Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (33 page)
“Brianna is most certainly both gracious and beautiful. My brother is a lucky man.” He smiled at Rebecca. “I understand you have been friends since childhood.”
“They were inseparable as little girls,” Lady Marston informed him, cutting off her daughter’s reply. “A bit on the mischievous side, the both of them, but that has all changed. Like most well-bred young ladies, they outgrew any tendencies to impropriety. Look how well Brianna married. Your brother is the soul of respectability. A true gentleman, not just in name, but in deed. Lord Damien also has an impeccable reputation.”
Under other circumstances he would be amused to be so obviously left off the list of his family’s respectable males. But he wasn’t amused at all.
The implication was clear enough. Any association with him would be the height of impropriety for a well-bred young woman. That it was true didn’t help matters. He couldn’t defend himself, and what was worse, Lady Marston seemed to know it.
In the end, he didn’t try. “Both my brothers are fine men, though I might be biased on the subject.” He hoped he looked bland.
“They hold you in the same high regard,” Rebecca said after sending her mother a quelling glance.
“I hope so.” He smiled at her leap to his defense.
“Yes, well, family members do tend to be blind to the faults of other members, don’t they?” Lady Marston looked at him pointedly, the remark so direct that Rebecca made a small sound, like a low gasp of dismay.
He hadn’t held any illusions about the nature of his probable reception here, but he had expected maybe a little less bluntness.
“Yes, but then again, they do tend to know each other better than anyone else. All too often public perception and the truth about someone’s character are quite different,” Robert remarked evenly.
“That’s true,” Rebecca agreed quickly. Too quickly.
“Perhaps in some cases.” Lady Marston didn’t look particularly swayed by his comment. “But every rumor has some basis in fact.”
Robert fought the urge to look at the doorway. Where the devil was Damien?
This close, all he could think about was the soft curve of Rebecca’s mouth and how it had felt under his, the gentle clasp of her hands, the scent of her hair, and bloody hell if the way she looked at him didn’t tell him she remembered it also.
And quite obviously her mother hadn’t missed it.
Rebecca’s lack of sophistication was disconcerting and yet endearing at the same time. Some of the ladies he usually associated with could carry on a flirtation under the noses of their husbands. Hell, he’d flirted back under the very same noses. Others were experienced widows, or kept women—like that infamous Lady Rothburg who had written an instructional manual on how to lure your husband back or some such nonsense. Robert didn’t frequent brothels, nor did he pay to have a mistress on hand, but he never lacked for female company if he wanted it.
Seduction was an art. He’d studied it, perfected his technique, and all of that did him no good when sitting in the stilted atmosphere of the drawing room of an ingenuous young lady who deserved every courtesy, every flowery word and romantic gesture of a proper courtship.
Damien was right, he probably could seduce Rebecca—the offer of a clandestine meeting at Rolthven came to mind—except he’d passed that chance by and would probably never get her alone again. Besides, he was opposed to the idea. Giving in to a visit to her parent’s drawing room was one thing, but compromising Sir Benedict Marston’s daughter meant a trip to the cathedral, all the trimmings . . . and why the devil he was even having this recitation in his head he didn’t know.
To his infinite relief Damien finally returned, and they hastily made their excuses and left. Once they were settled in the carriage again, Robert said dryly, “I hate to criticize your legendary craftiness, but that was a complete disaster.”
“How so?” Damien lounged on the seat across from him, looking unimpressed by the declaration. “Losing your touch, are you? Is the fair Rebecca no longer interested? I could swear after that tender kiss—”
“You watched us?” Robert interrupted, not sure why it made him so irritated.
“Not on purpose, you surly fool. I was standing outside in the dark and you were in a lighted room. Even through the curtains it was obvious what happened. Not to mention her face afterwards when she rejoined me and I escorted her back inside. That dreamy glow is unmistakable.”
“You are doing your best to make me feel guilty about this.” Robert shifted, indicative of his unrest. “It won’t work.”
“It’s working already. Heavens, Robert, why are you being so thickheaded? Everyone else just falls into your arms at the crook of your little finger, and you have to work for what you desire just this once. I do not see how that is so terrible. The fair lady is already won. All you have to do is convince her parents your intentions are honorable.”
“Oh, is that all?” Robert’s voice was wry. “Lady Marston’s very thinly veiled remarks on my lack of character pose somewhat of a problem. Had she said out loud she thought I was a scoundrel unfit to court her daughter she couldn’t have been clearer.”
“So? It will take some effort. Is the lovely Rebecca not worth it?”
“How easy it is for you to spout advice when you are not in my place.” Robert hesitated, torn between resentment and something else. Something he was afraid to examine too closely. Finally, he said, “Look, Damien, what she thinks she wants and what I am may not be the same thing. You have a point. So women like the rakish Robert Northfield. But they aren’t interested in the real me. I love music. I enjoy quiet evenings at home. I adore my grandmother and visit my father’s friends simply because I
like
them. There is every chance that Rebecca sees only the side presented to society. I am not so sure I am proud of that Robert Northfield, but women
do
like him.”
like
them. There is every chance that Rebecca sees only the side presented to society. I am not so sure I am proud of that Robert Northfield, but women
do
like him.”
“So you worry she is infatuated with the rogue, not the real man?”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the situation. He’d never had to examine his feelings before with the idea of permanence hanging in the balance. “I don’t know.”
“Oh please, give her credit for more perception than that. She can separate the man who plays the cello like a poet creating verse from the rakehell who only now and then shows a glimmer of sensitivity.”
That declaration made it all sound so simple, when it was anything but. Robert lifted a brow in a cynical movement. “A glimmer?”
