“We shall join you. A walk about the grounds does increase the appetite for breakfast.” She smiled dazzlingly at him. She looked similar to her daughter, Robert always thought, except that her face was more oval in shape, her nose slightly more upturned. Robert pushed back his chair, wishing that he could escape. But he was too hungry. He helped himself to a croissant, trying to eat it as quickly as possible while Mama conversed with Lady Bardwell and Marina. Lord Bardwell remained mostly silent, nodding and smiling throughout the discussion.
“I must excuse myself,” Robert said after hastily consuming a slice of toast as well. His mother raised a brow.
“Mustyou hurry off, son?” she asked him disapprovingly, raising her eyebrows.
Robert nodded. “I am afraid I must, Mama. My duties call me. Henry is surely awake by now.”
His mother made a face, her lips compressing tightly, and he knew that she was thinking that Henry had a nursemaid. But she was too polite to contradict him, and Robert returned to his chambers to find Henry jumping on the chaise-longue and being scolded by his nursemaid.
Henry was awake, and he had time to play a quick round of cribbage—with the rules simplified for a seven-year-old—before the little boy had to eat breakfast. Afterwards, they played in thegarden. At half an hour past eleven, he excused himself from accompanying Mama to luncheon.
“Robert! Why! That is most irregular! How will I explain to the guests? To Lady Bardwell?”
Robert held his breath for a moment. “Mother, I am sorry. But our host has invited me to take luncheon at the club. Besides, many of the guests will be in Bath this afternoon. I am surprised that Lord and Lady Bardwell are not likewise engaged in the town?”
“Well!” his mother sniffed. “It’s most uncharitable of you, son. With whom should I talk at luncheon?”
“With Charles and Philipa? Or Victoria and James?” Robert asked.
His mother looked annoyed but inclined her head.
“Very well. But I am displeased, Robert. It is most irregular behaviour from you.”
Robert let out a sigh. “I have not seen Edward for a long time, Mama. It is natural that he and I wish to speak a while alone.”
“Very well,” his mother said, though he could hear the disapproval in her voice. She had a head much harder than his own, but she was capable of being reasonable too.
“Thank you, Mother,” Robert replied politely, and hurried down the stairs before she could say anything that would upset his mood.
Ten minutes later, he was walking down the street in Bath. He had borrowed Edward’s fine roan thoroughbred, who he led into the stable at the local inn, for an hour or two of care while he was in town. He left him chewing comfortably through a bucket of bran and the groom had strict instructions to spare no expense in caring for him. Robert walked down the street, confident that no harm would come to the stallion and ready to enjoy his hours in town.
The club was not difficult to find—Edward had given him instructions—and soon he found himself seated in a pleasant room with leather-upholstered chairs and dark wooden furniture. Edward strolled in a few minutes later.
“Robert! Grand. Have you ordered luncheon?” Edward asked, removing his top-hat and hanging it up by the door.
“I think I will eat sandwiches,” Robert commented. His appetite was not as it should be—it was his distracted thoughts that had unsettled it.
Edward shrugged. “A fine notion,” he commented. He turned to the proprietor to organize his own lunch, and pushed back his chair a little, relaxing back into it. “How is your son faring?” he asked fondly.
“Well. He almost beat me at cribbage this morning. He’s too clever for his age.”
Edward chuckled. “He gets that from his parents,” he said. Then winced. “Sorry, Robert,” he added. “I didn’t mean to mention...her.”
Robert shook his head. “No. No need to apologise. It is true. Elizabeth was a highly intelligent woman.” He sniffed, grief tightening its grip on his heart. Sometimes it felt good to talk about her—he could spend hours talking to Charles or Victoria of her, recalling her so that, for a moment, he felt close to her. But of late it felt strange to think of her. Each time she came into his mind, guilt stabbed into him. He had thought too much about Miss Brooke and somehow, he felt sure Elizabeth would know.
“And yourself? Does the air here suit you well?” Edward asked politely.
Robert chuckled hollowly. “It suits me as well as the air in London.”
Edward was watching him; a searching quality in his friend’s gaze.
“I am glad you came to join us,” Edward said after a moment. “It is good to be in good company.”
Robert let out a breath. “Not sure what good company I am at the moment, old chap,” he said sorrowfully. “I brood too much. Mama always says so.”
“You’re grieving. Not brooding. There is a difference,” Edward said lightly.
Robert sighed. “True,” he said shakily. His throat felt tight with emotion. Edward, it seemed, was one of the few people who understood how he felt. “But ithasbeen five years. And mother is right. Henry needs me to think about the future.”
