Elisabeth Kidd (22 page)

Robert had said very little during all this, but still managed to stay close to Sabina so that she was continually aware of his presence, even if she turned her back to him. She considered Fletcher’s hurried apology. Could he have meant that this dinner party had been organized solely for her benefit? But she was unable to sort this out in her mind, for someone, usually Dulcie or Georgina, insisted on drawing her into the general conversation, and even her monosyllabic answers failed to persuade them to let her fade into the background.

When Robert Ashton offered his arm to lead her into the dining room, she hesitated, but as Dulcie and Henry were standing behind them at the door, almost as if prepared to push them through, she laid her hand lightly on his sleeve and marched ahead, head held high.

As he pulled out her chair for her to be seated at the dining table, Robert leaned over and whispered, “You look lovely tonight, Sabina.”

She could scarcely jump up and run away at just that juncture without upsetting furniture and physically pushing him out of the way, and she therefore simply sat down and pretended not to hear him. He smiled and took his place beside her. At least, she thought, she would not have to look at him.

The cook, told that Lord Kimborough employed a French chef, outdid himself in preparing a “proper English dinner”—according to
The Experienced English Housekeeper
—consisting of the requisite number of courses, including covers and removes in the correct order and placing of service. Lady Bromleigh had insisted, for reasons she did not deign to explain, that the interval between courses was to be kept to the absolute minimum, with the result that extra staff were employed to see that the table was cleared with dispatch between the fish course—including a lemon sole with ground almonds, a raised giblet pie, and a fricando of veal—and the second course, during which the cook presented his own masterpiece, a roast haunch of venison with new potatoes and glazed carrots.

Conversation throughout dinner was somewhat strained, no one daring to raise any topic which might inadvertently exacerbate the antagonisms between the families. Yet, as no one was precisely sure what topics might result in heated words, even neutral subjects such as the weather or the price of wool were broached gingerly.

Even so, Sabina had the impression that all the Bromleys were making a special effort to maintain the civilities and wondered if they had made a united decision to do so. They would be only carrying out the late earl’s unspoken request for them to resolve The Quarrel, of course, but Sabina was divided between admiration for her family, chagrin at her own past behavior, and confusion as to Robert’s motives in appearing here, as if by slight-of-hand, when he should have been in London. She made an extra effort to smile at Lord and Lady Kimborough, if not actually speak to them, attempting to distract herself by this means from speculation as to Robert’s intentions.

Only Georgina managed to inject some enthusiasm into the conversation while avoiding or, if she could not, deftly dismissing any sensitive topic.

“Try as I may, I
cannot
persuade my papa to take an interest in riding, or indeed in any country matter,” Georgina said, appealing with her expressive eyes to Lady Kimborough’s elusive sympathy. “It is very well to be bookish, I tell him, but if he is going to bury himself in his library, the library may as well be in the country, where at least the air is fresh and does not deposit soot on the books. Do you have a library at the Abbey, Lord Kimborough?”

Richard, considerably taken by this vivacious girl, the likes of whom he did not recall ever seeing in his part of the country before, replied that he did.

“Quite an excellent one, I am given to understand,” he replied, “although I must confess that I am not particularly bookish myself. Would you care to see our library at the Abbey, Miss Campion? I should be pleased to show you around myself any day you care to come.”

Georgina, catching Lady Kimborough’s baleful eye on her husband, even if he was too dazzled to notice it himself, said, “Why, I thank you, sir—if Lady Kimborough does not object, I should be pleased to call.”

The countess murmured her less than heartfelt consent, and Robert joined in to counteract the damper he had feared Lavinia might put on the entire evening if she were not kept in line—discreetly, of course, as Richard had requested before they set out for the evening’s entertainment.

“Do you not read even Lord Byron, Miss Campion?” Robert asked. “I thought all young ladies swooned over his lordship’s poetry.”

“I confess to having read
Childe Harold
,” Georgina said, turning towards him, “and even enjoying it. But
swoon
I will not. I hope I have more sense.”

