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‘I know what my father did. I choose to remember him for other things. The way he was before it happened.’ Robert focused on the fire. His father might have felt compelled to commit suicide after his stepmother deserted him, but he’d learnt to trust facts rather than his instincts where women were concerned. He’d learnt that long ago. All relationships were governed by logic and scientific method. It was the only way.
‘And Daphne Smith—do you know what she was?’
‘I understand Lady Alderney is quite happy living abroad in Italy. I go down on my knees nightly, thanking God that I was saved from a fate worse than death. And logic should rule the heart rather than the other way around.’
Robert pulled at his cuffs. He had been far too young then and far too ready to believe the lies that sprang from beautiful titled lips. Daphne had seemed to be an angel set on this earth and he had worshipped the ground her dainty foot trod as only a lovesick youth could do. He’d naïvely believed her protestations that she could care for him, if only her parents would allow her to. Her refusal of his proposal and her subsequent mockery after she had secured Viscount Alderney’s hand had made him even more determined to succeed and to follow his father’s injunction that a rational approach was the only way. And succeed he had, until one day he realised that success had a sweetness all of its own and the refusal was no longer the spur it once was. Thereafter he’d been very careful to take his pleasure only from sophisticated women who expected little in return—always ending the affair before his emotions were fully engaged rather than risk the hurt.
‘Do you think that Lord Cawburn sent Lady Thorndike as a spy? Does she know what he tried to do to my darling girl? The wickedness he had planned? I have heard stories, terrible stories. Why he remains accepted in polite society, I have no idea!’ For the second time in as many days, Dorothy appeared to be on the brink of hysterics as she fumbled for her handkerchief.
Robert put a calming hand on Dorothy’s ample shoulder. There was no need to inform her of his wager with Henri and their quarrel. Dorothy might read far too much into it. ‘Lady Thorndike’s reason for being in the neighbourhood will be entirely innocent. She is well-known for her generosity and she always calls on visitors. She has started some society or other.’
‘I do hope you are right. I worry about my little girl and that…that monster. The women he has ruined. And rumours of his gaming.’
‘Trust me to handle it,’ Robert said grimly. ‘It is why you came to me in the first place. Nothing will happen to Sophie under my roof. She is safe here with trusted servants to watch over her. And when we know she is sensible, then she can go out into society again.’
‘You are so good to us, Robert.’ Dorothy dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘My nerves…the very thought of having to meet that man again is enough to make me take to my bed.’
‘I will explain it to Lady Thorndike. She won’t want to embarrass you or your stepdaughter. She may be many things, but she’s not cruel and she is a strong upholder of society’s virtues.’
Dorothy Ravel twisted the handkerchief about her fingers. ‘I find that society goes out the window when family are concerned. And Sophie is at such an impressionable age…’
‘I give you my word, Dorothy. Cawburn will only ruin Sophie over my dead body. Trust me on this.’ Henri lay on the dark green damask couch and gazed up at the ornate ceiling. Robert Montemorcy’s house with its highly polished wooden floors, plush Persian carpets and various clocks and other mechanical items whirling smelt of wax polish and other chemicals. It had puzzled her at first and then she remembered Robert kept a small chemical laboratory for experiments. He’d even created a new type of white paint for Melanie Crozier when she complained of the old one streaking and ruining her watercolours.
A variety of clocks started to strike the hour, reminding her that time was fleeting. Henri shivered and pulled the soft wool blanket up around her chin, wrapping herself in a cocoon against the world. For once Robert was correct. She would never have made it home. But she’d leave as soon as her aunt’s carriage arrived. It puzzled her why Miss Ravel and her stepmother hadn’t greeted her and had left the nursing to a junior maid. But then not everyone was comfortable around invalids.
Henri moved her ankle and, despite the laudanum the doctor had forced her to drink earlier, it throbbed with a dull ache. Henri wrinkled her nose. One more fallacy. She had always thought laudanum took away all physical aches and pains. Edmund in his gentle reproachful way had always sworn it did when she enquired.
