“No,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, Griff, I really am, but you have to. It’s not something you can simply turn down.” Echoing Griffith’s own thoughts. “Even if you went back to being a captain, you’d still be the Duke of Northam. Even if that’s the last thing you want.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m dying, Griffith. It might not be soon, but it is coming. And I will not leave everything to fall apart, not when I worked so hard to build it up.”

Griffith stared at his cousin, hearing the truth in his words. I’m dying.

“You knew it would happen eventually,” Frederick continued. “It’s just a bit sooner than you might have wanted.”

Griffith suppressed a snort. Because “a bit sooner” was a lot closer in time than “never.”

“But let me show you,” Frederick said. He gestured to his chair. “Push me out the doors. We can tour the estate.”

Griffith walked over and gripped the handles on the back of the chair. He gave a hesitant push, then increased the force of his push at Frederick’s sigh of exasperation.

“I’m not going to die right now, I promise. Not before showing you what I’ve done.” He sounded proud, and Griffith felt a glimmer of something—was it hope?—that this wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.

Griffith wheeled Frederick out onto the terrace, taking in the view. It was lovely here. It always had been, even through the times of neglect.

“Over there,” Frederick said, pointing to the left, “is where I put in a small garden for the household staff.” He swept his hand to the right. “And I’ve given the house where my father had his parties to the local parish. I believe they are going to set up a school there. I certainly never wanted to set foot in that house again, and I couldn’t stand to see it just be vacant.” He turned to look up at Griffith, an earnest expression on his face. “We’ve done so much more with the country estates too. I know neither one of us spent much time there growing up, but they were in terrible disarray. We’ve changed that. Robson acts as my eyes and ears, and we’ve made improvements. More can be done, Griffith.” He had a look of fierce intensity on his face, and for that moment, it seemed as though Griffith could feel Frederick’s passion.

“Not that I have a choice,” Griffith said at last, “but I’ll do it.” Because you need me to. Because people are now relying on the Duke of Northam to be more than just aristocratic deadweight. Because it’s the right thing to do.