A Duke’s Overlooked Spinster (The Courting Season #1)

Chapter 13

“Son! Where have you been?”

Robert turned to answer his mother, who was standing on the pavement behind him, near the coach. He glanced around, ensuring that Miss Brooke was not standing too close to them. He winced with embarrassment at the thought of how regularly his mother managed to say something that was rude about her.

“I was in the Pump Room all morning, Mama, along with the others.” His reply was unruffled. Inside he was seething. She talked to him as though he was Henry’s age and expected obedience from him.

“You were making a fool out of yourself,” his mother hissed. They were alone on the pavement, the other guests either continuing on past the coaches towards the Baths, or already seated and ready to depart back to the manor. “That was what I saw you doing.”

“Mama!” Robert tried to hush the fury in his tone, but he could not help it.

“It is true. Do not even think to question it. That woman is completely unknown in society. She’s from some obscure barony that nobody has ever even heard of. And she’s the same age as Victoria!” She said this last as though that was terribly scandalous.

“Mama, I am much older than Victoria,” Robert said carefully.

“That is not valid to my discussion,” his mother said fustily. “My point is, she is no debutante. She is not suitable, Robert. Mark my words, you’ll be the biggest fool in London when this scandal finds its way into the newspapers there.” She sniffed, her back to Robert as though she declined to be seen with him.

Robert felt his temper fray and he clenched a fist, willing himself to control his rage before he said something that he might regret later. She was his mother, after all, even though she was also the most vexatious person that he’d met. He took a deep breath and replied as politely as he could.

“Mama, I was sitting with the guests, talking and being sociable. Is that not what you wanted from me? You said I mope too much—that was your wording, not mine. I am not doing so any longer. Is that not something to celebrate?” He almost wished that she would agree. If she truly wished to see him happy, he could forgive her all her machinations.

“You are not socialising with the right people, Robert,” his mother said tightly. “Perhaps you have been out of society for so long that you have lost all of your social graces.”

Robert blinked. “Are you sure you would be the one to tell me that?” he asked, trying to keep an ironic look off his face. She had not evidenced many graces involving Miss Brooke.

“You know perfectly well to what I am referring,” his mother said formally. “And it will not do. Lady Bardwell has traveled all this way, and you have barely even spoken with Marina.”

“Mama...” Robert sighed. He had tried, more than once, to let his mother know that he had no interest in Marina. He did not want to insult the poor girl—after all, the entire situation was due to no fault of her own. But he did not find her pleasant company. She was shallow, uninterested in most of what he wished to say, and pettish. He could not like her, no matter how hard he tried.

“Now, what you will do is this. You will let the coach go back to Averhill with Henry and his nursemaid, and you will accompany me to the Baths, and escort Marina there.”

“My son needs me at the manor. You cannot command me,” Robert began, but his mother shook her head.

“Your son is well cared-for at the manor. You need have no concern for him. He has had a fine outing, and he will doubtless be tired now. You, on the other hand, need to be in proper social company. If you cannot do it for your own good, then do it for your son. How will he feel if his father is a disgrace?”

“Mother!” Robert felt his cheeks flush with rage, all of his control snapping at the words. One thing that mattered a great deal to him was that he was someone of whom Henry could be proud, a good example to his son. His mother knew that. To use that information so cruelly, to manipulate him, was more than he could ignore.

“Shh! Here is Lady Bardwell and Marina! Ah! My dears. How grand! Indeed, Robert is going to accompany us to the Baths. Not so, Robert?” she asked, looking up at him as though they had not been arguing.

Robert drew a breath. Three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly. His heart thudded.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure approaching. Lord and Lady Averhill were at their coach, and the figure that was walking swiftly in the direction of the same coach was Miss Brooke. She passed close to their group and that gave Robert the only idea he had.

“Yes, I shall accompany you,” he said to his mother and her friends. “If Miss Brooke will join our party. Miss Brooke? May I invite you to view the Baths with us?”

Miss Brooke had been trying to sneak past on the pavement, but at his words she stopped as if she had grown roots into the paving.

“Your G race ?” She gaped at him, then shut her mouth, noticing their gawping viewers. “Um. Indeed, thank you. I would like to accompany you, Your Grace.”

“Splendid.” Robert crooked his arm, inviting Miss Brooke to place her gloved hand in the curve of his elbow. His mother spluttered behind him, and he bit his lip, knowing that she was struggling not to scream in anger. In the moment, it was amusing, but he hated to think how she would rage later. He had to make sure Henry was out of the way for that. He did not wish his son to witness them being angry.

Lady Bardwell and her daughter fell in behind his mother, and Robert stepped neatly ahead, wanting to make a little space between his mother, her enraged friends and himself. Miss Brooke’s hand was tucked in at his elbow, and he was aware of it as though it was a hot coal, burning his skin. It was a neat hand, neither large nor small, and it fitted well into the curve of his arm.

