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

Chapter 19

“My wife,” Robert began, his voice tight in his throat. “Was called Elizabeth. She was a year older than me. We met when she was nineteen. At her first season.” He grinned, blinking at the memory. He had never discussed her with anyone. After she passed away, he had retired to London and shut the house to visitors, receiving nobody save Victoria and sometimes James. Nobody else had been welcome because he could not bear their awkward silences, their insincere condolences. “She was a kind person, an unfettered soul.” He swallowed hard, the words like a lump in his throat. He could see her face before him as she had been when she was nineteen. Her dazzling smile, her eyes, the joy that seemed to fill the room around her.

“She must have been a wonderful person,” Miss Brooke said in a small voice.

Robert smiled. “You and she would have liked each other, I think.” He tilted his head. “You are both free spirits. Both full of life.”

Miss Brooke said nothing, just looked down shyly at the compliment, and Robert continued his tale.

“I could not look away from her. I asked her father, the Earl of Alwood, for permission to court her that very night. I was eighteen,” he added with a grin. “Inclined to be spontaneous.”

Miss Brooke chuckled.

“He gave me permission and I lost no time in going to call on her. We went all over London together, and then when the Season concluded, I went to visit her at her home in the countryside. We were walking in the estate grounds when we came across a verderer who had been injured by a gunshot.” He shook his head. “I remember how she insisted on staying with him, how she demanded that I ride to the estate to summon somebody to help. I was young and impatient and all I could think of was that the fellow had spoiled our walk. I told her that he was just a verderer, not heavily wounded and that they could leave him there alone and go together to fetch help. That was when she said it. Nobody is nobody, she said. She reproached me—her eyes were sad as much as angry—and I never forgot. I remembered it ever since. I hope I never forget.”

His throat was tight. He could not speak. He coughed, his words coming out hoarse and quiet. He reached into his pocket, forgetting for a moment that he had given his handkerchief to Miss Brooke. He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky. There were stars there, silver against the cold dark velvet of the sky. He gazed up at their light. Elizabeth was up there somewhere, beyond the stars.

“She sounds like a remarkable woman,” Miss Brooke murmured.

Robert grinned. “She was. She was unique,” he added with a chuckle. “Henry is so like her. Stubborn, willful. Kind.” His grin broadened as he thought of his son, who might have inherited his hair and eyes, but who had everything else from his mother.

“It must be hard,” Miss Brooke said into the silence.

Robert nodded. “Every day,” he began. “I think of her every day. When I see Henry, sometimes the memory is too strong.” He coughed. Miss Brooke was watching him, compassion and understanding in her gaze. He let out a sigh. “Your story reminded me of something,” he said quietly. “It reminded me of myself. I have been unkind, isolating Henry for so many years. He needs other children. He needs friendly adults. Like you,” he added, his lips lifting at the corners. “You have done so much for him.” He gazed into her eyes and a steady thumping began in his heart as she chuckled.

“Henry has done as much to cheer me up,” she said with a smile. “He is a delightful child. Stubborn, as you say. Playful, generous of spirit. He is a good person.”

Robert inclined his head. “He is. He will be,” he added, unable to imagine Henry as an adult yet. “I think you have done a great deal to help him. He was too secluded at the manor. There was not enough to divert him. He has become more at peace here; happier.”

Sarah smiled at him. The warmth in her eyes touched his heart.

“I am pleased to hear it,” she said warmly. “If it were not for Henry, this house-party would have been very hard for me.” She looked down at her hands, which were clasped together. He gazed down at her. The gown she wore was a pale purple, like the flowers of some French irises in his mother’s water-garden. The color brought out the hue of her eyes, making them seem even bluer. He stared into them, his soul drawn into their pale blue depths. She seemed sad and he cleared his throat.

“Was this the first time you came to a gathering after your mourning period?” he asked her, understanding the way she must feel.

She nodded. “Yes. And yourself?”

“Mm.” He nodded. “It has been five years. This was the first time in five years that I thought to venture out. If it were not for Henry, I wouldn’t have.” He chuckled.

Sarah smiled.

He stared at her. She was so beautiful, her skin as soft as petals; pale in the moonlight. Her soft hair was touched with a golden glow in the candlelight, bringing its chestnut highlights out. Her willowy form was draped beautifully in the soft purple gown, and he could see how her eyes sparkled in the starlight.

Her lips parted a little as he leaned closer and his heart thudded, roaring in his ears. She was so close—close enough that he could smell the soft floral scent of her, and her dress brushed against his ankles. He leaned forward, intoxicated by the night, by the darkness, by her closeness. Her lips were pale and inviting in the darkness and he leaned forward so that he touched them with his own.

Miss Brooke gasped, and Robert stiffened, afraid that he had scared her. She did not move away, though, and he pressed his lips closer to hers. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close, his senses swamped by the sweet scent of her, the feel of her body against his, the sweet taste of her lips. They tasted like syrup, like the sweet cordial she must have drunk earlier.

He held her, losing himself in the feeling of her closeness, in the joy of kissing her. She was leaning against him, her body soft against his, and the very fact that she did not shy away, that she was not afraid, that she welcomed him, drew him closer still.

He felt her tense and he stiffened, then a split second later he heard what she had heard. Footsteps. Someone was coming towards them. He stepped back instantly, fear thrumming through his veins, making his heart thump faster than if he was running.

“Mama!” He exclaimed in horror as he saw who was standing there. His mother had come out onto the terrace. Lady Bardwell was a few paces behind, and Robert saw Miss Brooke step back and he reached out a hand to steady her, thinking she would pass out. She caught herself on the railing and Robert stepped forward, wanting to protect her against whatever it was his mother was going to say. She cleared her throat and he glared at her.

She took a step back.

“What is the matter?” Lady Bardwell called nervously to his mother. Robert tensed. If Lady Bardwell knew, then tomorrow Marina would know and soon thereafter probably the whole house-party would know. He could not let it happen.

Miss Brooke would be ruined.

“Mama,” he whispered.

“Nothing, Marcia,” his mother called back as Lady Bardwell appeared. “Just talking to Robert. Son? You will come in to join us,” she added, a demand that he could not refuse.

He glanced at Miss Brooke, but she had stepped into the shadows. When Lady Bardwell came over to join them, she did not seem to see her.

“Come, son,” his mother said firmly. “Let us return to the ballroom.”