Griffith glanced over at the butler, who was regarding his master with an expression of concern.

The man’s look made it seem as though this was not a usual occurrence, and Griffith felt his blood run cold at the thought of losing Frederick so soon after finding him again. Or, to be more accurate, Frederick finding him again.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Frederick spoke in a quiet voice.

Griffith didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “I don’t want you to die.”

Frederick snorted. “Nor do I, and yet here I am.”

“Not just because I have no desire to take over. Although that is part of it,” Griffith said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. And then he spoke in an earnest tone of voice. “I didn’t realize until I was back here how important you are to me. All this time, I assumed you and the rest of the family would be here, as though you were preserved entirely as you were when I left. Not that I care about any of the other members of the family, but I do care about you.”

“Thank you,” Frederick said gruffly.

“Which is why I want to learn everything I can from you.”

“I look that bad, hmm?” Frederick asked.

Griffith froze in horror. “No, it’s not that.” He grimaced, then looked at Frederick who was laughing.

“You bastard,” Griffith said. “I just want to do what is best.”

Frederick pointed at Griffith. “And that is why you were such a good captain. And why you’ll be a good duke.”

Griffith wished it didn’t sting that his being a captain was in the past tense.

“And I saw that other doctor,” Frederick continued. “He seems to think it’s not as bad as the previous doctors. I don’t know if it’s because he wishes to keep me as a patient, or what, but I am seeing him again.”

Griffith felt his breath catch at the thought—if there was a chance Frederick would be alive in six months, and six months after that—well, he’d get to have his cousin and his friend around for a lot longer than he’d expected. And, perhaps, Griffith could resume his captaincy after all.

Though he wouldn’t tell Frederick that, or his cousin might just get more ill, just to keep him on dry land.

“Good afternoon. Is Lady Della at home?” For once the lady herself had not answered the door.

The girl nodded. “She is, I’ll get her. If you would come inside?” She spoke in a cultured voice, although her clothing was plain. Her belly was round enough to make him wonder if she was in an interesting condition.

Not your business, he could hear Della snapping in his head.

“Thank you.” Griffith stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.