“I’m very sorry, my lord,” he said, because there wasn’t much else to say.
“Yes. So am I.” Lord Richard’s jaw tightened. “And I could have done something. If I had just come to see her, knocked on her door…”
“She was a grown woman, my lord, responsible for herself. And your father is long dead. She had been free of him for fifteen years.”
“I don’t think she ever was,” Lord Richard said. “The letter did not read like one written by a free woman.”
The coach bowled onward.
“My mother suffered,” David said after a while.
“At your father’s hands?”
“N-no, but she had other troubles. Hard ones, and nobody could have blamed her for not wanting the added burden of a child. But she has always said that there is not a great deal of joy to be had in life, so we should snatch it when we can.”
“Your mother is wise. I don’t know if my parents were capable of joy. Certainly not together.”
“Then that was their choice, my lord. They were the Marquess and Marchioness of Cirencester. They were not hampered by the need to scrabble for food or find coals in the winter. They could have lived as they chose.”
“They could not. The position carries immense responsibilities. People depend on our stewardship. We have a duty to our family’s past and our future. My parents had obligations.”
“Philip, Lord Cirencester does not ignore his duty,” David countered, “and you have frequently told me that he is most contented.”
“Philip made the right marriage,” Lord Richard said. “Eustacia is a woman of extraordinary kindness, strength, and intelligence, and she is the daughter of a duke, brought up to occupy a high place. And that is it, Cyprian, that is the point. My mother was a very young, flawed, ordinary woman, aside from her beauty. She did not have the wealth or birth or character to match my father’s, and you see the result of that inequality.”
“Your father could have been kinder.”
“Or my mother wiser. But they were not, and it led to destruction. We should speak of last night.”
The carriage seemed suddenly rather darker. “Yes.”
“I was deeply wrong in—what I did. It was my fault entirely, and I shall not repeat that mistake. I hope you will forgive me.”
“It was not your fault, or mine. It was not a mistake. I wanted—”
Lord Richard raised his hand, a jerky movement. “Don’t say any more. What you said last night—”
“I meant it.” David was on the edge of his seat, muscles tight. “Every word.”
“Stop.” Lord Richard sounded strangled. “Stop, for both our sakes. Damn it, man.” His voice, always deep, was lower than David had ever heard it. “If things were otherwise, if you and I were on a level— But we are not, and that means it is wrong.”
“It cannot be wrong if we both choose it. How could it be?”
“Because my mother chose her marriage!” Lord Richard shouted. “Because you may choose all you like, but the question is, what happens afterwards? Dominic and I chose each other, and when he left me, it damned near cost him my friendship. What would he have done if his livelihood and his home had been at stake? If my touch becomes repellent to you, if you have needs that I cannot meet, or I have wants that you find abhorrent, yet I pay your salary, what will you do? What when I lose my temper with you, and you may not hit back?”
“I know you’re right.” David’s nails were sunk into his palm. “I know that happens, it can happen, but it does not have to happen. You cannot start every liaison in the belief that it will fail.”
“I must,” Lord Richard said. “Responsibility is the price of my position. I know damned well how much I could hurt you, and I will not. I will not.”
“You would not.”
“Easily said. And what if tonight you come to my bed?” David felt his mouth drop open. “Suppose you and I—and you find you were mistaken. In me, in your wants, in the wisdom of accepting your master’s touch. You have made a mistake. What do you do?”
“I am not mistaken,” David said. “I know you, my lord. I know your touch.”
Lord Richard twitched. “That is not an answer. Damn it, Cyprian, think. Would you say, ‘That didn’t please me, we will not do this again’? What would you say if I asked why not or suggested you reconsider? What would either of us do then?”
“I think that I would tell you the truth if that happened. I believe that you would respond with grace.”
“I should like to believe those things too,” Lord Richard said. “But I did not respond to Dominic with grace. And you have not told me the truth of this before.”