Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (30 page)
“For a young lad who is adventurous in some ways, you have an ordinary palate—but very well.” His host moved to select a glass from a mismatched collection on a nearby bamboo table, some of them probably irreplaceable pieces from only God knew where. Sir John, his father’s lifelong friend, loved to roam the earth and returned from each adventure with a new collection of peculiar treasures, the vile beverage among them.
Robert accepted the glass and sat down. He wasn’t sure what had brought him to seek out Sir John.
No, not true. He needed to talk to someone. Someone older and definitely wiser. Colton was the head of the family now, and Robert loved and respected his brother in every way, but the three-year age difference hardly made him a father figure, duke or not. For as long as Robert could remember, John Traverston had been a part of his life, like an eccentric uncle. Now he represented what Robert had lost that fateful night of his father’s death. John had thankfully been in England at the time, and had lent his gentle support to a shocked widow and her young, bewildered sons.
If ever Robert needed sound, unbiased advice, this was the time.
“How was Colton’s birthday?” John picked up a bottle of opaque green glass and poured a brown substance into his glass. “I was sorry not to make it, but quite frankly, house parties are for the young. It is the privilege of getting older that one can refuse to attend certain events. Can you picture me doing charades after dinner?”
It was a perfect segue, but still Robert hesitated. He wasn’t even sure he’d come to talk about the tempting Rebecca. “It was pleasant enough,” he said in an offhand voice, which, it turned out, was not very effective.
“Oh?” John’s white brows lifted. He drank some of the liquid in his glass with obvious relish and Robert stifled a grimace. He remembered how he’d nearly choked and inelegantly spit it on the rug when he’d been served the nasty stuff.
“Brianna did a wonderful job in her first real foray as hostess. Grandmama helped, and, I believe, enjoyed herself immensely. She pretended to be stern, but I could see the sparkle in her eyes the entire time.”
“Your grandmother has always been a perfect matriarch in every way: regal, and yet warm. I remember when your father and I were boys she had the ability to terrify us with a single look, but if we got into mischief, she was the first to defend us. Even your grandfather deferred to her. They had a good marriage, which is refreshing in a society that all too often places more emphasis on bloodlines and wealth than affection.”
Marriage.
That word seemed to haunt him. Robert nodded and stared at his glass. “Yes, I know.”
“Your parents also were lucky in that regard. It was an arranged match that blossomed, but I don’t need to tell you that.”
Robert shifted in his chair. “I remember. Now Colton and his bride seem to share the same . . .”
He couldn’t think of how to finish the sentence. Not that there wasn’t still some misunderstanding between his older brother and his beautiful wife, but when they were together, there was an unmistakable bond.
Therein lay the problem. Robert wasn’t sure he wanted that sort of a commitment. It entailed a great deal of responsibility.
“The ‘same’?” A gentle prompt.
Silence. Damn all.
“Whenever you care to tell me why you are really here, feel free. I have no plans that can’t be changed.” John sipped his vile drink and simply sat there, a benign look on his weathered face.
Oh well, hell, Robert told himself in mocking reproof, he might as well blurt it all out. “There is someone. A young woman.”
“My dear, Robbie, I am not surprised. With you, there is always a woman.”
“No,” Robert said tightly. “Not like her.”
“That I gathered, so forgive the facetious remark. Go on. What about this young lady?”
“She’s unmarried.”
“I see.” John merely looked vaguely amused. “Some of them are.”
This was foolish. Why was he even thinking about it, about Rebecca Marston, whose father would toss him out on his ear
after
her mother fainted if he arrived on their doorstep? “Very unmarried,” he expostulated, rubbing his jaw.
after
her mother fainted if he arrived on their doorstep? “Very unmarried,” he expostulated, rubbing his jaw.
“I was unaware there were degrees, but do continue. So there is a
very
unmarried young lady out there. Why does she bring you to my sitting room on this dreary night?”
very
unmarried young lady out there. Why does she bring you to my sitting room on this dreary night?”
“I don’t know why I’m here.”
“I see. Can I venture a guess, then?”
