“I’m—I’m sorry,” Griffith said.

Fred shook his head. “Don’t be. Daniel was too stubborn to come in out of the rain, while Richard was a foolhardy idiot. The dukedom would have suffered if either one of them had inherited.”

“It wouldn’t have been any worse than when Uncle Richard had the title,” Griffith said bitterly. Frederick nodded in brief acknowledgment. He’d known what was happening too, but he hadn’t gotten as much abuse as Griffith. Nor had he fought back so hard. “But what about you?”

Frederick’s expression was rueful. “I am a decent enough duke, I suppose. But as Robson likely told you, and you can tell for yourself,” he said, gesturing toward himself, “I won’t be the duke for long. That is why I need you.”

Griffith’s breath caught at how blithely Frederick referenced his forthcoming demise.

“You don’t need me,” Griffith blurted out, a blind panic making him freeze in his chair. Knowing, even as he spoke, that there was no way he could refuse this. Not when Fred needed him. “I’ve got work, Fred. I can’t inherit.”

He’d lose his ship, his men, his captaincy. The things that made him feel as though he weren’t an enormous waste of human on this earth, as his parents and his uncle had always inferred when they hadn’t been actively telling him that. The only thing that had ever truly mattered to him.

And if he wasn’t at sea, who would help those people who couldn’t help themselves? He hadn’t been able to help people less fortunate than he when he’d lived here before. But since leaving, he’d felt a moral imperative to do whatever he could to help people who needed it. Sometimes it felt like a compulsion, as though he was trying to correct what had happened in the past when he didn’t have any power.

“You’re the heir, Griff. It’s that simple. You can’t refuse, not without upending the whole system.” Frederick spoke in an urgent tone. Articulating what Griffith already knew.

Griffith rose, unable to sit still any longer. Arguing even as he felt the vise tighten. “I’ve already upended the system.” He turned to Frederick, his hands held palm up. “For God’s sake, I left over twelve years ago. Nobody has called me ‘my lord’ or even knows who I am in the Navy. I got to where I am on my own merit, not because of some title. I cannot go back to this world, your world.”

The silence hung in the room, Frederick looking thoughtful as he processed what Griffith had said. At least he was listening. Fred had always listened to him.