Читать книгу The Secret Love of a Gentleman - Jane Lark - Страница 10

Three years later

Rob leaned on a windowsill in the first-floor drawing room, looking out onto the gardens below. His gaze caught a sudden movement across the lawn. It could have been the shadow of a cloud sweeping across the sky, if the movement was dark and not light. But it had been something pale blue.

It could have been a ghost if it was night and not midday. But it was not a spectre. He would lay strong odds it was the tail end of Caroline Framlington’s skirt disappearing behind the hedge. Perhaps a ghost of sorts, then.

Rob leant more firmly onto the windowsill.

Her fingers had held the rim of her bonnet, hiding her face as she’d hurried away, head down, scurrying from the house.

He assumed she’d left the house because he’d arrived. He had not even come within ten feet of her. It did not bode well.

“Do not take it personally.” His brother-in-law said jovially, in a low tone, resting a palm on Rob’s shoulder. “Caro does not appreciate company.”

Rob turned to look at Drew “And male company particularly… Yes, I know. Are you sure it is a good idea for me to stay here if it will disturb her?”

“Life must go on, Robbie, she cannot orchestrate what we do. Caro will keep to her rooms as she does most of the time. I wish she would be braver, but I do not have the heart to force her into facing her fears, and yet nor will I pander to them. She’ll cope because she has to. We have servants, after all, and men among them. It is not only Mary and I who live here. It is just because your presence is unfamiliar and so she feels threatened.”

“I could stay at John’s.”

“Rattling about your brother’s monstrosity of a mansion on your own. No, Robbie. Mary invited you for the summer because she wants to spend time with you. You and I can go out shooting and fishing, and riding.”

“I can ride over daily from John’s and do that. His property is only a few miles from yours.”

“And kick around the house alone all night, bored. Do not be foolish. You will stay, and Caro will adjust. It is only going to be for the summer. Caro will survive.”

“Or hide.”

“Well more likely that. But either way, it will do her no harm.”

“Uncle Bobbie!” George, Drew’s son, charged across the room and barrelled into Rob’s leg. The boy was barely two, and a little tyke, but adorable despite it. He still refused to sound his “r”s and thus Rob, known to his family as Robbie, had become Uncle Bobbie to the boy.

Rob bent and caught the child by his chubby arms, lifted him and tossed him in the air once, then caught him and turned him upside down. George laughed in his childish giggle.

His nephew was another good reason to stay, as was his infant niece, whom his sister currently cradled on her arm while speaking with their mother.

Rob loved the children. There was something very endearing about being hero-worshipped by George, something his younger brothers rarely did.

Mary was the sibling he was fondest of. She was the closest to him in age and temperament, and her notorious husband had always treated Rob like a grown man, even when Rob had been scarcely that. Rob had been eighteen when Drew and Mary had eloped.

“And I have been looking forward to your company, as has this rapscallion.”

“Uncle Bobbie, I want to fly!” George cried.

Rob carefully let him descend to the floor, head first.

The boy rolled onto his back, then rose and turned to his papa to be caught up again, in a firm hold. “Your uncle Robbie is not going to swing you about all day, George.”

“Boats!” The boy yelled.

Rob ruffled the child’s hair. “Yes, I will play boats and kites, and ball, George. We’ll do lots of things.”

“Aun’ie Ca’o too.”

“Perhaps.” Drew avoided the true answer.

“We ought to be getting back to John’s, if you are ready, Robbie?” Rob looked at his mother as she stood up.

Mary stood too, with the baby sleeping in her arms. “We shall see you at John’s tomorrow. I believe we have even persuaded Caro to come, because the children are. But I doubt she will speak to anyone but them.”

“I do feel sorry for her. I wish there was more I could do.” Their mother smiled at Mary, then Drew. “But I have no idea how to help her, she always looks so uncomfortable the moment I begin any more personal conversation.”

“She is not so unhappy, Mama. She adores the children. She would be more distressed to think you pitied her.”

