AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He turned his gaze on her, and smiled. “He’s in Italy,” he said. “He always loved languages at school. He married, but it was, by all accounts, a most unsuitable match.”
“By all accounts?” Sophia said. “You didn’t attend the wedding?”
He shook his head. “I was out of the country at the time—with the militia—when Rupert eloped. Rupe was always something of a rake and never seemed to have any inclination to settle down, or beget himself an heir. Father insisted on Rupert marrying in order to inherit the unentailed estate, which included everything but the title. He lined up a number of young ladies from whom Robert was expected to make his choice, but to spite him, Rupert reportedly went in search of the ugliest woman in London, and whisked her off to Scotland before Father had time to change his breeches.”
“The ugliest woman in London?” Sophia repeated. “Hardly the greatest accolade.”
“I know,” Adrian said. “I’d at least have chosen a woman I could stand to look at if I were to be forced into spending the rest of my life with her.”
“I meant your brother,” Sophia said, sharply. “It’s hardly becoming of a gentleman to refer to any woman as ugly, or to judge her merely by her looks.”
“And I suspect she would agree with you,” he said, “wherever, and whoever she is. Father turned her out shortly after Rupert realized his mistake and fled the country. He refused to speak of her since then—and, to my knowledge, didn’t utter her name even once, before he died.”
“Where is she now?” Sophia asked.
“I presume she returned to her family,” he said. “If I’m being honest, she’s better off with them than with Rupert. My brother has always had too—varied—a taste in women. One would never be enough for him and it would be a hard life for any wife of his to turn a blind eye to his antics with mistresses and harlots.”
Sophia held up her hand. “Please, do not mention such matters in front of my son.”
“Of course,” he said. “Forgive me.” He turned to Henry. “Now, young man. You must tell me what you think of currant buns.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “I love currant buns! They’re my favorite. How did you know?”
FitzRoy winked at him. “When I was your age I was partial to a currant bun,” he said. “Cook always used to cover them with a sticky honey glaze. What do you say to that?”
“Ooh, delicious!” Henry clapped his hands.
“Then you must promise to sit very still for the rest of the journey, then you shall have one as soon as we arrive.”
“Very well.” Henry sat up, his back ramrod straight. A bubble of mirth burst inside Sophia and she let out a laugh at the serious expression on her son’s face.
FitzRoy smiled, his eyes twinkling. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”
“Must I wait very long?” Henry asked.
“Not long at all,” FitzRoy said. “We’re here.”
The carriage drew to a halt. He winked at Sophia again, lifted Henry off his lap, and placed the boy on his feet.
The carriage door opened and Henry leaped out, the pent-up energy of an exuberant little boy too much for him to temper any longer. FitzRoy followed suit, then he turned and offered Sophia his hand.
She took it, and he squeezed her fingers, sending a ripple of warmth through her, then released her hand and led the way to the front doors.
At close quarter, the roses were even more beautiful. Two climbing plants surrounded the main doors, giving the building the air of a country cottage. Many of the flowers were in full bloom, soft petals curled together to form a perfect rose. But a number of buds had formed, soft green teardrop shapes with a faint edge of yellow promising another bright bloom to adorn the bush.
“You must be the envy of every gardener in the country,” Sophia said, reaching out to touch a bloom. The petals were soft, silky to the touch, and she caressed the edge of one with her fingertips.
The doors opened to reveal a uniformed man and woman.
“Welcome home, sir,” the man said, bowing.
“Thank you, Davis,” FitzRoy said. The woman dipped into a curtsey, then she spotted Henry and her face broke into a wide smile.
“And this young man must be your guest!” she said.
“That he is, Mrs. Davis,” he replied. “This is Mrs. Black, and her son Henry.”
“I’m very pleased to welcome you to Roseborough House, ma’am,” she said, “and young Master Henry. We’ve been very much looking forward to your visit. The colonel so rarely invites guests.”
