“Admit it, Gregory. You just don’t want to be a vicar. You were only humoring Father. Rather callous of you, if you ask me.”

“I am not asking you.” Gregory wondered briefly if his brother was right, at least a little. No, humoring wasn’t the right word. He’d truly explored a religious career along with others, and in the end, he didn’t want to be a vicar or a bishop. While his father’s death had helped him reach that decision, Gregory was confident he would have got there eventually. And he would have discussed it with his father, who would—Gregory believed—have supported him.

But there was no point in debating any of this with Clifford. He always chose to believe what he wanted, what fit his expectations and perspective.

Clifford glanced toward Ash, who was digging a hole near the hedgerow. “Where do you go with that dog?”

“Walking.”

“Seems like you’re gone a long time.” Clifford waved his hand. “Or so Susan says. I don’t pay a bloody bit of attention.” He laughed heartily.

Gregory didn’t like that Susan was noting his behavior. He’d make a point of doing something different tomorrow. He’d take a ride and leave Ash at home. Hopefully, Evie wouldn’t mind.

He had to think she wouldn’t. Ash could be most distracting, especially at inopportune moments. He’d learned after the first day with him to bring a special treat. It was tucked into his coat pocket, tightly wrapped in paper so Ash couldn’t smell it.

Clifford’s brows drew together, and he grew serious. “Speaking of Susan, she wanted me to make sure you do your part to ensure Mrs. Renshaw attends the Yuletide party. It’s the least you can do since you talked me into hosting the damn thing.”

“It’s your duty as the marquess. Don’t you want to foster good will and cheer in the community?”

Making a face, Clifford grunted. “I don’t give a damn about any of that. If Susan weren’t keen to show off the house and play marchioness, I wouldn’t bother.”

Sometimes, Gregory couldn’t believe his brother was so insensitive. “She isn’t playing marchioness. She is the marchioness.”

“You know what I mean.” Clifford snorted again. “Always so bloody stiff. Back to Mrs. Renshaw. Seems like you and she are friendly, so if you see her, make sure she comes to the party.” His brown eyes darkened with suspicion. “Just how friendly are you?”

Gregory understood what his brother was getting at, but refused to engage him on the matter. It wasn’t just that he’d promised Evie to keep their affair secret. He had no wish to share his joy with Clifford. That thought made Gregory feel a bit badly. Was that what their relationship had become?