The ladies retired to the Lavender Saloon, and left them alone with their port. He sipped at it, as he listened to his father and Edward talk about the life of a magistrate. He could see where his father was leading the conversation, and winced when he finally broached the subject. “How do you view poaching, sir?” the Duke asked. Damnation. Why couldn’t his father be reserved like Edward? Why did he have to be like a bloody battering ram? Why did he have to be so damn much like him? It wasn’t fair. “As long as no grievous harm has been done, I do not view it too seriously. I also like to know if it was done out of need or greed, Your Grace.” “Tell him, Freddie,” the Duke said. Freddie sighed. “The man who I always thought was my father should be standing trial before you shortly, sir.”
