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“No. We didn’t quarrel. Richard gave me some momentous news.”
“Which you will not share with me?”
“It’s not my news to share.”
Would their mother have any insight into what might be done, if anything? Samuel doubted it. She’d always left the politics to Father.
“If it’s upset you, perhaps it would be best if—”
“Ho, hold up,” Richard’s voice boomed without.
Their carriage rocked to a halt. The door swung wide, and Richard jumped in. Samuel slid over as his brother sat down beside him. Richard reached out and pulled the door closed.
“Richard,” their mother exclaimed, smiling. “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you were interested in attending Lady Krestlin’s garden party.”
Richard banged on the ceiling to return them to motion.
“I certainly am interested, Mother. Everyone knows Lady K throws the biggest must-attend ball at the start of the season and the most fabulous must-attend garden party at the end, and that in between the two, she feeds off gossip, like one of those molluscs that affixes to the outside of a hull.”
Their mother’s gaze narrowed, and she looked back and forth between them. Even though he stood slightly taller than his older brother, Samuel knew that the combination of his sober black suit and reserved demeanour rendered him nearly invisible when his vibrantly clad, boisterous sibling graced them with his presence. Certain, therefore, that his conversation was not needed and would likely be ignored, Samuel turned his attention back to the view.
“But you do not normally enjoy gatherings rife with eligible young ladies,” Mother pointed out.
“Who says?” Richard cried.
“You do, with great frequency.”
“I wanted to take some sun.”
“Hm.”
Silence descended as they rumbled along, halting in occasional deference to passing traffic. Samuel wondered if he might remove the small volume which he carried in his coat pocket, and read without receiving a reprimand. He could hardly be accused of ignoring conversation when there wasn’t any.
“How is Miss Babette today, Richard?”
“Who?”
“Babette, dear.”
Silence caused Samuel to glance at his brother. Seeing confusion on Richard’s face, Samuel prompted, “The young woman you brought to have tea with our mother only yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, Babette. Lively girl. Awful French for having been born there.” Richard shrugged. “I’m afraid I grew bored with her. I placed her in the hands of a much more enthusiastic gentleman.”
“So we will not find her in Lady Krestlin’s company?”
Richard barked laughter, the sound ricocheting inside the confined space of the carriage.
“Gads no, Mother. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“I see,” Mother snapped with cold disapproval.
“Now, Mother, don’t be like that.”
Richard’s placating words and condescending tone settled the two into one of their more standard arguments concerning his behaviour. Samuel turned back to the light streaming in the carriage window and pulled out his book. They arrived at Lady Krestlin’s London home after the better part of an hour, their threesome having barely survived Richard’s threat to jump from the carriage as they passed through the theatre district. They disembarked and entered the garden in silence, speaking only to thank their hostess, Mother on Samuel’s arm and Richard walking on his other side like a sullen storm cloud.
“The Duchess of Aspen should be here,” Richard said in a low voice as they strode onto a carefully manicured lawn. “You may be able to accomplish conversation without an introduction. I’ve often heard it said that people cannot recall if they’ve been introduced to you before or not.”
Releasing Samuel’s arm, their mother stepped around him to halt Richard, her lavender skirt swishing across the deep green lawn.
