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Tobias sighed and shifted in his chair. He shared a glance with Simon and nodded.

‘His Grace is convinced that the news of his passing is accurate.’

‘But…’

‘Lotte.’ It was one word, ground out with no explanation, but Freddie had grown used to the nuance of his brother’s speech and he knew what Tobias meant. Sebastian couldn’t be alive because he would never have left his daughter to the care of his four brothers, unless there was no other option.

‘What does this role entail?’ he croaked. If it meant he’d have to read a lot of reports, then Freddie was not the man for the job.

Simon droned on, outlining the main duties.

There were a couple of smaller estates belonging to the Glanmore title.

The income from these fell to the duke’s heir, but the downside was that they needed to be maintained.

Doing so would almost certainly require reading and writing correspondence.

Freddie was torn between confessing that he couldn’t do it or waiting and failing his brother at a later date.

His limbs were leaden, as if a heavy blanket were being slowly laid over him until he couldn’t lift his arms. He glanced down and was amazed to see that he was still in his relaxed position, one foot balanced on his knee.

He may look like a man without a care but inside he was drowning.

He couldn’t possibly take over these duties.

Even if he got a man of business, which would eat into his funds, he’d have to explain to that person that he couldn’t read or write.

Telling Emily hadn’t been as bad as he had feared, but he wasn’t about to confess it all to a stranger.

The temperature in the duke’s study began to rise; Freddie tugged at his cravat, wishing he wasn’t wearing one. ‘I do not think…’

Simon held up his hand before Freddie could go any further. ‘We are aware that you do not care for such responsibilities, but we still need you to take them on. It is time.’

Freddie gripped the arm rest, the wood biting into his hand. He’d love to drag Simon out of the room and have this conversation with Tobias instead. Simon wasn’t a member of the family and had no right to throw himself into the situation with the word ‘we’.

‘Speaking of time, should I not be given some to think about this?’

Simon sighed. ‘Freddie, you have had enough time gadding about town enjoying yourself. It is time to grow up.’

The heat of the room intensified. Freddie gripped the arms of his chair to stop himself from doing something foolish, like leaping up and ripping Simon’s patronising head from his shoulders.

Tobias coughed.

Simon glanced at him quickly and nodded again. ‘Obviously, in the event of the duke having a male child, the estate and titles will revert to His Grace’s heir and you will be relieved of the burden of having to receive the income as well as the respect given to the title of earl. ’

Simon may as well have punched him in the stomach. ‘Heir?’ was all the response he managed.

Simon’s lips thinned as if he was tired of dealing with such an imbecile.

‘Your brother hopes to marry soon.’ The world stopped.

He did? Of course he did. Everyone knew he was interested in Emily; it was only Freddie who, with his inconvenient infatuation with her, was blinkered on this topic.

His brother hadn’t been around any other women recently; marriage to Emily was the only logical step.

‘Should that union be blessed with a son, he will, of course, become your brother’s heir. ’

‘Marry soon? Heir?’ These words were the only ones this news allowed him to say.

‘Obviously, there is currently no engagement at present, which is why it is time for you to take on the role. I will organise all the relevant documents to be brought to you for your perusal. You will no doubt want to organise visits to the properties…’

‘Man of business.’

Freddie and Simon turned to look at Tobias, who was frowning fiercely at his right-hand man.

‘Ah, yes,’ continued Simon, seemingly unperturbed by Tobias’ annoyance.

‘Your brother suggests you hire a man of business in order to help you with the more onerous parts of managing these properties. I will arrange for interviews to be set up. Do send me your schedule so I can organise a time at your convenience.’

Simon knew damn well that Freddie had nothing on his so-called schedule. Nothing of import anyway.

‘Very well,’ he said, standing because he could no longer bear to be in this room with the silent, black presence of his brother and his self-satisfied assistant.

‘I shall make sure details of my engagements are sent to you posthaste. Now if that is all, I must attend to my other pressing matters. ’

These pressing matters consisted of building a playhouse for a little girl and learning how to be completely unbothered about his brother marrying Emily Hawkins, so much so, that he no longer wanted to ram his fist into a tree at the thought of them producing an heir together.

The latter was undoubtedly going to be a lot harder to do than the former, probably impossible, but he had to try.

He had to get to a point in his life where the idea of the two of them together did not cause him physical pain.