Page 50 of The Rake and Lady Julia
Robert remained to assist with removing Cavendish from the buggy, but hearing the commotion, the servants of Cavendish House rushed outside to help, and Rob found himself pushed aside.
"Pleas e, tell Lady Julia that I am here," Rob said to the second, who was following the morbid procession up the steps of the house.
The young man grunted in reply, and, uncertain of what to do, Rob decided to wait right there where he stood. A good hour passed, and Robert had seated himself upon the footpath, when the door to Cavendish House creaked open.
"Julia," Rob stood, suddenly aware of how terrible he looked. His costume was now wrinkled and dirty, his clothes stained with blood.
He did not look like an innocent player, he thought with a stab of fear.
Julia gazed coolly down at him, before descending the steps to meet him.
"The man who brought Thomas home told us that he had been involved in a duel," Julia said, her lips pale and her eyes watery, "A duel which you partook in."
"I did not, I swear it," Robert answered, anguish making his voice cracked and hard, "I would never jeopardise what we have for a mere brawl. I love you, and as such, I am obliged to love your kin. I played no part in what happened between Lord Michaels and your cousin—I tried to stop it. I care not for the silly feud our fathers' fathers started; I care only for you."
"Sweet words," Julia replied, offering him a hollow laugh, "I fear that's all you have to offer a lady, my lord. You talk a good talk, and more fool me, I believed it."
"No," Robert shook his head, as though the action might make her words vanish, "I swear to you, Julia, I was not involved."
But she did not believe him. It was clear as day from her furrowed brow and pinched mouth that Lady Julia had closed her heart to him once more. He had thought he might soon learn all of Lady Julia's secrets, but now he was simply to become one of them.
Rob almost wished that he had never succeeded in breaking through its barriers, for had he not, he would not know what it was that he was now losing.
"I fear," he said, as he emitted a heavy sigh, "That of us both, it is you who holds the enmity betwixt our houses closest to your heart."
She was about to object, but Robert held up a hand to silence her.
"I pray your forgiveness if you find me rude," he said, as he struggled to keep his voice from shaking, "But, you see, you have broken my heart, and I request your permission to withdraw with dignity."
She stilled, her eyes filled with pain, but she remained silent.
"My lord," she finally said, graciously inclining her head.
"My lady," Robert replied, before turning on his heel, and walking slowly away from her.
He had tried—Lud, he had tried—he told himself valiantly, but their stars were crossed, and there would never be a happy ending for the children of two warring houses.
The next morning, Rob awoke, hoping that the previous night had all been but a dream. Alas, as Balthazar read him the morning papers, which hinted heavily at what had transpired, Rob's hopes were dashed.
This would not blow over, as he wished. Julia was lost to him forever.
"Are we dressing to go out, my lord?" Balthazar queried, as he assisted Rob from the bath.
"I am going as far as the library," Robert answered in reply, "Where I intend to drink a bottle of brandy—dress me as you see fit."
Balthazar paused, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Your silk banyan it is," the gentleman's gentleman said brightly, and in a short while Robert was dressed in a comfortable white shirt and buff breeches, with his banyan thrown over them.
Bless Balthazar, he thought as he made his way to the library, if Robert was going to wallow, the valet was ensuring that he did it in style.
In the library, Robert opened a bottle of brandy, as well as some of the ledgers for the estate, lest anyone interrupt him. He passed a few hours merrily wallowing in his own self-pity before a knock on the door interrupted his party.
"Robert," a voice called, "Are you in there?"
Lud, Rob swallowed a groan; the last person he wished to see, when his spirits were so low, was his father, and yet he was the very person who appeared.
"Drinking before luncheon?" Staffordshire tutted, as he bounded into the library.