“Our Georgina is awake on all suits,” Henry offered, at which Georgina pulled a face behind her napkin.

Randolph then treated the company to a rude, but amusing, literary review of
Glenarvon
, which had rapidly made the rounds of the family. This opened the way for Lady Kimborough to expound her views on the entire Devonshire dynasty, as well as their extensive legitimate and less than legal connections, comparing them, as appeared to be her custom, to the paragons of virtue whom she could claim as ancestors.

“At least she is discreet enough to blacken the names only of people with whom no one here has any direct connection,” Robert whispered to Sabina.

“How does she know none of us does?”

“Lavinia’s principal amusement is to know anyone of any breeding or importance at all, or at least know
of
them. If you do come to see our library, you will find that books of genealogy dominate the collection.”

“Your brother invited Georgina.”

“I trust she would not come alone.”

“Would she require a chaperone?”

“Certainly not. Richard finds your cousin delightful, I’m sure, but he is not stupid. He wishes to make peace too, believe me.”

“Why?”

“Why believe me? Some people do, you know.”

“I meant, why does he wish to make peace?”

“Because I have asked him to make the attempt.”

That silenced Sabina temporarily. She had intended to treat Robert as if she had lost her memory again—at least about their time together on the canal—and converse with him only as a passing acquaintance with whom she was obliged for the sake of the family to be civil. Such indifference was impossible to maintain, however, so she contrived instead to speak as little as possible.

But he was not to be put off. On his enquiring if she had quite recovered from her accident, she disclaimed any lingering effects other than an occasional headache—a fabrication which she hoped pettishly would make him feel his part in her distress more keenly. However, he appeared unabashed and proceeded to enquire about her horse.

“He found his way home quite unharmed,” she replied, aware that he was being ironic and wishing he would be candid with his criticisms; she was not very tolerant of subtlety of this sort. She was accustomed to it in Randolph, of course, but then he had never directed his barbs at her.

“Do you remember the lockkeeper’s cottage?” he said then, under cover of a lively exchange between Lewis and Georgina about the relative merits of the assemblies at the local towns and those at Leicester.

“No,” Sabina said bluntly.

“I expect it will come back to you,” he replied amiably. “Bill and George have finished the repairs and they have all moved in—although Bill still sleeps on the boat in any but the foulest weather. He claims that he cannot reaccustom himself to sleeping under a roof. In Spain, you know, when we had a roof over our billet, it was as often as not full of cannon holes.”

Sabina wished she could ask him more about his life in the army—indeed, all of his life before he met her. She still longed, much against her will, to know everything about him, yet she dared not ask any personal questions, lest he feel he had touched her in some way. He must know he had taken control of her heart, but she could not bring herself to acknowledge it, just as she was reluctant to acknowledge that it was only she who forced their conversation into such unnatural lines.

There was silence between them as the sweet dishes were passed, until, over an excellent syllabub, she asked, to break the silence but keep to neutral topics, “Did you fight at Badajoz? A cousin of ours wrote to us just after the siege and was most vivid in his description.”

“Regrettably, I was not present, there being little use for the cavalry under the circumstances. At the time, we were still in the north, although we saw action soon enough at Fuentes de Oñoro.”

She was reminded then of his friends whom she had seen at the Ashtonbury fête and nearly betrayed herself into asking after them. It seemed there was no way to avoid intimacy with him, short of refusing to speak with him at all.

Indeed, despite her determination to remain aloof and not even meet his eyes, his mere presence beside her overwhelmed her senses. When he moved slightly, she caught a whiff of the same soap he had used on the canal. When she reached for her wine glass, her arm brushed his sleeve. He was far too lively a presence for comfort, and she breathed a sigh of relief when, seemingly hours later, Alicia signaled for the ladies to rise and leave the gentleman to their brandy. At least she would have a few minutes’ respite.

She looked back at him as she left the room. He had risen, as had the other men, and she could not help admiring the graceful way he moved and the breadth of his shoulders beneath his well-tailored coat. For the first time it occurred to her how naturally he seemed to fit, except for his fair hair, into a group consisting principally of her tall, handsome brothers.

