I need time to think,he thought a little despairingly as he tightened his cravat. Miss Brooke had dominated his musing since he saw her at the dinner party—all pale blue eyes and thick chestnut hair and that endearing smile. Talking with her had been refreshing, uplifting him in ways nothing else had. Even as Miss Brooke’s sweet oval face drifted into his thoughts again, Elizabeth likewise filled his mind. Guilt swamped him, making his heart ache. Elizabeth was the only woman who had ever made him feel that way. It felt terrible—disloyal, confusing, wrong—to think of another as he had of her.
“Come on,” he told himself aloud and impatiently. “Get yourself down to breakfast. You need food and tea.”
He walked down the hallway, listening for the sound of conversation. As it happened, there was no loud chatter drifting out of the breakfast-room. When he reached it, it was empty, all except for Edward, who was sitting at the table calmly buttering some toast. Edward looked up as Robert entered.
“Ah! Robert! Good morning, old chap. I trust you slept well?” Edward asked, standing to shake Robert’s hand as he came over to sit down. Robert shrugged.
“Well, enough,” he answered. “Thank you,” he added, not wanting to be impolite. “The bedchamber is more than adequate.” The chambers assigned to himself, his motherand Henry were more than fitting for their needs—it was sumptuously decorated, and he felt as comfortable there as he did at home—for all that it felt odd to be in a space empty of memories.
“Grand. Grand. I am pleased to hear it. Tea?” Edward asked, lifting a white-and-floral porcelain teapot. “We’re not usually early risers here at Averhill House,” he added with a grin. “And it seems most of the guests are not, either.”
Robert inclined his head, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips. “Yes, please. It would seem that we are the only early risers, as you say. My sister and brother will certainly sleep for another half an hour at least,” he added with some amusement. Victoria had always been a late riser, and somehow, she was also impervious to any criticism their mother leveled at that fact. When Papa had lived, he had accommodated everyone’s foibles, and that had led to himself, Charles and Victoria being sufficiently confident to withstand their mother’s critical tongue.
Edward poured Robert some tea and Robert thanked him absently, lifting the cup and sipping without even tasting it. Thoughts of the previous evening spiraled through his mind. Miss Brooke, smiling at him, disregarded his mother’s discourteous dismissal, and caught his gaze across the table.
He had yearned to converse with her during the repast, but his mother had, through some artifice, ensured that no one aside from herself was able to utter more than a syllable. He harbored a suspicion that she was doing it purposefully, trying to prevent him from conversing with Miss Brooke, but that seemed preposterous. She could not possibly know how much the young woman dominated his thoughts.
Robert ran a hand through his hair, feeling uncomfortable. It was not possible that his feelings were so evident on his face, that even his mother had noticed, surely? He looked around theroom, trying to distract himself, and caught Edward’s gaze on him, his brown eyes considering and not unkind.
“Do you wish to go riding, perhaps?” Edward asked gently.
Robert shrugged, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he realized that Edward must have seen that he was troubled. “No idea, old chap. Henry is not awake yet, and I cannot leave him in the care of his nurse all day.” His fingers tightened on the cuff of his shirtsleeve, plucking it worriedly. He had sworn to himself that he would not simply hand Henry over to the staff for his care, but that he would play a role in the child’s upbringing, as much as his duties allowed. But being part of the house party was making that hard. Already he had seen less of him in the past two days than he would have liked.
“You will have plenty of time with the little fellow,” Edward assured him. “There are no entertainments planned for today—many of the guests wish to go and visit Bath and see the sights. In fact, I have a better notion. I belong to a gentleman’s club here—nothing earnest, just a small, friendly sort of club where one might read the newspaper and have a drink in the evening. Mayhap you and I could take luncheon there? It strikes me that we have not seen each other for a long time.”
Robert drew in a breath. That sounded like exactly what he wanted. Friendly company, nobody expecting anything of him, a chance to relax and discuss the matters close to his heart.
“I would like that,” he said simply.
Edward smiled. “Good,” he agreed warmly.
A noise in the corridor made them both look up. Robert tensed to see his mother drifting in, a smile on her haughty, squarish face. Beside her walked Lady Bardwell, and a little behind them walked Lord Bardwell and his daughter, Marina.
“Robert! Good morning! Why! Look who was taking a turnabout the grounds when I sought out the fresh air thismorning.” Mother greeted him. At the same time, her right-hand gestured Marina forwards.
Robert had stood up politely as they entered—as had Edward—and he bowed low.
“Good morning, Lady Marina,” he greeted her politely. Lady Marina’s heart-shaped face lit up, her catlike blue eyes slanting in the corners as she smiled. She was a magnificent woman—striking, lovely—but he had never warmed to her, even when she was a girl. There was something cold about her, just as there was about Lord and Lady Bardwell. She executed a perfect curtsey, dipping low as befitted greeting a duke.
“Good morning, Your Grace. May I say how delightful it is to see you?” Her voice was neither high nor low-pitched, and had a pleasant resonance, her enunciation perfect.
Robert smiled—or his lips moved up at the corners of their own accord, simply because it was polite and because the three ladies—Mama, Lady Bardwell and Lady Marina—were smiling at him.
“Thank you, my lady. It is an honour to renew my acquaintance.” He inclined his head politely. “And it is an honour to renew my acquaintance with you, my lady, and with you, my lord,” he added, bowing to her mother and then to her father. Lady Marina beamed.
“I trust you are enjoying the pleasant weather in Bath?” she asked him. Robert inclined his head.
“Yes, it is pleasant here,” he agreed. “It seems milder than in London.” The words were halting—it had been many years since he had to make polite conversation with anyone.
“Quite so! Yes! A fine breeze. It was delightful to walk in the garden this morning, so cool and refreshing to have the breeze ruffle one’s hair.” She patted her lovely reddish-blonde curls.
Robert inclined his head. “Yes. I imagine it was very fine.” Inside he was cursing at himself. The young lady was beautiful—poised, graceful and lovely—and his mother was practically forcing him into the conversation. Any other man would have been flattered by the attention. But he could not be.
It is reasonable,he reminded himself silently.I am mourning for Elizabeth.
“Have you broken your fast?” Lady Bardwell asked him. Robert shook his head.
“No, my lady. I am still at breakfast.” He gestured to the table. His stomach grumbled at the sight, and scent, of the sweet pastries and croissants there.
