Page 51 of A Duke's Overlooked Spinster
He strode up the stairs to his room and shut the door quietly and walked to the inner door, the one going into Henry’s chamber. He opened the door a crack. Henry was in bed, his eyes closed. Mrs. Wellman was by the fire, apparently asleep. Robert tiptoed in.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Wellman greeted him. She sounded sleepy, but she was still awake, and she had evidently been awake the entire time, judging from how she clutched her sewing in her hand busily.
“How does he fare now?” Robert asked. He glanced towards Henry, heart thudding.
“He is sleeping. His fever is a little less than it was,” the maidservant explained.
Robert slumped forward with relief. “Good. Has he awoken?” he asked.
“He has slept since the morning,” Mrs. Wellman told him. “I have done nothing to wake him save for wiping his brow with a damp cloth, as Miss Brooke did. He seems a little cooler.”
“Good. Good.” Robert closed his eyes for a moment, gratitude overwhelming him. He had been unable to think of anything else. He had only gone to the party because he knew he was not particularly useful in the sickroom and that if he sat around by himself, he would go crazy. He had too much to think about.
“I will sit with him,” Mrs. Wellman said gently.
“I will be close by,” Robert assured her, and went back to his room, shutting the door silently behind him. He went to the window and stared out. The party was on the other side of the house, and he could see none of the guests, just the empty grounds and then woodland stretching to the distant hills. He gazed out of the window, his mind moving from Henry to the other topic that was never far from his thoughts: Miss Brooke. He remembered how she had worked tirelessly to help Henry. How she had sat by his bedside, the little dog with her, and how Henry had looked at her and called her his mother.
He was in delirium,he thought firmly. Henry must have believed that his mother—Elizabeth—was in the room. The thought made Robert’s heart twist. At the same time, Henry had called Miss Brooke “mother”. If Miss Brooke was not particularly motherly, the confusion would likely never have occurred to Henry.
He stopped thinking, the realization cannoning into him like a blow. Miss Brookewasmotherly. She was incredibly motherly. She had been so from the very first day that they met. That was why they had met, in fact...Henry had sought her out first.
“God, thank you,” he said aloud. He had never been particularly religious—in fact, after Elizabeth’s passing, he had struggled with his faith. But in that moment, he knew that theremust be some higher power guiding him. He was no longer confused or afraid. He could see it so clearly.
“She is exactly what Henry needs,” he said aloud.
He had been afraid that his mother was right, afraid that if he pursued that course of action, he would ruin his son’s chances in society. But what did that matter when Henry would have a mother—someone he could trust and love? Somebody healreadytrusted?
Robert strode to the door and out into the hallway. His mother was at the party, but that did not matter. He had to speak to her. He had to find her.
He walked down to the entrance foyer, where a door led off to the terrace, and he tensed as he saw a party of guests coming in. Lord and Lady Bardwell and his mother were among them. He stepped back, feeling uncomfortable.
“Mama,” he greeted her as she spotted him. He had barely spoken to her since their argument after the ball and she looked at him coolly.
“We are coming inside to the drawing room,” she informed him. “It is too noisy out there and we need a brief respite.”
“Of course,” Robert replied. He looked at his mother, not sure of how to ask her if she had a moment.
“What is it, son?” she asked him a little impatiently as he joined them on their walk up the stairs. She had lingered behind to speak to him, letting Lord and Lady Bardwell and the other guests go up. He seized the opportunity it presented.
“Mama? If I may, I would like to ask you to speak with me a moment.”
“Good,” his mother said briskly. “Because I also wished to speak with you, as it happens.”
“Oh?” Robert’s eyes widened.
“Come,” she said, gesturing to an anteroom that Robert had not noticed on the left of the upper hallway. “Then we need not worry for Henry.”
“Thank you,” Robert replied gratefully. He followed his mother inside and she shut the door.
“Now, son,” she said, turning to him. “I have decided that I must demand something of you. I must demand that you ask Lord Bardwell for permission to court Marina. You’ve been dithering, and...”
“Mama! Please,” he began, feeling his heart leap. He had picked the exact right moment—or the exact wrong one, he was not sure. “I must demand something of you first. I must demand that you listen. Please. This is important. Marina is not suitable. She is too young and too—well—too self-interested to be a suitable mother for Henry.”
“She is socially acceptable and well-versed in etiquette. She is a very suitable mother for Henry,” his mother countered, her eyebrows shooting up with affronted surprise.
“Henry is a seven-year-old,” Robert began, trying to hold onto his temper. “It will be many, many years before he needs lessons in etiquette, and then, if he needs them, I think I can be the one to give them to him,” he stated with a little offended pride.
“You don’t seem to have grasped the rudiments, given what I saw you doing the previous night,” his mother shot back. “Which is exactly why I must demand this of you. It is the only way to undo any scandal you might have created. If you make the announcement, then anything that anybody saw will be forgotten.”