Unease swung over Rob, like a cloak settling on his shoulders, as Drew continued reassuring Rob’s mother.

Rob was still unsure about staying, but he did not really wish to remain at John’s. He turned to look from the window again.

His eldest brother’s, his step-brother’s, property was vast. So vast it currently housed every branch of the family. But after the garden party the family would splinter again and each aunt, uncle and cousin would return to their own homes, and John and his wife, Kate, were retiring to a smaller estate for the summer.

Rob could change his mind and go home with his parents or stay with any of his uncles and aunts, but he would still be one of a dozen wherever he went with them. He wanted to spend some time just as himself.

He’d finished at Oxford at the beginning of the summer. He wished for independence. If he went home he would be lost among his siblings, and with his aunts and uncles, lost among his cousins, and being lost among his cousins was worse because most of the men his age were titled. He was not. Rob was the odd one out in his extended family, the only firstborn son without a title or a huge inheritance awaiting him.

Here with Mary and Drew that did not matter. Rob could be himself, independent, respected, and hero-worshipped by his nephew, and it was close enough to town that he could also begin to plan for his future. He could hunt for lodgings in London and move into them in the autumn. All he needed to do then was choose a living. In his mind he had a grand idealistic plan, yet in practice he was unsure how this great feat of his might be managed.

Not that he needed an occupation, he had an income provided by his ducal brother. He’d come of age, he was one and twenty, and on the day of his coming of age he’d received his first quarter’s allowance—but the idea of living off John jarred brutally.

John had everything. He was rich, titled and successful in both the management of his estates and in the House of Lords. He’d lived abroad for several years and explored archaeology in Egypt, returning with his finds as trophies. He drew like a master, sung with the voice of a professional and played the pianoforte equally well.

What do I have, what can I do? Rob wished to make something of himself. To make some mark on the world. To do something worthwhile with his life, but he wished to achieve it through his own efforts. His cousins and brother might mock him as a philanthropist but he did not think it a bad thing to wish to make a difference. He refused to sit back and live on the largesse of his brother. He wished to do something meaningful and inspiring. Something more than being dependent and idle.

He was the grandson of an earl and a duke, but not within the line of inheritance for either, and his father’s estate was small, too small for his father to require assistance. Rob could paint with moderate skill, sing with pleasing countenance, ride as well as any man, and shoot well, but he could not join a regiment, he was still an heir. He was good at many things, but a master of nothing, so numerous occupations were beyond his reach, while his step-brother had set a bar above him that was so high it could never be achieved.

But he still had his plan that would, he hoped, give him the sense of pride in himself that he craved, some separation from reliance on his family and bring benefit to thousands.

He longed for a position in government. That was his great plan—to carve out his place in the political world and create a niche for himself.

Yet to be elected he needed money for a campaign, and he did not wish to involve his father, or John, or anyone else in his family because they would simply offer him one of their pocket seats, which they owned through bribery. The whole idea of that rankled. It would feel immoral, and then again Rob would have achieved nothing on his own. There would be no pride in it. If he were to respect himself, when he spoke out for the poor, he could not do it when everything that had got him to that point had come from the wealthy.

He’d rather give the money he received from John to the poor and bypass himself, if that was the way he had to earn a place in parliament. Perhaps I am a philanthropist. But he hadn’t a clue where to begin without using John’s money. The only detail in the conception of his plan to date was that he did not wish it to become John-shaped.

This summer, therefore, was his time to think things through and develop his method to win himself a place in the governance of the country which had been earned and not inherited.

“Robbie.” His mother touched his elbow.

His thoughts had been a mile away.

Looking at her, he smiled. He’d driven her over here to see Mary. His father was with John, looking over John’s estates.

“We ought to go, and leave Mary to settle Iris and George down for a nap.”

He agreed. He kissed his sister’s cheek, before bending to kiss his niece’s forehead as his finger brushed over the wispy hair on her soft head.

He would stay here. With Mary and Drew, where he did not feel such a lesser mortal, or so lacking in achievements and ability.

