“Because you have either come to mope or ask advice. If it’s the latter I have none, and if it’s the former, I do not need your miserable face disturbing my workday.”
Roman glanced about the room. Piles of paper covered the desk, several books were open, and liquor lingered in the bottom of a glass. The other surfaces in the office fared no better, piled high with correspondence and books. Roman shuddered at the thought of his study getting into such a state.
“How you function like this I do not know.”
“Intelligent people are inherently messy.” Duke folded one hand over the other and his knuckles gave such a loud crack Roman winced. “I think one of the Bluestocking Circle members said that.”
“And we are to believe them?”
His friend eyed him coolly. “They were intelligent people, were they not? I’m fairly certain their word can be trusted.”
“Or it is a nice excuse to be slovenly.”
Duke rose to standing and gestured widely. “This is not slovenliness. This is simply how I work.”
“Speaking of work, how are things going pertaining to my aunt’s estate?”
“Quick enough, as you well know.” His friend came around the desk, pulled the stopper from a decanter with a pop and poured a healthy glass of whisky. He took a long drink then shoved back some papers to perch upon the desk. “Your aunt shall have her income returned by the end of the week.”
Roman nodded to the glass of whisky. “Not going to offer me one?”
Duke shook his head. “Not if it encourages you to stay here and mope, and I need it more than you do if I am to listen to you complain about Lady Clementine Musgrave.”
Roman’s heart gave an instant pulse of pain at the mention of her name. He fought to keep his expression neutral. “Damn it all, Duke, am I not allowed to visit with a friend now?”
“Not when you are about the stupidest man on this planet, and I have to listen to you drone on about how you had no choice and she’s clearly the wrong woman for you.”
“I never drone.” Roman straightened his shoulders. “And were you not the one always trying to convince me I’m not an imbecile?”
“Not usually you are not.” His friend sighed, poured another dash of whisky and cradled the glass in one hand. “Your father convinced you of a great many things—the first being how stupid you are.”
Now Roman really regretted stopping by Duke’s offices. The last thing he needed was a conversation about how wrong his father was.
“He was wrong, and you well know it, but you do not want to let yourself believe it.” Duke motioned to him with the glass, the amber liquid sloshing too close to the rim for Roman’s liking. A stain was going to be added to the Persian rug underfoot to finish off the general aura of chaos. “And after your behavior with Clem, you are beginning to prove him right.”
Roman felt a headache forming. “I have difficulties reading and writing, Duke. You witnessed that firsthand. You cannot blame my father for assuming the worst.”
“I damn well can.” He slammed the glass down on the table, whisky spilling onto the desk and across a book. Clementine would hate that. “I coached you and did everything I could to get you through your studies. I did what your father should have.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Roman nodded. “You practically did it for me and you know I am eternally grateful to you for that.”
“And you got me through some dark days indeed.” Duke waved a hand. “We are most certainly equal.”
Roman nodded. Duke losing his sister and mother in one fell swoop had led his friend down a dark path.
“My point is…you are no fool, and your father was wrong. About many things.” Duke stood and put a hand to Roman’s shoulder. “And you know that. You just don’t want to admit it because it will change all your grand plans.”
“I have a responsibility—”
“You have a responsibility to yourself. And, hell, to the people around you. Be happy for a damned change, Rochdale. It would make my life a lot more pleasant, for a start.”
Roman peered at his friend. He couldn’t recall the last time Duke spoke to him so brutally. Had he really been such a miserable bastard since his falling out with Clementine?
“I’m not certain I know how to be any other way, Duke,” he admitted. “I’ve lived like this for a long time.”
“You were that way with Clem.” Duke removed his hand from Roman’s shoulder. “You actually lived for a change rather than worrying what others might think.” He snatched up his whisky and rounded the table, throwing himself into the chair and taking a sip of what remained of the drink. “Now if it’s all right with you, I have work to do and you either have some more moping ahead of you or some planning as to how you will make it up to Clem. By the sounds of it, she has been as miserable as you.”
He shouldn’t like the idea of Clementine being miserable without him, but he did. “How would you know that?”