It was an oath and a promise, even as it was a death knell for everything Griffith wanted and worked for just the day before.

“I know you will.” Frederick wheeled over to his desk, gesturing for Griffith to follow him. “We have to get started, six months isn’t a very long time.”

After an hour, Griffith was regretting every altruistic bone in his body, his horror growing the longer Frederick laid out all of Griffith’s new responsibilities.

Not only did he need to learn everything possible about the estates and the people whose lives he would be directly affecting, he also would have to venture into Society.

“I can’t just hole up here?” Griffith said, glancing around Frederick’s sickroom. “They want to meet me as little as I want to meet them.”

“That is where you are wrong, cousin,” Frederick said with a grin as he looked up from the accounts he was showing to Griff. “You’ll dazzle them with your adventures, and they will have no choice but to welcome the black sheep into the fold. The flock, I should say,” he continued. “Those Society vultures will welcome you into their glittering den.”

Griffith shook his head. “Clearly you would much prefer to be a member of the animal kingdom than a duke—sheep, vultures, a den?”

Frederick paused, his expression growing serious. “There was one time when I wished I was as brave as you, Griff. Running off and doing whatever I wanted, regardless of who it affected.”

Griffith winced at the implicit criticism—it affected me, his cousin might as well have shouted. Had he even thought about that when he’d run off?

He had to admit he had not.

“I understand,” Frederick continued. “I know you don’t want to do this, but it’s your duty. It’s not something you can run away from.”

Not like you did before, Frederick didn’t have to say.

He couldn’t run away. Not this time. If only the thought of facing Society didn’t make him want to run faster than he ever had before.

“Damn it,” Griffith muttered, glancing back toward the door.

The butler emerged, nodding to Griffith as he shut the door behind him.

“Thank you for coming,” the man said in a stiff tone of voice. “His Grace has been concerned he would not find you.” In time, he didn’t need to say.

Griffith wanted to ask so many questions—how long had Fred been ill, what was his diagnosis, how many doctors had he seen already—but he could tell that the butler would not divulge his master’s secrets. And honestly, Griffith wouldn’t have respected him if he did.

Damn it.

He wished Clark were here. He needed to talk it out with someone. He was accustomed to having a full crew to navigate whatever course he’d set.