Drew slapped Rob on the shoulder. “We shall see you tomorrow, and we shall have a merry time over the summer.”

~

Caro looked out of the open French door at those gathered on the terrace and the lawn beyond it. It had been over three years since she’d first visited the Duke of Pembroke’s. She had felt then as she felt now, overwhelmed, afraid, and yet angry. Nervous sensations tingled across her skin, as her heart raced.

There were dozens of people here, adults and children, all laughing, smiling and talking.

Drew was among them playing cricket as Mary sat on a blanket beneath a canopy watching him, with Iris in her arms.

Many of the women held young children.

Caro was the only parasite—unmarried and childless, sucking the blood from this family, hiding among them, dependent and clinging to her brother. She hated her reliance on Drew, it pressed into her side, a steel-hard pain. Sometimes she felt as though Albert’s hands were still about her neck, cutting off her breath and that she had not taken a breath since she’d left him three years before.

Yet this family accepted her, all of them. She could not blame her misery on them. They were simply a constant reminder of what she had failed to possess, she had not succeeded in winning the love of her husband, or to bear his child. Guilt, shame and longing hung about her and whispered in her ears as constant companions.

Caro sipped from the glass of lemonade she held. If the family had gathered at Drew’s house she would have retired to her rooms and found a book or embroidery to absorb her thoughts. But today she had been foolish enough to agree to travel with them. Yet Mary had asked specifically and refusing would have seemed too rude.

“Throw!” The Duke of Pembroke yelled from his position behind the wicket, holding up his open hands. The ball was thrown to him and his uncle was caught out.

Some of the women and children cheered and others booed, depending on who their allegiance lay with.

The Duke slapped his uncle’s shoulder and his uncle laughed.

The Pembrokes were a happy, harmonious clan, and Drew was now one of them. He’d thrown the ball to John.

The crack of hard leather hitting willow echoed across the open space above the sound of conversation. Mary’s brother Robbie held the bat and ran.

He was to stay at Drew’s for the summer.

Caro watched him run from one wicket to the other. He was tall but lithe. He touched the bat to the ground, then ran back.

Discomfort rippled through her nerves.

“Papa! Uncle Bobbie!”

Caro’s gaze turned to Drew’s son. He’d escaped the women and was running on his little legs to join the game.

Before he’d run more than a dozen steps, Mary’s father caught him up and tossed the child, squealing, into the air.

Drew’s children were the only part of Caro’s life that brought her happiness. She spent hours with her nephew and niece.

Applause echoed over the lawn as Robbie ran his fourth length and beat the ball back to the wicket. He turned and braced himself to hit again, his dark-brown hair falling forward over his brow.

He was different from most of the Pembrokes, and from most of Mary’s family. He looked like his father, not his mother. He did not have the Pembrokes’ dark hair or their pale-blue eyes.

Drew had told her Robbie had seen her leave the house yesterday. Drew had said she’d made Robbie concerned about staying. Then Drew had waited as if he hoped she would say she did not mind Robbie coming.

She had not answered. She did not wish to discuss her silent madness with her brother. Guilt and shame had eaten away at her in the last three years and she was not a whole woman; she could not simply snuff out her feelings like the flame of a candle. She did not understand it herself, so how could she discuss it anyway. He’d encouraged her to speak with doctors in the early years, and yet the only one she had told had offered her laudanum to calm her nerves—nothing else.

She did not wish to feel ill as well as mad.

Perhaps Drew ought to have her admitted to an asylum and be done with it. She felt as though she was trapped within a prison anyway—a glass gaol of her own making.

A raucous cheer rang across the lawn outside as Robbie’s wicket was smashed by the bowling technique of one of his cousins. Once the cheering was over the men began to walk back up the hill towards the house.

Her heartbeat pounded violently in her chest.

Drew spotted her. Of course, he knew where to look. He knew she would not be outside among Mary’s family. He lifted his hand, peeling away from the others, who walked towards the women.

