Benjamin watched wordlessly as the old man settled himself into the chair and adjusted his papers.
“I tried to tell your brother the same thing, but he did not listen. It cost him everything. Had he heeded my advice to find a wife, his lineage would be intact, and you would not be in the seat you are in. Yet, here we are. I have to tell you, I have more hope for your success than I did Elijah’s. The boy was much too serious.”
“Why are you here?” Benjamin repeated, unable to speak so freely of his brother’s death.
“Straight to the point, I can respect that. I only wished to inform you that your investments are doing exceptionally well. It has been a long time since I have seen these estates in such good condition. Perhaps it was even before your father’s time.”
“You knew my father?” Benjamin’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Mister Marwood’s history with his family.
“And his father too. I have been working with the Dukes of Ferndown my entire life. I doubt even your brother knew as much about the title as I do. I think you are doing your family proud in how you have stepped into your responsibilities.”
Benjamin couldn’t hold the man’s gaze any longer at those words. Something in his chest seemed to crack, like his grip on his grief was slipping, threatening to take over.
“A word of caution, Your Grace?”
It seemed out of place that Mister Marwood would ask permission before giving his opinion, still, Benjamin raised his eyes to the man once more, waiting expectantly.
“Do not lurk where the ton cannot see you.”
Benjamin felt his eyes grow wide as the solicitor echoed the words Benjamin had told his butler only moments before.
“It does you no good to keep so many secrets. It will only create distance between you and those who want to love you.”
A knot twisted in his stomach. Benjamin was keeping many secrets — the things he saw in France, his identity, even the letters with Felicity felt like a secret, and they were all such heavy things to carry.
“It is time for you to announce your brother’s death and to publicly accept the title. People will question why you have hidden his passing for so long already. Delay no longer.” Marwood held up his hand to stop Benjamin from interrupting. “I know you and your poor mother are still grieving, but it is time you face the battle that lies ahead as it is one of many that will come in your war to be the kind of duke you are striving to be. I will go and say no more. Send word when you have need of me.”
With a creaky nod goodbye, the solicitor eased from the room before Benjamin realized he had said only a dozen words the entire meeting. Letting the man’s words permeate his mind, Benjamin sat unmoving and unaware of the hours that passed. It wasn’t until a soft knock sounded at the door that Benjamin was pulled from his thoughts and forced back into reality.
“Enter,” he called, his voice graveling from his silence.
“Benjamin.”
“Mother,” he said as he stood, “I did not expect you here. Is everything all right? When did you arrive?”
Concern etched his face as he took in her familiar face. The deep-set lines that framed her mouth from a lifetime of laughter only exacerbated the frown she wore now. Her eyes, the same shade of brown as his own, seemed listless and despondent. Helplessness plagued him as they embraced and then moved to sit in front of the fireplace.
“There is nothing for you to worry about,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek as if she needed to reassure herself that he was there.
“What made you decide to join me here? Your company is most welcome, but I was just under the impression that you would be spending the season in the country.”
His words tumbled out of him. The last thing he wanted was to make his mother think she was not wanted, but he could not help but think the ton would be no good for her in her current fragile state.
“I thought a change of scenery would do me some good.” She sounded tired as she explained, “I have always loved the city.”
He nodded, unsure of what to say next. Uncomfortable by the heavy silence, he stood and rang for tea.
“It is time, Benjamin.” He spun at her words. “I am done hiding.”
“Mother —”
“No. I know your reasons for wanting to wait, but I cannot survive alone. I know you think it is not good for me, but the balls and operas and gossip would be a welcome distraction from…” Her voice broke then.
In two steps, Benjamin was back by her side, an arm around her shoulders as a sob tore free. He hated how helpless he felt. After a few moments, his mother’s breath evened out, and she straightened, looking at him through unshed tears.
“I cannot play a charade. I cannot pretend that he is still here.”
“I know,” Benjamin whispered, rubbing what he hoped was soothing circles on her back.