“I said occasionally ‘shows a glimmer,’ ” Damien expounded, unruffled at Robert’s terse tone. “Quite frankly, of the three of us, you are actually the sensitive one. Colton seeks his solace in his work, I find it in war and intrigue, and you sought it in the arms of beautiful women. I do not pretend to be a philosopher, but at least you favored pleasure and human contact. Come now, brother: please explain to me why it isn’t possible for you to fall deeply in love with an equally sensitive young woman and find contentment in her arms only. Obviously moving from one bed to another hasn’t satisfied you.”
“What makes you think I am not content?” Robert realized he’d raised his voice and lowered it. “I have no interest in changing my life.”
“What about children? It has always been my opinion you will make a remarkably wonderful father. You have that sort of personality children love. You are very physical also, just the kind to cavort with your sons on the lawn or twirl your daughters in your arms. With your sentimental nature—”
“Good God, Damien, would you stop?” Robert said it thickly, suddenly picturing himself holding a laughing little girl with sable curls and eyes the color of a tropical sea. Nothing of the sort had ever crossed his mind before, and the surge of panic and emotion that gripped him at the thought was paralyzing.
“I will be quiet if you will honestly answer me one question.”
Anything to shut him up. Anything. Robert nodded once in brief, unwilling agreement.
Damien sat back against the squabs, his eyes steady. “Can you bear to hurt her? Because, trust me, if you walk away after that kiss, you will.”
Frustration rose in Robert’s chest and he choked out, “I have no intention of hurting anyone.”
His brother said softly, “Good, then don’t.”
The silence was weighty. Rebecca studied the Grecian urn on the table in front of her with forced concentration as she felt her palms begin to dampen. Her mother’s gaze could only be described as both steely and speculative.
Lady Marston finally broke the strained quiet, speaking in clipped tones, “May I inquire as to what that was all about?”
Rebecca transferred her gaze to her mother’s set face. “What do you mean?”
“I cannot believe it myself, but I think Robert Northfield just called on you. For all I know, he sent you those gorgeous tulips, which must cost a fortune, because where on earth would one get tulips this time of year?”
Actually, Rebecca had the suspicion Damien was really the one who had the flowers delivered. It was just the kind of gesture she pictured the enigmatic Northfield brother making. Her assumption wasn’t based on the lovely blooms themselves, rather on the cryptic card signed with a generic surname. That seemed to be a much more Damien sort of thing to do. Robert would have put his own name. “I very much doubt it,” she was able to say with sincerity.
“He came to see you.”
“He came with Lord Damien. They stopped off merely on their way to another destination, remember?”
“Rebecca, I am your
mother
.”
mother
.”
She certainly didn’t need to be reminded of that fact. “I didn’t realize it was in dispute,” she said unwisely, as resorting to sarcasm was rarely a good idea.
Upright, her hands crossed in her lap, her mother stared at her across the room. “I sat here and saw the way he looked at you. Moreover, I saw the way
you
looked at
him
.”
you
looked at
him
.”
Well, maybe it was best Rebecca could finally tell the truth. “I’ve been,” she said quietly, “looking at him that way for quite some time.”
It wasn’t often her mother was rendered completely speechless.
Rebecca went on in a matter-of-fact tone. “Not, mind you, that he noticed me until lately. I might have been invisible, really. Whatever you’ve heard about him, I am sure you will agree he avoids young women like me who carry the dreaded label of
marriageable
. He isn’t interested in permanence.”
marriageable
. He isn’t interested in permanence.”
But his arrival this afternoon perhaps meant he was reconsidering. Her hands were definitely damp, and she felt flushed. Robert Northfield had come and sat in their drawing room and had been unable to hold onto his usual debonair nonchalance. Surely that was progress?
“Whenever would you have had such a personal conversation?” Her mother’s fingers fluttered theatrically to her throat. “I knew I should never have allowed you to walk outside with him, even for such a short time.”
Rebecca wasn’t going to explain. “Tell me,” she said, “why Lord Damien is perfectly acceptable as a husband and Robert isn’t? They are both younger brothers to the Duke, both have respectable inheritances, both are handsome and well-educated, both—”
“Are not womanizing rascals,” her mother interrupted in a choked voice. “Are you seriously telling me you wish for us to allow
Robert Northfield
to court you?”
Robert Northfield
to court you?”
“You do not have to say his name as if it were some kind of a curse,” Rebecca murmured, stifling a hysterical urge to laugh at her mother’s incredulous expression. “And since you pose the question, though I doubt it will actually happen, I would like for you to not only allow it, but encourage it.”
“Encourage it? He’s . . .”
Rebecca lifted her brows and waited politely as her mother obviously sought the right words.
“He’s . . . well . . .
promiscuous
is the only way to describe it.”
promiscuous
is the only way to describe it.”
“He has been, or so rumor has it,” Rebecca conceded, feeling a twinge of jealousy. “But then again, many supposed gentlemen of the
ton
are, Mother. I am not that naïve. In marrying any man of our class, I run the risk he will keep a mistress or have an affair.” She thought of Brianna’s determination about that matter, and Lady Rothburg’s book. “I think every woman carries that concern when she chooses a husband, no matter how respectable he might seem. For whatever reason, I believe Robert would be quite the opposite if he should settle on one woman and decide to wed. There is something about him that tells me he would be loyal.”
ton
are, Mother. I am not that naïve. In marrying any man of our class, I run the risk he will keep a mistress or have an affair.” She thought of Brianna’s determination about that matter, and Lady Rothburg’s book. “I think every woman carries that concern when she chooses a husband, no matter how respectable he might seem. For whatever reason, I believe Robert would be quite the opposite if he should settle on one woman and decide to wed. There is something about him that tells me he would be loyal.”
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