Her brother was a man to match the Pembrokes, he was tall, athletic and handsome; brown-haired and hazel-eyed. He’d carried his own insecurity before he’d married Mary, but not now. Mary and her family had healed him—made him a complete man. He was at peace with himself, confident and in love with Mary. He deserved more than to have a sister who clung like a shackle about his neck.

“Caro!” he called as he drew nearer. “Come and sit with Mary and me!”

“I am happy here!” she called back.

“Are you?” he responded with a smile. “You need not exclude yourself, though! Come!” He held out his hand as he walked closer.

Unfortunately, he was also stubborn.

Her lips trembled when she tried to smile.

Then he was there, taking her hand, whether she willed it or not. He pulled her outside. “Kate will take it as an insult if you do not join us.”

“She will not. The Duchess will not notice.” Yet Caro gave in to his urging rather than cause a scene.

His hold on her hand was loose as he pulled her on.

The only people she felt comfortable touching her were Drew and the children… and yet she craved touch. She felt starved of it at times. It was another anomaly of her madness.

He flashed a smile across his shoulder. “She notices. They all do. But admittedly no one thinks ill of you, and yet you still hide.”

She said nothing to that.

The family groups were gathered about the refreshment tables. Some of the children ran between people’s legs, playing a game of chase, until one of the Duke’s uncles called a stop to the game. “Enough, children, you shall knock one of us over!” Caro flinched at the tone of his voice. It rattled through her nerves.

“Come on.” Drew’s hold tightened on her hand as he felt her hesitation.

Caro focused on Mary, her heart racing with the pace of a galloping horse. Her panic was irrational, there was no threat and yet every one of her senses tingled with a need to run. Fear hemmed her in and tightened in a heavy grip about her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Flashes of memory stirred, images sparking through her thoughts like flashes of lightning—there and then not.

“Look what I found,” Drew said to Mary.

Caro fought the growing pain in her chest when Drew let go of her hand and tried not to gasp for breath as her heart pounded out a wild rhythm.

Mary smiled and patted a vacant space beside her on the blanket.

Caro sat down.

“Caro was in the house. I thought I’d bring her out here so that she could converse with you at least.”

Caro’s gaze fell to Iris—her niece was asleep in Mary’s arms. Instantly the panic eased, replaced by love and longing.

“Would you like to take her,” Mary offered.

Mary was a few years younger than Drew, but she was so good for him, and good to Caro.

“Thank you.” When Caro took Iris from Mary, the child stirred, her little hands opening as her eyes did.

Drew’s fingers brushed his daughter’s cheek. Iris looked up at her papa.

“Poppet,” he whispered.

Iris gurgled in recognition.

“Aun’ie Ca’o!” George barrelled into her side, tumbling onto the blanket with a roll. She clasped one arm about George while the other held Iris, and the world was at peace again.

“I hit a ball with Uncle Bobbie.” George announced.

“I held the bat with him.” The words came from above them.

Mary looked upward. Caro did not. Robbie’s voice grated on her nerves.

“I hit it far,” George declared slipping from beneath Caro’s arm to hug his mother instead.

“Clever boy,” Mary praised her son. “Perhaps Uncle Robbie will teach you how to hold the bat yourself in the summer.”

“And I missed this marvellous feat,” Drew said. “You will have to do it again after luncheon so I may see you.”

Robbie stepped closer.

Tremors ran across Caro’s skin and unravelled into her veins. She wished Robbie to move away.

He dropped down to sit on the end of the blanket, near Mary’s feet.

Panic claimed Caro in full force, her chest becoming so tight she could not pull the air into her lungs.

The baby made an impatient sound in Caro’s arms.

“Sorry, she’s fractious, she is hungry, I ought to take her in and feed her.” Mary gave her son another squeeze, then let him go and stood up. “Come along, little one.” She reached down so Caro could pass Iris back.

Robbie’s gaze rested on Caro as she held Iris up.

When Mary walked away, Drew sat down beside Caro and leant back on his hands, stretching out his legs. “You know your mother is taking your absconding personally,” he spoke to Robbie.

