“Even if you are right?”
Philip raised a brow. “What’s troubling you, brother?”
“I don’t know. Thinking about Mother, and Father. Will you mind if I do not marry, Philip?”
“Yes, of course I should. Very much. I should like to stand groomsman at your wedding—or I dare say you might wish Frey to do that, of course, but I want to see you married. I want nephews and nieces to spoil now that we expect no more additions to our nursery. I want to see you happy.”
Richard took a deep breath. “Suppose I were happy outside marriage?”
“Oh.” Philip considered that. “You mean—a lady you are not able to marry?”
“Precisely,” Richard lied.
“I had not thought you would—”
“Nor did I.”
“Oh,” Philip said again. “I cannot approve. You must see that. I cannot believe happiness can come through illicit connections. You don’t look happy.”
“I’m not happy. I have attempted to stick to my principles instead of pursuing my happiness and caused a deal of hurt by it.”
“Oh, Richard.” Philip put his cup down. “I’m very sorry to hear it. I suppose you have thought of all the things that I should say to this.”
“Repeatedly. You have no need to disapprove of me. I can do that myself.”
Philip thought a moment. “You must be honest,” he said at last. “I am quite sure of that. No good can come of deception. To thine own self be true—”
“Thou canst not then be false to any man,” Richard completed. “But which self should I be true to, Philip? My private self, the one who…wants? Or the public face of Lord Richard the marquess’s son, who must behave as befits a Vane?”
Philip looked alarmed. “How can you be anyone other than yourself? Of course you must behave as befits your position. You must conduct yourself as a gentleman, and you may only do that by behaving in private as you would in public. There are plenty of men who indulge in liaisons out of the eyes of the world, but really, Richard, have we not seen where such things lead?”
“Oh, yes. Mother strayed, and Father never forgave her. Imagine if he had, though, Philip. Imagine if he had understood.”
Philip gave a short, harsh laugh. Richard sighed. “I am fanciful, I know. I beg your pardon, brother. Ignore me. And don’t worry. I shall not do anything to bring discredit on the family.”
“You never would. I have every faith that you will do the right thing. Uh…I am not very good at these matters, Richard. Perhaps if you talk to Eustacia?”
“I like to talk to you,” Richard said. “I don’t expect you to provide the answers. And I care for your good opinion as yourself, not just as Cirencester.”
“You have it. And you may talk to me whenever you wish.” Philip visibly steeled himself to add, “About any subject you wish.”
I wish to God I could, Richard thought. I wish you might understand.
—
He had not called a meeting of the Ricardians that evening, but they gathered in the private rooms of Quex’s anyway as if dragged there, all of them too on edge for other society. Richard felt that as much as anyone. A note had come from Philip just before he left the house; he had shoved it into his pocket without opening it. If it was some sort of considered warning against immorality, he didn’t want to know.
No good can come of deception. That was easy to say when the truth didn’t earn you the pillory or the gallows.
“If we had only lived a generation ago, it would be simple,” Dominic was saying. “One of us could force some spurious quarrel on Maltravers and deal with him that way.”
“What, a duel? You’d be lucky,” Ash said. “Mal never fights with anyone his own size. He’s Lord Maltravers. He can’t be seen to be beaten.”
“He always made sure he had at least three henchmen at Eton,” Francis observed. He had been brutally bullied by Maltravers during their school days, as a weaver’s son who did not belong among gentlemen. It lay at the heart of their mutual hatred.
“Julius could probably force a quarrel on Maltravers,” Harry said. “He could provoke a stone when he puts his mind to it. And he’s a damned good fencer.”
“So is Richard, though less offensive,” Dominic said. “Rich, will you be our champion and challenge Maltravers for Ash’s good name? Hit him with a glove or some such.”
He and Harry carried that nonsense on for a while, talking because silence was not tolerable. Ash and Francis did not look in the mood for chatter. They were sitting close to each other, shoulder to shoulder. If sardonic, unforgiving Francis had expressed a word of blame to Ash for his folly, Richard had not seen it.