Robert laughed out a choked sound of assent and John furrowed his brow. “I am going to say this young lady has captivated your interest and you—despite your determination to ignore it—can’t quite get her out of your mind. So, with casual seduction not an option—if it were, we wouldn’t be having this discussion—you are forced for the first time in your life to ask yourself if permanence is as frightening as you have always considered it to be.”
His mouth tightened, and Robert said more curtly than he intended, “Frightening? Excuse me if I resent the word choice. I do not think I am a coward.”
“Robbie, my boy, one’s fears do not evaporate when one becomes a man.” John contemplated the worn tip of his unpolished boot. “We are challenged by our emotions our whole lives. I think very few people who know you well are unaware of your wariness of emotional commitment. You were young when your father left this world so unexpectedly. All focus shifted to Colton because of the pomp and responsibility of the title. He felt the need to suddenly become a pillar of respectable behavior, maybe to a degree not necessary in a man of only twenty. Damien, also, became a direct ducal heir. He dealt with it by absorbing himself in the intrigue of the war at the first opportunity. You, on the other hand, decided to handle your life by indulging in as much pleasure as possible, be it women, wine, or a throw of the dice. You’ve followed your chosen paths a little too well, all three of you.”
The assessment was not necessarily flattering, but it was insightful. Robert nearly choked on his mouthful of wine. “Is that so?”
“You did come here for my opinion, correct?” Amusement glinted in John’s eyes, but it was benevolent. “Why don’t you tell me who this young woman is who has finally tugged at your formerly inviolate heart?”
Good God, he was reluctant. But Robert had the growing fear that for the rest of his life he would remember the touch of her lips parted beneath his and the telltale catch in the soft exhale of her breath.
. . . I did not marry because of you. . . .
More than anything he wished she had never told him. Maybe, if she hadn’t, he could have just walked away.
But it was too late for that. He knew, and moreover, she
knew
he knew.
knew
he knew.
“Rebecca Marston,” he confessed heavily. “Sir Benedict Marston’s daughter.”
His father’s old friend leaned back, his drink suspended in his hand. After a moment, he said heavily, “I believe I now understand your dilemma. I know him fairly well. Benedict is not a very flexible man, and I know he thinks ill of you.”
“Don’t think I don’t realize that.” Robert said with a hint of bitterness. “There is virtually nothing to stand in my favor. Correct or not, he despises me as a cheat, my reputation as you know is far from pristine, and though my finances are solid, his well-dowered daughter could have anyone. He doesn’t need my money, I bear nothing but a courtesy title, and even the Northfield name isn’t enough to ease this situation.”
“Are you sure? You’ve spoken with Sir Benedict?”
“No. The lesson in futility doesn’t appeal to me. Take my word, he’d never let me approach his virginal daughter.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Colton wields considerable influence, and Sir Benedict is an ambitious man.”
“Given my reputation, I’m not sure that fine breeding makes a difference.” Robert rubbed his temple. “Damn all, if I could really blame the man, John. If the story he thinks is true
were
true, I wouldn’t be fit to touch her hand. I don’t know that I am anyway. Before now, I hadn’t considered the ramifications of carrying around a certain brand of notoriety.”
were
true, I wouldn’t be fit to touch her hand. I don’t know that I am anyway. Before now, I hadn’t considered the ramifications of carrying around a certain brand of notoriety.”
“Our pasts do have an uncomfortable habit of dragging along behind us. Wait until you get to be my age.” John regarded him with slightly uplifted brows. “Tell me, what does she think?”
“Rebecca doesn’t know the whole story, but she is aware of her father’s disapproval of me.”
“Ah, you’ve spoken with the young lady, then.”
A pair of aqua eyes, hair silken as a moonlit midnight, intoxicating lips, soft, warm, and willing . . .
“We’ve talked,” Robert bit out, unwilling to discuss the kiss. “She claims she didn’t marry last season because of her . . . her absurd infatuation with me.”
He’d just stammered. Robert Northfield did not stammer.
“Is it absurd?” John twitched up a bushy brow. “If it is mutual, I mean.”
Robert gave him a moody look. “It could just be lust. She’s quite lovely.”
