Could he be using it as a cover? He seems ambitious enough to value greed over…people.”

“Unlikely. If I were the mole, I would want to spread my flattery to those I knew had loose lips. Get in with them, and after a bottle of whatever tickles their fancy, who knows what information they might share.” Dunstan shook his head. “Morland is an arse and he doesn’t care who knows it. He’s rich and has connections with the East India Company, and he intends to keep his wealth in any way possible.”

“You did do your homework.” Edward frowned and looked around him before saying, “Do you know anything about the delegates from the Americas coming here?”

“I had heard rumors. It is mostly to talk boundaries, yes?”

Edward nodded. “I think that the mole may be selling our ideas on the boundaries and lakes to the Americans so that they will have an upper hand when they come to negotiate.”

“That would not be surprising. Not many know about it, although it has been discussed briefly in the House. No details of our specific plan have been heard. What is our plan?”

“I cannot go into details either. Just keep vigilant, and if you hear anyone mention the Convention, you let me know.”

“Do you not hear things when you are here?”

“Of course, but things are not said to me in confidence. I do not have that kind of relationship with my fellow lords.” When he saw the pity on Dunstan’s face, he felt he had to add, “And that is the way I like it. That is why I have you.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Dunstan said, “Your Grace, may I enquire after your sister? She was not pleased to see me the other day, and I do not blame her. I only wish to apologize to her, but I feel she will not let me have the chance to do so.”