Caro’s limbs filled up with the weight of lead and she adjusted her sitting position, bending up her knees within the skirt of her dress and hugging them, as George crawled towards Robbie.

Robbie laughed and his hand ruffled George’s hair. “She is not ready for me to leave the nest. She thinks we are all growing up too fast.”

“I suppose that is my fault, for snatching Mary from it.”

“She does not hold that against you. You have given her more grandchildren in return. It is an exchange. I am just a loss.”

“Shall I tell her to stop henpecking and let you fledge?”

Drew was joking. He was close to Mary’s and Robbie’s parents. They were his parents too—because theirs had never fulfilled that role.

“Papa spoke to her. He supports me. He knows I cannot live on his estate, there is nothing for me to do there.”

When Caro had first come to the Duke’s home Robbie had been eighteen. He’d smiled and laughed frequently, but as a man he seemed more serious than the others. Most of his cousins had no interest in the children, his peers within the family always kept to their own group, but Robbie never stood with them. Yet his younger brother, Harry, did. Drew at his age had been wild, playing with danger, fighting everyone and everything.

“Of course you cannot, if you wish to sow a few wild oats?” Drew added.

“Not my style,” Robbie answered.

Drew’s face split into a broad smile, “So your brother told me.”

“Harry?”

“Harry…” They laughed again. Caro did not know the joke.

“Well, you may tell Harry to mind his own business, not mine,” Rob said, with a smile.

“But younger brothers are born to be a thorn in the side. Mary and I are working on one for George solely for that purpose”

“I have never been a thorn in John’s. He’d win whatever argument I started with a simple glance.”

“True, your older brother does have a way of making a man feel as small as a mouse. I ignore it.”

“I do not risk it. I never give him cause to deploy that look on me.”

Another laugh was shared between them as George scrambled back across the blanket to Drew, then began using his father as a climbing frame. He clambered up Drew’s back and then tumbled over Drew’s shoulder. George’s legs flew out towards Robbie.

Robbie reached to catch him and slow his fall.

Caro instinctively leant back.

Robbie and Drew looked at her, but Robbie did not move back, instead he shifted forward on to his knees, leaned over and tickled George’s tummy, making him giggle.

It left Caro sitting two feet away from him.

When Robbie stopped tickling, George crawled to her, to escape his uncle, still giggling.

The attention of both men followed George. Heat burned in Caro’s cheeks as the rhythm of her heartbeat rose. She pulled George onto her lap and hugged him, perhaps a little too tightly, but it helped relieve her discomfort.

“I am sorry I missed you yesterday, Caroline.”

Robbie was being polite, nothing else, but yet again her senses revolted. He knew she’d avoided him on purpose.

“Caro,” Drew prompted, when she did not answer, as though she was a child to be corrected.

Her gaze lifted to Robbie’s eyes. They were blue, but a much darker blue than Mary’s.

Caro had never spoken to him before, never been this close to him. He did not have the imposing presence of his elder ducal brother, his body was relaxed and his appearance therefore more approachable as he smiled at her. But he was still a man, even though he was young and behaved with good manners, and she was still uncomfortable with him so near.

He leaned sideways, resting his weight onto one hand. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and she could see his forearm covered in a dusting of dark hair.

George broke free from her embrace. “Papa, I need the pot,” he declared with extreme urgency. He always waited until the last moment.

“I’ll take him.” Caroline moved to rise, but Drew pressed a hand on her shoulder as he did.

“You stay here, I’ll take him.” He rose.

She knew what Drew was doing—he was forcing her to endure Robbie’s company. He’d expressed his view over her “flighty nature” dozens of times and he was never cruel about it, but he’d insisted often that she should try harder to overcome it. He was stubborn.

“I will do my best not to discompose you when I stay at Drew’s.”

Caro’s gaze spun back to Robbie. Every one of her senses screamed.

Robbie had a physical energy about him, an aura that said he was an active man and he was athletic in build.

