“If you weren’t alive, Garrett, there would be no one to take over the earldom. Think of that. The estate would be passed to a distant relative. I have no doubt Ralph would have grown into a fine earl. But I know there could be no better man to take over the responsibility of the Upbridge estates and titles than you, my son. Your father felt the same way. He told me.”

“He told you?”

“Yes. He was proud of you, Garrett. So very, very proud.”

A lump formed in Garrett’s throat. He squeezed his mother’s hand. “Thank you for that, Mother.”

“I love you, Garrett. I know you’ll do the right thing. You always do.”

*   *   *

No drinking today. Garrett waved away the footman who hovered near him. He was back at Brooks’s, but he needed his wits about him. He intended to confront Isabella this afternoon.

Adam and Collin Hunt were playing cards nearby. Since their brother had been named a duke, the Hunt brothers had come up in Society. Garrett was about to go greet them when Claringdon and Cavendish came strolling through the door.

“Upton,” Claringdon said. “Fancy seeing you here again. We were just meeting my brothers.”

“And I’m happy for any excuse to drink in the middle of the day,” Cavendish added.

“Good to see you both,” Garrett replied.

“Come join us,” Claringdon insisted.

Garrett made his way over to the card table where the other men were settling. He greeted the Hunt brothers, who resumed their play, while Claringdon, Cavendish, and Garrett sat together in a small group of large leather chairs.

“You look as if you have something on your mind, Upton,” Rafe said. “Not a happy bridegroom?”

Garrett scrubbed his hand across his face. “That is an understatement.”

Claringdon’s eyebrows shot up. “Trouble already?”

“It was always trouble,” Garrett replied.

Claringdon waved down a footman and ordered three brandies.

“The last thing I need is a drink. I have important decisions to make,” Garrett said.

“On the contrary, sounds as if the first thing you need is a drink,” Rafe replied, with a wicked grin.

“Care to tell us the trouble?” Claringdon asked.

“Suffice it to say I owe someone an enormous favor and the price may be entirely too great to pay,” Garrett replied.

Claringdon steepled his fingers. “You’re talking about Harold Langford.”

Garrett eyed the duke carefully. “You know?”

Claringdon nodded. “I know what happened in Spain. Langford took a bullet for you. But it was no more than what any of us would have done for each other, you must know that.”

Garrett briefly closed his eyes. “You cannot know the guilt I feel.”

“You’re right. I cannot. I do know that you’re directing your guilt into something useful by helping Swifdon champion the soldiers’ bill. You cannot pay with the rest of your life for something that was neither your fault, nor your choice.”