George turned his head to smile at him.
“You made a good choice, Ralph,” he said. “I am not sure you are fully aware of that fact yet. But it was a good choice.”
They were on their way to Hugo’s house for a late luncheon, just for the men. Lady Trentham was out somewhere with family members and had taken Hugo’s young sister with her.
“Well, you two look grand enough to stop a few female hearts,” Hugo said, looking over their court dress when they arrived. “Come and tell this poor commoner all about it.”
Hugo was a commoner, or had been. His father had been a wealthy businessman of solidly middle-class background. Hugo’s title had been awarded him after he had led a bloody and successful attack in Spain.
George had to leave after they had eaten. He had asked Chloe earlier when he had brought his carriage to take Ralph to court if he might have the honor of driving her in the park later in the afternoon.
“If I know your husband, Duchess,” he had said, “and I believe I do know him a little, he will answer all your questions about the levee with monosyllables. I, on the other hand, will tell you everything.”
“I would be delighted to be seen in the park with you even without that incentive,” she had said, laughing. “Everything?”
“Every sordid detail.” George had even winked at her. Ralph did not believe he had ever before seen George wink.
After they left, Hugo and Ralph settled back at the table with a pot of coffee between them, Ralph having declined anything stronger.
“Well, lad,” Hugo said.
Ralph poured them both a cup and added some cream to his own. Those words had not been meaningless. Hugo had always had a way of indicating that he was ready to allow the conversation to become serious. Big and seemingly gruff though he was, he had always been a sensitive listener, though sometimes he had been the one needing to talk. That was what had made their group so close knit. They all took from it. And they all gave back to it in equal measure.
Another thing about Hugo was that he was not intimidated by silence. He never rushed to fill it when he knew his companion needed time.
“Do you feel that Lady Trentham is your superior, Hugo?” Ralph asked him at last.
Hugo pursed his lips and considered.
“My grampa dropped his aitches more often than not,” he said, “and ate his food with his knife and both elbows on the table. He had a Yorkshire accent so thick you could have cut it with his own knife. My pa’s accent was only slightly thinner. They made their money the hard way, the vulgar way, if you like. Gwen’s blood is blue to the very heart. There is hardly a member of her family that does not have a title attached to his name—or hers. And most of them are titles that go back for generations. Is Gwen my superior? No, she is not. Nor am I hers. She is not up there on a pedestal with stars about her head for a tiara while I grovel down here worshiping and adoring. And I am not up there, the great military hero, while she bats her eyelashes with adoration from down here. It just would not work either way, Ralph. We are equal. We are together. We are one. I do sound more than a bit daft, don’t I? But you did ask.”
Ralph gazed into the cup he held in one hand.
“You think the duchess is your superior?” Hugo asked.
Ralph looked up at him and set down his cup.
“That evening when we were at the theater with George,” he said. “Viscount Harding and his wife were there.”
“Harding?” Hugo clearly did not know whom he was talking about.
“Their son was with me in the Peninsula,” Ralph explained. “Tom.”
“Ah.” Hugo understood. He knew about Tom and Max and Rowland. “Did they see you?”
“I looked away before our eyes met,” Ralph told him. “But, yes, I think so.”
“Ah, lad.” Hugo sighed. “I am not going to tell you that you ought to have gone to see them long ago, or written to them at the very least. I am not going to tell you that you are not as responsible for their son’s death as you believe you are. I am not going to suggest that they may not hate you as much as you believe they do. I am not going to tell you anything. I have been where you are, even if my case was a bit different from yours. I still find myself in that place occasionally, and a deep, dark place it is. I know getting over it is not a simple matter of willing it away. Most people would not understand. I do. What is the connection between the Hardings and your duchess being your superior?”
Ralph pushed his cup and saucer away, his coffee untouched.
“She went to call on Hitching,” he said, “the morning after Muirhead told her the truth about her birth. It was the very last thing she wanted to do. But what else was there when she is likely to meet him and his family innumerable times this spring and in the coming years? I went with her, Hugo. She was terrified. She even went with Hitching to meet his wife and his daughter and son. They did not greet her warmly. I can only imagine what it must all have felt like for Chloe. Good God, Hugo, Hitching is her father. But she did it. I thought she might need to lean on me a bit, but she did not. She did it all herself. I am not fit to kiss the hem of her dress. That sounds theatrical. But I am not.”
“Because you cannot get up the courage to call on Harding and his wife?” Hugo said.
“I would probably do more harm than good if I did,” Ralph said.
“To whom, lad?” Hugo asked quietly.
Ralph closed his eyes and clenched one hand on the tabletop.