“I… I…” Her gaze turned to where his elder female cousins sat a little way away. They had their husbands beside them.

She had never felt more desolate.

The tears which threatened caught in her throat as she clutched her knees, holding them close, clinging to herself as if she were driftwood on a swirling sea.

A family group the other side of them laughed. Caro unfurled and rose instantly. She could not do this. She turned and began walking, uncertain where she was going, but knowing she could not stay there.

“Caroline.” her name was spoken quietly. Robbie had followed. She glanced back, her gaze apologising. It was not his fault. He’d done nothing wrong.

But then she turned away and fled, striding across the lawn in the direction that Drew had taken.

She had truly cast herself a gaol cell.

~

Rob was torn. Should I chase after her? He’d said nothing wrong and yet guilt gripped in his chest. Caroline had braved his company and he’d scared her off.

He cursed himself as he watched her ascend the shallow flight of stairs leading to the stone terrace and then disappear into the house, a phantom again.

He’d have to apologise this evening.

When they ate dinner he watched Caroline often, glancing at her across the table. Kate had pandered to Caroline’s insecurities, she’d been seated between his mother and Mary, disobeying the male, then female, structure of the entire group. But between the women who she knew and perhaps felt a little more comfortable with, Caroline had animation. Deep in conversation, she smiled at Mary on occasions and her hand gestured as she spoke.

She was beautiful, but not in the striking way of his family. Caroline’s beauty was almost indefinable—there was no particular notable element—but the elements put together…

Her hair was blonde, a golden yellow, her skin clear but not remarkably pale, and her eyes hazel. Her nose was slender and long, and her lips generous, but when they parted in a rare smile, it lit up her face, awakening her overall beauty. He was fascinated. He hardly spoke to his aunt Jane and his cousin Eleanor, who flanked him at the table.

Watching Caroline was like watching a wild creature. She required patience. To observe her in reality you must sit in silence because if you moved she would know you were watching and be scared away.

Her gaze caught on his, only for an instant. Then she looked at his mother. But in that instant something hard struck him in the chest.

The candlelight from the candelabra on the table made her skin glow, and the different shades in her eyes became darker as the light flickered.

When the women rose and left the table, Rob spoke with his uncle James. They walked into the drawing room together later, once they had finished their port, and as they did, Rob’s gaze searched for Caroline.

She was sitting in the corner, beside Kate.

Every time he’d seen Caroline here over the years she’d hidden in corners.

“Robbie.” Rob turned at his ducal brother’s greeting. “I imagine you have been longing for this summer, to have your freedom and stretch your wings. I know I was excited at your age.”

“You did not just stretch your wings, you flew off.” John had been the ideal Rob aspired to when he was younger—but John was so damned perfect Rob would never match him. John irked him now. They were not particularly close. In Rob’s formative years John had been away at school and then abroad for years. When John had returned to take up the role of duke, he’d been a grown man and Rob still a boy.

“Yes, well, this country held no appeal when grandfather was alive, and I had a contrary nature. Leaving was the only way I could influence my life. You could do the same if you wished—go abroad. Your allowance is yours to do with as you will.”

Rob held his brother’s gaze as the words kicked him in the gut. Living on John’s generosity was not the life he chose. “I’ve no idea what I wish to do.” That was not true, but he would not share it with John because he knew one thing clearly, I do not wish to mimic you.

“Except escape Mama’s nest.”

“Well, yes, that, obviously.” Rob’s gaze swung away and reached across the room, only to find Caroline watching him. His heart thumped in his chest as he met her look. She turned away, and his gaze turned back to John.

“Will you run riot in town, then?”

“That’s Harry’s style. You know it is not mine.” Harry was the hell-raiser. Rob had never been that.

John gripped Rob’s shoulder. “Well, whatever you do, do not become a stranger.”

Rob nodded. John turned away. Rob looked back at Caroline. She was alone.

She was looking at her hands, which rested in her lap, trying to hide amidst a crowd. A phantom.

