“It is,” Miss Brooke agreed. “And it means...” she began, but then they rounded the next corner, and she stopped dead, falling immediately silent. Before them, rising from the stone paving, built in ancient, dark stone, was a tall building. The walls were damp and crumbling here and there, but the entire building was still intact. Stone steps led up to the entrance. A roof with a pediment crowned the structure. Fissures did manifest, yet in every other regard, it remained as splendid as ever, albeit undeniably imbued with an air of venerable antiquity and grandeur. The Baths!
Robert whistled.
“They’re magnificent,” he breathed.
Miss Brooke was quiet, simply gazing up at the edifice. Robert wondered what she was thinking.
“They are impressive, eh?” he asked carefully after a few minutes.
“They are breathtaking,” she whispered. “I cannot even find words.” Robert glanced at her, seeing that her eyes were damp. He drew her aside so that the other guests could pass, not wanting them to disturb her.
“They are very impressive,” he murmured softly.
“They are so old,” Miss Brooke breathed. “And yet, they are still here. Our lives are so short, and yet this magnificent building endures, as intact as if it had been built yesterday. Human lives are so short compared to this.”
Robert swallowed hard. “Indeed,” he murmured softly. “Indeed, they are.” His heart twisted. She was right. Man exists for but a fleeting moment when compared to the countless—nay, thousands—of years that stone, or even trees, may endure. Seeing the ancient stonework before them brought the thought forcibly to his mind. Elizabeth had been six-and-twenty. So young. Impossibly young.
“I am sorry,” she murmured, reaching into her reticule as if she looked for a handkerchief. “I did not mean to bring such a dark aspect to the place.”
“Not at all,” Robert said gently. “What you say is true.” He reached into his coat pocket, drawing out a handkerchief and handing it to her at the same time as she brought her own out of her reticule with a flourish. He chuckled. “Should you need one, you may always borrow mine.”
“Thank you,” Miss Brooke replied. “I would offer likewise, but I fear this one is already used.” She wiped her eyes and grinned.
He let out a guffaw. “I suppose it is,” he said with a smile. “But nonetheless, I thank you. One should always be among friends from whom one can borrow a handkerchief.”
Miss Brooke smiled. “Thank you,” she murmured.
His eyes held hers and he realized, suddenly, that he had acknowledged her as a friend, and that she had accepted. He let out a slow breath. She was standing beside him, close enough that he could feel the whisper of her soft muslin gown even through the thicker stuff of his trouser leg.
The other guests had all gone indoors to view the baths, and Robert realized distantly that they were alone on the pavement,staring up at the facade of the building. He turned to Miss Brooke, inclining his head.
“May I escort you indoors, miss?” he asked her gently.
“Please do,” she said softly.
Her gaze held his and Robert made himself breathe. Her eyes were gentle, pools of warmth in which he could drown. He could not tear his gaze away and he took another breath, knowing that he had to get them indoors before his mother found them.
“Allow me to escort you,” he said, crooking his arm at the elbow.
She nodded and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and they walked slowly up the pavement towards the building. Robert glanced at her as they stepped in through the doorway. She was gazing at the building in wonder and his heart filled with feelings he could not name, but which had deserted him for years. He swallowed hard and looked away. His mother was in there somewhere, but at that moment he barely had a thought to spare for her reaction and what might become of him later. All he cared about was the smile on the beautiful face beside him. He was, for the moment, delighted.
Chapter 14
Robert blinked at his reflection in the looking glass. The lamps flickered, casting enough light for him to see himself despite the darkness beyond the windows. He tied his cravat, tilting his head thoughtfully. He had chosen a frothier, fancier knot than usual and he wondered if the effect was right. As he stepped back from the looking glass, he frowned as a realization hit him. It had been years since he had paid any heed to his clothes.
“Dash it,” he said aloud, a mix of surprise, amusement and shock filling him. He knew perfectly well what the cause of this sudden care was—it was Miss Brooke. He wanted to look good for her. The thought amused and shocked him.
“Elizabeth,” he said aloud, speaking to her in the silence of the bedroom. “I hope that you do not mind.”
Edward had assured him that Elizabeth would be happy for his happiness, but it was hard to let himself believe it; hard to accept that he was allowed to be happy when she was no longer alive.
Well, if Mama has her way, I certainly will not be following it,he told himself with a grim lift to his lips. If he wanted suffering, she had certainly heaped her rage on him the whole of the afternoon. The moment she had time alone with him, she had lectured him about his shocking lack of manners and how he had made a fool of her by inviting Miss Brooke to view the Roman Baths with him. The entire afternoon between returning and dinner had been filled with her anger.
“She is not appropriate as a duchess,” his mother had raged. “She is unknown in society, and she has no connections, no reputation.”
“But not a bad reputation,” Robert had pointed out.
“That is not the matter at issue!” His mother had shouted. Robert had said nothing, deciding that if he just remained silent,she would eventually run out of things to say. As it happened, he had been right.
