Page 37 of Duke, Actually
“Why was there the one photo from the boat to begin with? Did the husband take it?”
“I have no idea. There was a staff member captaining the boat, but the playwright assured me he would be discreet.”
“Well, that was a mistake.”
“It certainly was.” Hence the development of his rules of engagement. “The larger point of my tale of woe is that the ‘Depraved Duke’ sobriquet is incorrect. The... proceedings themselves were rather mundane, all told. The more accurate phrase would be ‘Idiotic Duke.’ Or ‘Dumb Duke,’ if we want to preserve the alliterative qualities of the moniker.”
“But you’re not a duke.”
“Not yet, thank god.”
“What’s the last item on the list?”
“Hmm?”
“You said you had three other rules in addition to always wanting to hook up on your turf. You said no married women. And no repeat performances so as not to encourage anyone to get any ideas about marriage. But there’s one more, I think?”
“Ah. Yes. No lying.”
“Why would anyone be lying?”
“Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me it means not telling anyone what they want to hear merely because it might be convenient.”
“Huh.”
“What does that mean? Are you against honesty?”
“No! I admire it. You’re very honest. Relentlessly honest, I might even say.”
He didn’t know what to say to that.
“So no false declarations of love is what you’re saying.”
“That is what I’m saying.”
“How come you can’t sleep?” she asked suddenly. “Too much to drink whilst picking up beautiful artists?”
He had not said the artist was beautiful, but he didn’t correct her. “No. I know this is probably difficult to believe given my enthusiasm for negronis the other night, but I don’t drink much.”
He wanted her to ask him why.
“Why not?”
“My father is a drunk of the worst sort.”
Saying that felt like a lot. He’dwantedto say it, but once it was out, he found he didn’t want to elaborate beyond the topic-sentence version of the mess that was life with his parents. Buthe was finding this exercise in truth-telling strangely exhilarating, so he told her another one—a different one. “I couldn’t sleep because I was ruminating about my job situation.”
“This may be a stupid question, but if being a duke is a job, why isn’t being a baron? In historical novels, aristocrats are always, like, overseeing the manor or visiting sick tenants or something.”
“My title is a courtesy title, meaning it’s a meaningless title given to the sons of aristocrats.”
“You people are so weird.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“So being Baron of Aquilla can’t be made into a job?”
“The title is actually Baron of Laudon. The duchy is Aquilla; the barony is Laudon.” He thought about her question. “I don’t think it can be made into a job. Unlike with the duchy, there are no lands or holdings associated with it.”