Somehow, this notion was even more unsettling than the attraction she still felt for him.

Chapter 15

Sabina was astonished to learn afterwards that the atmosphere in the dining room after the ladies had departed was even more charged with unspoken animosity than the area immediately surrounding her chair during the meal. Indeed, although conversation among the ladies had been desultory, Lady Kimborough offering monosyllabic contributions only when directly addressed, among the gentlemen not all the recriminations remained unspoken.

Robert had the impression that Earl Bromleigh wished for a private word with him but was constrained from achieving it by the necessity of keeping a tight rein on everyone else’s temper. Indeed, Fletcher had just moved himself to the chair beside Robert’s when Richard remarked on the fine quality of the Bromleys’ brandy.

“Is it by any chance smuggled?” he asked offhandedly, holding his glass up to the light. “I should like to know how to contact your supplier.”

Four Bromley heads turned toward Richard, whom his brother had to admire for his temerity. It was unlikely that any remark of his would precipitate a bout of fisticuffs among this company, but he was outnumbered four to one. He certainly could not count on his brother’s support if he took a sudden turn to the obstreperous. Robert made up his mind at that moment to maintain a strict neutrality.

“The war is over, Richard,” he remarked mildly. “There is no longer any need for anyone to resort to contraband spirits, however appealing they may once have been as a slap in Bonaparte’s face.”

Richard admired the color of the wine in his glass, then sipped it appreciatively. “Why no, there is no necessity any longer, but one keeps wine in one’s cellar for years sometimes. Just as one protects any other family treasure.”

“If there is something you wish to accuse us of,” Randolph said testily, “be so good as to come out with it so that we may show you the error of your thinking and proceed to a more amiable topic of conversation. You did come here to be amiable, did you not?”

Richard smiled. He had a charming smile when he chose to use it, Robert noticed, wondering if Lavinia had put him up to this. “I meant nothing by my remark, I assure you. I beg your pardon if my phraseology was—er, awkward.”

Fletcher had by this time risen and quietly removed himself to a seat between Richard and Randolph.

“Will you be riding with the local hunt this autumn or organizing your own?” Fletcher asked his guest, as if hunting had been the topic of conversation all along. “We might perhaps join forces at some point.”

“And hope there may be safety in numbers,” Henry murmured. As he was seated directly opposite, Robert reached out one long leg and kicked him in the shin to silence him. Henry, surprised, looked at Robert, then shrugged and smiled, accepting the rebuke.

Fletcher contrived to keep the conversation on hunting for several minutes, during which the tension in the room eased somewhat and talk became more general. When pressed, Randolph offered his opinion of the hunting to be had around Stonehaven as compared to Melton Mowbray and other of the more celebrated hunts. Even Robert ventured a remark or two, although Henry confined himself to nods of agreement and the occasional “quite right” or “hear, hear.”

It was only when Fletcher suggested that they rejoin the ladies that tempers suddenly flared again. Henry, attempting to catch Randolph’s attention as they moved toward the door, chanced to jostle Richard, who stepped out of the way but refrained from expressing any verbal reproach to Henry, who finally said, curtly, “Beg your pardon.”

“And how is your wife keeping?” Richard asked, continuing to glare. “She is well, I trust?”

“Very well,” Henry replied, glaring back. “Thriving, in fact.”

“So I observed over dinner. She must be a great satisfaction to you.”

“As Lady Kimborough is no doubt to you,” Henry returned.

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

“Why, what should I mean? Did you not refer to the fact that I am happy in my marriage? I only hoped that you enjoy the same happy situation.”

Richard had got himself in over his head, Robert saw. His brother had never been subtle in the way of verbal expression, preferring even as a boy to get his way by pulling rank. Or putting up his fists. He stepped forward to interrupt any possible outbreak of either, but was forestalled by Lewis, who deftly wheeled his chair between Richard and Henry and looked up at them like a second in a duel determined to effect a last-minute reconciliation.