Lady Roma's Romance (17 page)

“So you see, I’m at quite a loss to know what to do.” Roma finished speaking and took a sip of her tea, now cold and bitter.

Lady Brownlow sat back, her corset creaking. “I’m simply agog,” she said. ‘To think that love should find your father once more! Well, while there’s life, there’s hope, they say. You did say it wasn’t that very young girl I met last evening?”

“No. Her eldest sister.”

“Good. There’s something displeasing about a too-great disparity in age. But a nice girl of about thirty will do very well for Lord Yarborough, if I may presume to say so.”

“
Yes
,
I think so, too. I have not had private speech with her, but she seems very quiet, rather shy, and desperately in love, though it is a trifle hard for me to imagine anyone feeling that way about my father. He’s a dear man, do not mistake me,” she added hurriedly.

“We never can see our families as others do. My own husband, to take the opposite side, was to me a paragon. Yet
how did he appear to others? Plump, red-faced, and loud.”

“No,” Roma said seriously. “He was the kindest of men. Elliot was so fond of him.”

Lady Brownlow nodded, though without the tears that usually came to her eyes when speaking of her lost son. “However, even the best of men can be neglectful. Do you think your father has given any thought to your position if and when he remarries?”

“I can’t begin to guess. He said nothing to me when he told me of it last night.”

“No doubt he thinks you may all three live together as peaceably as lambs in a field, but of course it won’t do. No matter how sweet her temper, no bride should be expected to share her new home. You, my love, would cause her no trouble, I’m sure, but she would be worried every moment that you would encroach or command. I lived with my mother-in-law when I was first married; I do not recommend it.”

“Was she such a Tartar?”

“Oh, my dear, I could not call my soul my own. She had this habit of rapping upon a door and entering hard upon it, without so much as an ‘enter’ being called. I took to locking my door which gave great trouble to the servants.”

“I am more than willing to give my father and stepmother all the privacy they need. But even at Yarborough Hall, large as it is, I fear it will not be large enough. I don’t wish to encroach upon her rights or continue with those duties that are more properly her own. In truth, I do not wish to live with them at all. But what else am I to do?”

“Say no more, my sweetest life,” Lady Brownlow said, patting Roma’s folded hands. “You must come and live with me.”

Roma smiled with great love upon this dear woman. “That is most kind in you, Mother Brownlow, but it’s quite impossible.”

“You won’t be any burden. Why, you shan’t turn a hand over if it doesn’t please you. You may be used to grander places, but I know you too well to think you’d care for that.”

“Compared with where I spent my summer, this home is a palace from an Arabian fairy story. But...”

“And you needn’t mind Bret. He isn’t staying, more’s the pity.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Roma said, relieved that his name had come up without her introducing it. “He was only supposed to stay a short while.”

“It’s these foolish legal matters. He’s gone this very morning to visit the magistrate or clerk or
someone
at the court. He explained it to me, but I grow so muddled over these sorts of things. Delby used to manage so beautifully. It must be one of those affairs best left to gentlemen, don’t you agree? A woman has her sphere, I say, and let her keep to it.”

Roma admitted to herself that she was tempted by Lady Brownlow’s offer. In three months, in one if all things fell into place, she could have this house running both economically and efficiently. Bills would be paid on the nail instead of whenever Lady Brownlow excavated the deeper recesses of her gimcrack desk. Her comfort, mental and physical, would be Roma’s first concern. Troubles would be dealt with before they ever reached Lady Brownlow’s ears. Eventually, if Bret looked upon her with gratitude, her own wishes might come to fruition without so great a risk.

But no. She would not use underhanded ways even to obtain what she wanted most. She would march straight to her goal, even if it meant losing.

“As long as we are speaking of Bret... I mean, Mr. Donovan.”

“He wouldn’t mind you calling him by his name, Roma. He was saying just yesterday—or was it the day before? Yes, it was yesterday because those beautiful flowers you sent came. However did you know I was going to wear the lilac silk last night, you clever girl?”

“Did Mr. Donovan say something about me?” Roma asked, having waited with difficulty through this discourse.