“But you understand
lust
quite well, Robert. If this young lady has such a grip on you, perhaps this is different.”
lust
quite well, Robert. If this young lady has such a grip on you, perhaps this is different.”
“One does not change one’s entire life on a perhaps.” Robert really could not stay seated one more moment, so he shoved himself to his feet. He walked over to the totem and stared into one of the grinning faces. “What if it isn’t in me to stay faithful? I would hurt her and—”
“And you couldn’t bear to do so,” John finished for him when he hesitated. “That says quite a lot right there. Your sentiment is in the proper alignment, at least. Does he suspect this romance?”
“He”
being Sir Benedict. Robert thought about Loretta Newman’s comment and Damien’s interference. That black look he’d received the night he’d strolled with her on the terrace, also, was hardly subtle. “Others have guessed, and Sir Benedict is an observant man. I would guess he does. Though I am not even sure
I
suspect a romance.”
being Sir Benedict. Robert thought about Loretta Newman’s comment and Damien’s interference. That black look he’d received the night he’d strolled with her on the terrace, also, was hardly subtle. “Others have guessed, and Sir Benedict is an observant man. I would guess he does. Though I am not even sure
I
suspect a romance.”
“Forgive me,” John said gravely, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice, “but I think you do. And I, for one, have been waiting for this moment for quite some time.”
Chapter Seventeen
Deception can take many forms. On occasion, concealing
the truth is a prudent course of action. But it
can also be a death knell to a tentative bond of trust.
If you are deceiving your lover, tread carefully.
From the chapter titled: “What He Needs to Know”
L
ea waved a hand. “We’ll ring if we need anything else, Mrs. Judson.”
ea waved a hand. “We’ll ring if we need anything else, Mrs. Judson.”
“Very well, madam. Your Grace.” The elderly woman inclined her head formally and left the room.
“Normally,” her sister informed Brianna with a laugh, “she bustles around and orders everyone about like
she
is the mistress of this household. Not that I mind, for she is beautifully efficient and the children adore her. Only when you come to call does she suddenly recall I am the sister of a duchess.”
she
is the mistress of this household. Not that I mind, for she is beautifully efficient and the children adore her. Only when you come to call does she suddenly recall I am the sister of a duchess.”
Brianna managed an absent smile. “How lucky you are to have her. Tell me, how are the children?”
It was a question that always sparked a litany of descriptions of their various exploits, but Brianna adored her nieces and nephew, so usually she was both entertained and eager to hear—but this particular morning, she had to admit she was distracted.
“. . . found it under the bed, of all places . . . Bri, are you even listening?”
“Of course,” she said automatically, but under the power of Lea’s skeptical gaze, she added with a sigh, “maybe not as closely as I should. Forgive me.”
They sat in her sister’s “formal” parlor, but, warmly decorated with chintz-covered chairs and embroidered pillows, the room could only be described as cozy. Hung on the walls were several watercolors her sister had painted recently. Lea set aside her teacup. “Is something wrong? You said the house party at Rolthven was a success. From the comments in the newspaper, everyone seems to agree. I wish Henry and I could have been there.”
“It was fine. I do believe the guests enjoyed themselves. Even Colton seemed to relax.” Brianna moodily contemplated the bottom of her cup. “At least that was the impression I received. Now he’s acting quite different.”
It was true. Ever since their return, he’d been more preoccupied than ever. In retrospect, revealing her true feelings had been a mistake. She should never have told him she loved him. With those simple words, everything had changed, though she could have sworn that at the time, he’d been moved. Certainly the passionate kiss they’d shared afterwards had been long and hard, and his lovemaking both tender and urgent, but maybe she’d misinterpreted physical desire as an emotional response.
“Define different.” Lea frowned in concern. “I can tell this is deeply bothering you.”
“It’s hard to describe. He’s . . . distant.”
“More than usual?”
That brought a wry smile. Yes, the formal façade Colton presented to the world did give the impression of ducal privilege, not easygoing warmth, but she knew firsthand he was capable of both. “Yes. Definitely more than usual. It could be he is just busier than ever after those days in the country I imposed on him, but he hasn’t . . .”
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