“Please take Henry back to the manor,” he instructed Mrs. Wellman carefully. His guilt lifted at the sight of his son, dozing already on the seat of the coach. He bent close to the little boy, speaking as gently as he could. “I will return in about an hour, Henry. Be good and sleep well. We can go walking when I return.”

“Don’t be long,” Henry said to his father, then yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

Robert grinned and ruffled his son’s silky hair gently, then reached up to close the coach, waving at its occupants. The coachman trotted ahead, turning the coach a few yards away in the street and Robert waved in case Henry was awake.

Then he turned to Miss Brooke and continued down the street.

“Have you been to Bath before?” he asked Miss Brooke, trying to make conversation as they walked towards the Baths. He was aware of his mother, the countess and Marina all staring at his back and he was trying to stay calm.

“No, I have not.” She looked at him, her blue gaze forthright.

“Well, that’s honest.” He chuckled. “Nor have I, I must admit. I look forward to seeing the Baths. I have heard much about them.”

“Me, too,” Miss Brooke replied instantly. “They are ancient, and one of the best-preserved, if not the best preserved, Roman building in all of England.”

“That sounds most interesting,” Robert replied, smiling at Miss Brooke. He had thought that she might be interested in ancient ruins and architecture—the sketches she did suggested it. But he had not guessed that she would be so knowledgeable as well.

“I find it very interesting too,” she agreed.

“How old are they exactly? Do you know?” Robert asked as they rounded the corner. The Baths were just around the corner from the Pump Room, just a few hundred paces away.

“They were built more than one-thousand-seven-hundred years ago, I believe,” she replied instantly.

Robert let out a whistle of amazement. “That ancient!” he replied. “Well, is that not wondrous?”

“It is,” Miss Brooke agreed. “And it means...” she began, but then they rounded the next corner, and she stopped dead, falling immediately silent. Before them, rising from the stone paving, built in ancient, dark stone, was a tall building. The walls were damp and crumbling here and there, but the entire building was still intact. Stone steps led up to the entrance. A roof with a pediment crowned the structure. Fissures did manifest, yet in every other regard, it remained as splendid as ever, albeit undeniably imbued with an air of venerable antiquity and grandeur. The Baths!

Robert whistled.

“They’re magnificent,” he breathed.

Miss Brooke was quiet, simply gazing up at the edifice. Robert wondered what she was thinking.

“They are impressive, eh?” he asked carefully after a few minutes.

“They are breathtaking,” she whispered. “I cannot even find words.” Robert glanced at her, seeing that her eyes were damp. He drew her aside so that the other guests could pass, not wanting them to disturb her.

“They are very impressive,” he murmured softly.

“They are so old,” Miss Brooke breathed. “And yet, they are still here. Our lives are so short, and yet this magnificent building endures, as intact as if it had been built yesterday. Human lives are so short compared to this.”

Robert swallowed hard. “Indeed,” he murmured softly. “Indeed, they are.” His heart twisted. She was right. Man exists for but a fleeting moment when compared to the countless—nay, thousands—of years that stone, or even trees, may endure. Seeing the ancient stonework before them brought the thought forcibly to his mind. Elizabeth had been six-and-twenty. So young. Impossibly young.

“I am sorry,” she murmured, reaching into her reticule as if she looked for a handkerchief. “I did not mean to bring such a dark aspect to the place.”

“Not at all,” Robert said gently. “What you say is true.” He reached into his coat pocket, drawing out a handkerchief and handing it to her at the same time as she brought her own out of her reticule with a flourish. He chuckled. “Should you need one, you may always borrow mine.”

“Thank you,” Miss Brooke replied. “I would offer likewise, but I fear this one is already used.” She wiped her eyes and grinned.

He let out a guffaw. “I suppose it is,” he said with a smile. “But nonetheless, I thank you. One should always be among friends from whom one can borrow a handkerchief.”

Miss Brooke smiled. “Thank you,” she murmured.

His eyes held hers and he realized, suddenly, that he had acknowledged her as a friend, and that she had accepted. He let out a slow breath. She was standing beside him, close enough that he could feel the whisper of her soft muslin gown even through the thicker stuff of his trouser leg.

The other guests had all gone indoors to view the baths, and Robert realized distantly that they were alone on the pavement, staring up at the facade of the building. He turned to Miss Brooke, inclining his head.

“May I escort you indoors, miss?” he asked her gently.

“Please do,” she said softly.

Her gaze held his and Robert made himself breathe. Her eyes were gentle, pools of warmth in which he could drown. He could not tear his gaze away and he took another breath, knowing that he had to get them indoors before his mother found them.

“Allow me to escort you,” he said, crooking his arm at the elbow.

She nodded and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and they walked slowly up the pavement towards the building. Robert glanced at her as they stepped in through the doorway. She was gazing at the building in wonder and his heart filled with feelings he could not name, but which had deserted him for years. He swallowed hard and looked away. His mother was in there somewhere, but at that moment he barely had a thought to spare for her reaction and what might become of him later. All he cared about was the smile on the beautiful face beside him. He was, for the moment, delighted.