“Nothing worse than I deserved at the time—Ihadjust insulted Asquith’s ward, after all.” Harbury’s rueful smile was lopsided. “And the forcing me to court Cassandra turned out quite well for me. Besides, calling you out would not be myplace.Asquithis Millicent’s legal guardian. I’m only curious. If, admittedly, somewhat protective.”
“I can assure you I wish for Miss Millicent all that is just and good.”
Harbury’s smirk deepened. “How very…admirable.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Neville pressed his fingers to his temple.Just and good? Perhaps he was turning into his own father. “Millie wouldn’t have me even if I offered—as we both know.”
“Likely not.” Harbury inclined his head. “At least not at present.”
Neville frowned. Not at present?
Not ever.
She had just, for the thousandth time, made that abundantly clear.
Even if Neville could, on her behalf, command the stars in the heavens to burst into glitter like a Vauxhall firework, Millicent Wainwright would still be as far beyond his reach as the moon. But if Harbury could not discern something so obvious, Neville didn’t know how to explain.
He had better come to his point. “My visit, as I told the duchess just before you arrived, has to do with Uncle Farnsworth.”
“Farnsworth?” The duke appeared genuinely surprised. “This has to do with my offer to him?”
Neville nodded. “I’ve come at his behest.”
“When the living at St. Margaret’s opened, I immediately thought of him. And I knew Aunt Jane would be pleased to have her brother-in-law remembered. You cannot mean to tell me he wishes to refuse the post?”
“No. My uncle and, indeed, my whole family, are all indebted to you for remembering him. And he is beyond thrilled with the prospect of a larger congregation.”
“And, one assumes, a more lucrative living.”
“Any man would be,” Neville agreed. “But he feels, before he can accept…” No, that put the onus of this mess on his uncle. “Before he accepts, he has insisted I make you aware of certain things I have, until now, kept private.”
Harbury stopped petting the dog. “You begin to alarm me, cousin—you, the most dutiful of all my relations, excepting, perhaps, my sister Sarah. What terrible, secret problem could you be facing?”
“Not me,” Neville replied. “At least not directly. It’s my brother, John. I’m afraid his situation is very bad. Dire, you might even say.”
“John…” Harbury’s voice trailed. He glanced away, frowning. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing young John since my wedding last summer.”
“Few have,” Neville replied. “I’ve kept him hidden away at my uncle’s current vicarage.” Neville chewed his lip. Best to come right out with the truth, he supposed. “No one would think to seek a fugitive at a vicarage, you see.”
Harbury inhaled sharply, startling the dog in his lap. Marcy barked at Neville, as if Neville were at fault.
Which, in fact, he was.
“Mercy, go to your bed.” Harbury placed the beast on the floor.
Only after the dog had thrown his head and snorted out his indignance did he amble over to the pillow in the corner and lie down.
“Before you continue,” Harbury resumed their conversation, “I think this is the sort of discussion that could use a little lubrication. No?”
Neville nodded.
Harbury unlocked his cabinet and poured a measure of a dark amber liquid into two glasses.
Neville gratefully sipped from the one he’d accepted, savoring the soothing burn. Not brandy, as Neville expected, but something even stronger. French, perhaps?
He continued, “After your wedding, John returned with me to London. But when Asquith invited me to come with him to visit Adrian and Eliza at Ravenswood, I accepted.”
“Yes, I remember,” Harbury agreed. “You and Asquith, but not John, were there when Adrian brought me to collect Cassie.”