Page 29 of A Duke's Overlooked Spinster
“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 socialcompany. 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 Grace?” 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 hadto 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?”
