Page 50 of A Duke's Overlooked Spinster
“No. Please,” Sarah murmured. “I am quite well. I think I would like to return to my chamber,” she added quickly.
“If you wish,” Caroline said carefully. “Are you sure you are well, Sarah, dear? You’re very pale.”
“I am quite well, thank you,” Sarah whispered. “I just need to rest.”
She turned to the stairs and walked briskly up to her bedroom.
Chapter 23
The sound of light chatter mingled with the clink of teaspoons and cake-forks and the din wore on Robert’s shattered nerves like the tight cravat that chafed at his neck. He turned away from the terrace and gazed out over the garden. He had briefly spotted Miss Brooke on the lawn, but she appeared to be there no longer, and his heart sank. He took a sip of his lemonade, draining the glass. He winced at the sourness of the last few drops and put the glass on the trestle table.
“Where are you going?” Lady Marina asked him as he turned towards the steps that led into the garden.
“I thought I might take a turn about the grounds,” Robert replied politely. “It is overly warm up here.” He gestured around him, where people stood crowded about, sipping lemonade or sampling the light delicacies.
“I will come as well,” Lady Marina said tightly.
“I would prefer some quiet,” Robert said honestly.
“I will be quiet,” she replied.
Robert inclined his head. Inside, he was wishing he could run off like he had when he was Henry’s age. He wanted nothing more than to hide in the hedge like he had when he was a child and wait for the Venetian Breakfast to conclude.
He said nothing.
Lady Marina followed him down the steps. Robert walked as briskly as he could without drawing undue attention, striding past a group of young ladies who laughed uproariously as they played quoits, and past the young men and young ladies who were tapping a shuttlecock to each other with the long-handled racquets.
“You seem in a hurry,” Lady Marina murmured as Robert strode swiftly past the group and on down the path, heading into the shaded area of the garden.
“I am. I have a great deal to think about,” Robert answered, deciding to be honest. She had seemingly forgotten that his son had collapsed just that morning—aside from a brief, polite inquiry as to Henry’s health, she acted as though it was a day like any other day, which, he supposed, it was for her and for the other guests.
“Are you thinking about the ball tomorrow?” Lady Marina asked. The entire house-party had been invited to join another friend of Edward’s—the Duke of Rudley—at his manor for a ball.
Robert looked straight at her. “No,” he said honestly. “No, I am not. I do not think I will go, as it happens. I have more important concerns here.”
“Oh?” Lady Marina’s nose wrinkled and her blue eyes, which were often sullen, flashed with spite. “Are you thinking about that silly governess? Or whatever she is? The one who joined you in Bath? She looked terrible today at the party. So worn out and pale! How can she think to appear in public like that?”
“Mrs. Wellman?” Robert asked, shocked because he had not seen her at the breakfast that morning. Then he realized who she meant, and he gaped at her. “Miss Brooke?” he exclaimed. “She is no governess! She is the cousin of our hostess here at the manor! She is equal to any of us in rank.”
“She is not equal to me,” Marina said, her face crinkled with distaste. “Or to you,” she spat.
Robert looked at her. He felt more astonished than angry, and more distressed than anything else.
“She is a human being,” he said tightly. “Therefore, she is all of our equal. And she is a kind, decent, moral human being, which makes her a good deal better than most. She is not your equal, you are right. I would not flatter you.”
“Oh!” Marina turned on him, rage showing in two spots of color on her cheeks. Robert turned away, feeling weary.
“I am sorry, Lady Marina,” he said tiredly. “But I am exhausted from Henry’s illness, and I wish to be left in peace. Please, allow me to return indoors.”
“Oh! You...scoundrel,” she spat the word at him.
Robert inclined his head. “I deserved that,” he told her, truthfully. He had been cruel to her—but then, he had been cruel from the beginning, for ignoring his own need to tell her how he really felt. It would have been kinder to put a distance there from the beginning.
“I don’t even like you,” she hissed at him as he walked past.
Robert nodded. “Well, then, I am doubly sorry,” he said, though inwardly he felt relieved. That much, he had thought was true for a long while. She seemed to find himself as distasteful as he found her. At least he would not be upsetting her too much.
He walked up the low flight of steps towards the manor.