“I never thought I’d hear him speak so well of a woman. You know, he had a sad disappointment, and we were so afraid that it would spoil his disposition. He was the dearest little boy, you know. So trusting. Really, when you see the troubles a grasping, heartless girl can make for a boy, it makes you despair of your entire sex.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, his language was most temperate, considering the circumstances. He hardly swore at all. And as Delby said, Bret wasn’t the first to have his heart broken by such a girl, and he won’t be the last, more’s the pity. And, of course, she was our neighbor’s girl, so, of course, we had to cut the connection,”

“No, dear Mother Brownlow. What did Bret—Mr. Donovan—say about me?”

“Oh, oh ...” She laughed a little, raising her hands. “I’m sorry. Of course. He said that he thought no one could have a more faithful friend than you. I told him that he was quite right about that! Just like a daughter, I’ve told him time and again. Or ... a niece?”

Lady Brownlow looked at Roma birdlike, exactly as if she were asking for a treat held teasingly just out of reach. “But tell me, what do you think of him? Forget I’m anything to him and just blurt out your thoughts.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Roma said, though she feared her cheeks were heated. “I am not so well acquainted with him as I should like to be.”

“Ah-ha,” Lady Brownlow said, pouncing on this admission. “You must think well of him.”

“It would be difficult to think other than well of him. He is one of the pleasantest men I have ever met.”

“Pish-tosh.” Lady Brownlow’s round face took on a resemblance to a fretful baby. “Pleasant. What’s that? I’d rather hear you think he’s frightfully rude, or harsh, or that you don’t think of him at all.”

“Why on earth ... ?” Roma asked, staring at her.

“A girl halfway to being in love never thinks the man is ‘pleasant.’ Did you think Elliot was?”

“Elliot was always a most thoughtful and attentive fiancé.”

“But that’s how he treated me,” his mother said impatiently. “Didn’t he thrill you? Appall you? Anything of that sort?” Seeing Roma’s blank expression, she shook her head. “Perhaps times have changed. When I first met Delby, I thought he was dreadfully uncivilized and didn’t wish to have anything further to do with him. He was unrefined, I suppose. Why, he told me he would marry me one day that very first meeting. But he had such energy, such an unusual point of view, that I couldn’t help being drawn to him despite myself. You feel nothing like that for Bret either?”

Roma opened her mouth to speak, but the words dried on her lips. The odd connection she felt to Bret seemed to have nothing in common with other women’s notions of love. “We are rather wandering from the point, aren’t we? I am not in search of a lover but of a husband.”

“A bed is cold if a husband isn’t a lover, too.”

Now she knew she was blushing. “No doubt love will come after marriage begins.”

“That’s what parents used to say when I was a girl. I’m not sure they were ever right. So many of my friends married for good and sensible reasons. But whether you love Bret or not, you could do very much worse, you know.”

“Yes, I know. To be truthful, I would rather marry for good and sensible reasons than tumble head over ears into love. Besides, I doubt I was made for such romance. I am too proud.”

“Bret’s proud, too. Proud as the Duke of Somerset, as my father used to say.”

“What are his prospects, Mother Brownlow?” Roma asked boldly.

“Who? Oh, Bret’s. Not good. Not at all good. He won’t accept help from his friends or his relations. I don’t know what his plans are. He only makes a light answer when I ask. He sat right where you are and told me he had only three talents.”

“What are they?” Roma wondered if he had some hidden gifts that might help him to a suitable career. She wondered if he’d be interested in taking a seat in the House of Commons like his friend Mr. Morningstreet. Her mind turned to Dina, and she lost the thread of her conversation as she worried that her cousin might create an irrevocable scandal.

“Oh, he was joking again, of course. I wish they’d made him a lawyer. Is it too late for him to do whatever it is one does to become a lawyer? I suppose one has to start very young.”

“I beg your pardon; I’m afraid I was thinking of something else. Do you think Bret would be interested in standing for Parliament? Though we are not ourselves a political family, my father has so many acquaintances among the antiquity-minded nobility that I’m sure we could find someone to back him. Also, I believe my mother’s second cousin was something in politics. I think he’s acquainted with Charles James Fox.”

“Oh, yes, and you’d be such a clever hostess that someone important would be bound to notice him. I wonder if he’s ever considered it.”