He walked over to her. “Caroline.” The muscle of her upper body jerked, her gaze flying to his for an instant. She hadn’t noticed him approaching. She looked down again.

Her hair was curled and coifed, with a few wisps trailing the length of her slender neck and kissing her cheeks. Those curls danced with her movement.

She was a slender woman, neither short nor tall, but fragile in appearance, and yet she had a generous bosom.

Rather than tower over her, he dropped into the seat beside hers.

She leant back a little.

“I am sorry for upsetting you this afternoon, but there was no need to run.”

Once more her gaze flew to him, before falling away.

“Look at me.” Rob urged quietly, sitting forward in his chair and leaning towards her. No one ever challenged her, no one. Everyone protected her.

The memory of his younger sister, Jemima’s, aversion to spiders came to mind. He’d caught one and kept it in a glass so that she could look at it, and eventually he’d persuaded her to touch it, now she could let one run across her hand. Fears ought to be faced.

Her gaze lifted to his, and her eyes shone from behind blonde eyelashes; her eye colour in candlelight was a dark amber. Her eyebrows arched as her fingers clasped more firmly in her lap.

“I am staying with Drew and Mary for the summer…” He searched for words.

“I know, Mr Marlow.”

Her gaze left his and looked for someone to rescue her, probably Drew.

“Rob, Caroline, not Mr Marlow. Look at me,” he said again. If she would look at him, then maybe he could begin to help break her fear.

She did, but her gaze raged at him, bidding him to leave her alone.

“Why do you not feel comfortable?”

She looked away. She was about to rise and run again. Instinctively he reached out and caught hold of her wrist. “Caroline…” But immediately he realised what he’d done. No one touched her except Drew, Mary and the children. Everyone knew Caroline could not abide to be touched.

It was as though a lightning bolt struck between them her reaction was so violent and sudden. Her gaze accused him of committing murder as his fingers opened. Her arm slipped from his hold when she rose from her chair and fled again, crossing the room to the safety of Mary.

Rob watched her flight and felt a heel. He should not have pushed her.

He looked at his sister and awaited a glance of condemnation. None came. Caroline did not tell Mary, and no one in the room had noticed that he’d approached Caroline.

He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his fist, still watching Caroline.

“You’re miles away, where are you?” Rob’s uncle Robert, the Earl of Barrington, occupied the chair Caroline had vacated.

As Rob leant back, his ankle lifted to rest on his opposite knee and he smiled. Uncle Robert was his favourite uncle, his father’s brother. Rob had been named for him.

“I did not think you were coming. I thought you were going home to Yorkshire.”

“Jane wished to spend some time with everyone before we left. I gave in to her coercion.”

Aunt Jane was sitting at the pianoforte, in the company of his cousin Margaret, sorting through music.

Rob had been close to them from a young age. Their eldest son, Henry, was of an age with Harry, so Rob and Harry had stayed with them frequently as children.

Henry was more like Harry, though. They were both currently standing to one side of the room drinking and laughing with the others of their age group.

Rob looked back at his uncle. Robert had undertaken a grand tour, as John had. “Did you enjoy the continent when you were there?”

Robert smiled, then looked at his wife. “Jane grew up on a manor bordering my father’s land. We were close as children. I was in love with her, but she married someone else, an arranged marriage. She broke my heart. I left England because I was miserable. My time abroad was equally miserable.”

Rob shifted to sit upright, his leg falling from his knee. He’d known Jane grew up with his uncle and his father, but he had not known his uncle had loved her then. His father often likened Harry to their uncle Robert, but in that context there was nothing similar. “I thought you’d gone abroad for fun, like John.”

“No, I was sent there in disgrace by your grandfather. I’d dropped out of university and become an embarrassment.”

“I did not know. I’m sorry.”

“Why should you have known? What of you? Have you decided what you will do?”

“No, beyond finding rooms in London during the summer.” He’d told none of his family about his great plan. He knew if he spoke of it they would grasp upon the idea, and in the name of helpfulness take it over and manipulate it all so that the achievement would not be his. If he wished to take up a place in the House of Commons and speak for the working class he needed to first earn the people’s trust and win a true vote, not one contrived by his family.

