“No, you are not. You appear before the commission of lunacy, tell the examiners good King George sits on the throne. Identify yourself as Alaric Gerhardt Robert Rothmere, eleventh duke of Rothhaven. Tell them your date of birth, and that you dwell at Rothhaven Hall, and what day of the week it is. They dismiss the petition and there’s an end to it.”

Nathaniel, a brave, determined, tough-minded man, was afraid.

Robert was afraid too. Terrified, in fact. “And if I have a seizure in the midst of the festivities?”

“They suspend the proceedings until you’re recovered, the same as they would if a lady witness swooned in the middle of her testimony.”

A lamb rose from the grass and shook itself from head to tail. Another leapt up a few yards away and pronked and gamboled over to the first.

Such a sweet, happy scene. “A lady is permitted a fit of the vapors, Nathaniel. A duke is held to a different standard. I am honestly not as concerned about a seizure as I am about a staring spell. When Constance and I met with Ivy’s uncle, the discussion was difficult. He is a man who craves respect, and at the height of one of his diatribes, I failed to respond sensibly. I failed to respond at all, in fact, and he took offense.”

“Then he’s a fool.”

“He is the fool in authority over Ivy, and if I am declared a lunatic—and possibly even if I am not—the fool will sail away with her, perhaps never to be seen again.”

The first slanting beams of morning sun crested the hill to the east, the gentle warmth palpable on Robert’s face. Another benediction, like the birdsong, like the pleasure of a private conversation with Nathaniel, like the scent of lush spring grass and the sound of Lady Althea’s fountain, splashing a few yards up the drive.

Life was so beautiful, given half a chance. For years, Robert had not seen the beauty, not tasted it or smelled it, not allowed it to touch his body, much less his heart.

Nathaniel pushed off the wall, and in the bright morning sun, Robert realized his brother was tired. He’d likely been up all night, holding a vigil not for the Duke of Rothhaven or for the Rothmere family patriarch, but for a brother he’d die to protect.

“Have I ever thanked you for all you’ve done for me?” Robert asked, hopping off the wall and dusting the seat of his breeches. “Ever told you how much I appreciate the years you managed the impossible without a word of complaint?”

“No, but feel free to embarrass us both with your effusions now.”

Robert punched Nathaniel’s arm, hard enough to convey affection, not hard enough to bruise. “If I fight this petition, Nathaniel, it won’t be for your sake. You needn’t feel guilty on that score.”