“You are taking too much for granted,” Roma said, climbing down from this flight of fancy. “Unless you know your nephew’s politics, we cannot say what would be of use to him and what would not. Furthermore, I never said I would be his hostess.”

“You
cannot blame me for giving my fancy free rein. If I cannot see you married to my son, why not to my nephew? It would keep you in the family which I should like above all things.”

“So should I,” Roma said, rising to bestow a kiss upon Lady Brownlow’s peach-soft cheek. “But of course, it’s utterly impossible. He’d never consider even asking me.”

“What’s impossible?” Bret said, appearing in the doorway. “And who wouldn’t ask who what?”

Roma gave the slightest shake of her head when Lady Brownlow opened her mouth to speak. The older lady rolled her eyes in a very juvenile fashion but kept her tongue between her teeth. “Nothing of importance,” Roma said, turning about.

He looked atrociously well rested and healthy as he stepped into the room, coming forward to salute his aunt. Whoever had lain awake half the night hadn’t been him. The merriment in his eyes was contagious. Roma felt better just for having seen him, and that, surely, was a dangerous sign.

“Good news, darling,” he said, drawling a bit so that his faint Irish intonation came through more clearly. “They say that you may yet make a recovery of your stolen property. Your felonious friend, Mr. Household, was stopped at a little fishing port in Cornwall, of all places. Where the devil he thought he was going, I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“Oh, dear,” Lady Brownlow said, distressed. “What will they do to the poor boy?”

“Aunt, you are a reminder to me not to be so vindictive. I didn’t care what they did with him so long as they recover your money. Once you confront him, he’ll be bound over for trial. With luck, he’ll be sent out to Van Diemen’s Land as a convict. It’s a healthy life, and he’ll do honest work there.”

“Transported? Oh, the poor boy. If I don’t make a complaint, he won’t be charged, will he?”

“He’s defrauded too many other people, Aunt. Let him go out there and find a new start. I’m half tempted to commit a crime myself. A nice sea voyage and a new life at the end of it sounds like a tonic at the moment.”

Roma looked more closely at him and saw that his bright eyes were slightly sunken and his voice held a slight roughness. “Are you quite well?” she asked.

Lady Brownlow leapt on this. “What? Are you sick? What is it? The grippe? The ague? Mr. Bennet has the ague so bad his wife says he can hardly bear her walking across the floor. Come here and let me feel your forehead.”

As Bret bent to submit, he cast a doleful yet laughing look at Roma. She felt sorry that she’d said anything to set Lady Brownlow off but at the same time was pleased that someone was attending to his health.

“I’m perfectly well,” he protested, when Lady Brownlow proclaimed that he felt too warm and should have a dose.

“I’d better go,” Roma said, looking for her reticule and disposing her silk-wool wrap over her elbows.

“Wait. I’ll go with you. Where are you going?”

“I promised to make a call on my cousin, Mrs. Derwent.”

Roma realized that she’d begun to understand what Bret thought merely by looking at him. She’d never had that experience with anyone else. Now she knew he was thinking of last evening, their previous walk to Dina’s house, and, as well, the faintest memory of that moment ... those moments in the chapel... in short, that kiss.

Lady Brownlow’s brow wrinkled as she looked up into Roma’s face. “Now you are all flushed as well. I hope you don’t have a fever.”

“No, I’m only a trifle warm now with all this on. We will talk again, Mother Brownlow, and on the same subject.”

“If there’s time, my dear one. If there’s time.”

When Roma stepped out onto the landing, she took a deep breath of the crisp air. It felt so wonderful that she took another. Lady Brownlow’s reliance on anodynes and herbal remedies gave her favorite chamber a heavy medicinal smell. Going down the steps, she turned and waited for Bret. She laughed when she saw the tightly rolled umbrella in his hand.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” he said, coming toward her. He moved so well, his feet so light, that he almost seemed to be dancing. Roma couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes for fear that he would see as clearly as she how her feelings had changed. It wasn’t the fresh air or the sunshine that made her feel as though she could dance to his rhythm. Being with him again was enough to lighten her heart.

She recognized this feeling as dangerous but hardly cared. And that, she knew, was a greater danger sign yet.