“You know you would be welcome with us, if you wished to come. The tenants are due to leave the estate, which used to belong to Jane’s father. I’d be happy for you to take it over and cut your teeth managing that.”

Rob’s father had done that, he’d managed all of the Barrington Estate, while Robert had been abroad and, like John, Rob’s father set the bar high for any comparison. No, Rob wished to take his life in a direction that no one in his family had gone. Following in his father’s footsteps and relying on his uncle held no greater pleasure than living off his brother’s generosity.

“It is only an offer, Robbie…”

Rob’s gaze travelled to where Caroline stood. She had been looking at him; she looked away.

A spasm seized his stomach. It was odd to have her look at him.

“If you change your mind write and let me know. I’ll probably not re-let it for a few months; there is some work to be done on the house.”

Rob looked at his uncle. “Henry may want it in a couple of years?”

“Henry will have plenty to occupy him on my other estates and Henry is not you. My son is reckless and self-absorbed. He’ll not settle to anything that requires sobriety and forethought for years. The only thing he is currently interested in is racing horses. He spends more time with Forth than me.”

Lord Forth, who bred horses, was a neighbour of Uncle Robert’s and a friend of Rob’s father’s too.

“Racing is Henry’s passion and his weakness,” Rob stated.

“What is your weakness?” His uncle lifted an eyebrow.

His whole family believed he had no weaknesses, thanks to Harry’s mocking. His brother liked to taunt Rob for being staid. Or boring, as Harry put it. But Harry was so damned wild Rob had always been too busy hauling his brother out of scrapes to get into any of his own. Being the eldest boy he’d been forced into responsibility for his siblings.

Yet his peers in the family had never done the same.

It was true he had no vice, though. But he did not think himself dull.

He’d drunk excessively once, and woken up hating the fact he could not recall what he’d said and done. He’d played cards for money once and lost half his allowance, then considered gambling a fool’s game.

Perhaps his weakness was idealism. But in truth, now… “A lack of inspiration.” The look he shared with his uncle mocked himself. He had this great plan, but really it was no plan at all, simply fanciful, he did not have a method by which to achieve it.

“Something will come along to give you purpose. Wait and see.” His uncle looked away, turning as his eldest daughter, who was fifteen, joined them.

“We are going to dance, will you dance with me, Papa?” She gave Rob a smile. Julie had her mother’s unusual green eyes.

“Julie.” Rob nodded.

“Robbie,” she bobbed a shallow curtsy. It was unnecessary but the girl was already practising for her debut. He smiled more broadly and she smiled brightly.

“I shall be honoured, young lady.” Uncle Robert stood.

Rob looked across the room. Caroline was standing beside his sister, looking at him. Before she had chance to look away, he smiled as he had just done at his cousin. Red stained Caroline’s cheeks when she did look away.

Rob rose. It would be crass of him not to offer to escort one his female cousins in the dance.

They danced a string of over half a dozen country dances, and he participated in every one with one of his cousins or sisters, but as he did so, he noted Caroline watching him frequently. If he’d been more courageous he would have offered to partner her, but she never danced.

He wondered if she wished to dance, if perhaps she was trapped by her fears and they were just as disturbing for her as they were for those trying desperately not to upset her.

Idealism was certainly his fault, because in his mind’s eye he saw her dancing. She’d come to life when she’d spoken with Mary. How much more would she come to life if she danced without fear.

I shall dance with her by the end of the summer. The promise whispered through his soul. He abhorred dares, dares were another thing that was Harry’s forte—but if Rob wished to achieve something, when he set his mind to it, he did so with determination. He would see her dance because he firmly believed, from the amount of times she had looked at him this evening, she was not happy to be withheld by her fear. She wished to dance.

If I wish to achieve something, when I set my mind to it, I do so with determination… He’d hold that thought fast through the summer, and find a way to win himself a seat in the House of Commons without the assistance of his family.