“Yes, so you say, but is that reality or a temporary state that fades over time?”
“I would certainly hope the former, but my experience is not vast. All I can truly speak about is the joy of affection … and the pain of separation.”
“Oh, Cora. I am a selfish creature. I have not asked how you are doing. I’m sure we will hear from Shelley soon about Mr. Granger.”
Cora nodded. “Yes, it shouldn’t be long now.” She smiled wistfully.
Lydia picked up her cards, placing two facedown in the middle of the table. Her thoughts returned to Barley and their last discussion—a discussion about his new curricle, a need for horses, and that blasted marriage contract. She had yet to inform Barley about her … their new timetable. He might not be as pleased as he would have been a few weeks ago—before he had started spending her money.
What to do? A quandary without a doubt. And one that deserved careful consideration.
Unfortunately, that night, when she put her mind to the whole, Lydia made a most disconcerting discovery. Her reluctance to speak to Barley was born from the fact that she did not want to postpone their engagement; she wanted to cancel it entirely. Mavis Caudle came to mind as a peace offering between them, but would Barley wish to marry a young lady with an excellent lineage but no dowry? And what should come first, the break or the encouragement?
Lydia spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering what the family, and more important, what her father, would think of such a turn of events. Was she right to change her plans for the future based on a few heady emotions when looking into a handsome young man’s eyes? Was it the discovery that a romantic inclination could find a home in her person, after all, or was her reluctance to marry Barley a result of her feelings for Robert, and for him alone? Was she being charmed by romance, or Robert?
Equally important: How did Robert feel about her?
If she broke with Barley and Robert’s affections didn’t amount to more than friendship, would she regret tossing her father’s wishes aside? There would be no going back. It might lead to strained relations between the estates … for the rest of their days.
There seemed to be no answers—only an ocean of questions.
Exhausted, after hours of sleeplessness and no conclusions, Lydia turned her thoughts away from Barley and the prospect of their engagement. She chose one subject that she knew would bring contentment—one that, when examined on its own, brought a smile to her lips and serenity to her heart.
That subject was the charming Mr. Robert Newton, his laughter, his wit, his broad shoulders, and his fascinating eyes … and with that she fell asleep.
Chapter 16
In which a nonexistent dustup sends Mr. Newton rushing back to Roseberry
Without any evidence of charm, Mr. Robert Newton jumped to his feet. “What?” he shouted, acute surprise adding to the volume of his word. He shook the letter in front of him as if in doing so he were shaking the author … or rather the subject of which the author spoke.
“Yes, hmm. What?” Mr. Lynch’s voice drifted in from the other room. The door between their offices stood open to the firm’s entry.
Robert leaned across the threshold, nodded to the startled gentleman who sat at Robert’s former desk, and called back to his mentor. “Nothing to worry about, Mr. Lynch.” Then, looking down at the paper still in his hands, he added, “Though I must return to Roseberry Hall for a few days; there has been another dustup.” Though not a true definition of the circumstances outlined in the letter, Robert was not about to offer a clearer explanation.
“Very good,” the old man called back cheerfully.
Robert was fairly certain Mr. Lynch had not heard him properly.
Turning back to his desk, Robert nodded with satisfaction. Yes, he could, indeed, leave the firm without fear of its falling apart. Over the past ten days, Robert had worked hard to clear his desk of all pending files, preparing to begin his apprenticeship. He had taken over the spare office and hired a new clerk. Rather than grab a young man intent on a career in the law, Robert had secured the services of a retired lieutenant who had helped keep a general in order.
The end of the Napoleonic Wars had seen many a good man sell out of the army. Robert had taken full advantage of that glut, interviewing upward of twenty former soldiers. Mr. Cargoff was proving to be a most excellent choice.
Picking up the few allotted files that required signatures, Robert dropped them in front of Mr. Cargoff. He reviewed them quickly with the gentleman, asking that he make a few inquiries, as well as obtain the necessary signatures. He left the firm confident that all was in hand—much more confident than he had been on his departure before Cassidy’s duel.
It was too late in the day to start off immediately, though a quick stop at Templeton Stables assured him a horse first thing in the morning. Robert rushed home to pack. This time he included a dress coat in his satchel. He would see to this nonsense and remain at Roseberry until he was convinced of Lydia’s safety.… And he would be dressed appropriately for dinner while doing so.
*
The morning dawned gray and damp. As the journey continued, it became grayer and damper until, at the time of his arrival at Roseberry Hall, Robert was caught in a torrential downpour. After Hugh had taken away Robert’s satchel and sodden greatcoat, Shodster led him to the morning room, where the family was still at breakfast.
While Robert appreciated the gesture, this acknowledgment of his intimacy with the family, he was acutely aware of his bedraggled state—and that he could not explain the true purpose of his arrival in front of everyone. A quick glance told him that Lydia was safe and sound—though grinning somewhat broadly—so he proceeded to ignore her.
“Mr. Newton, what a pleasure. I hope you are well?” Mrs. Whitfield gestured for a chair to be added to the table as she spoke.
A niche was found for him next to Miss Elaine, who seemed to be suffering her usual eye affliction—batting and blinking—while leaning in closer and closer until Robert feared she might tumble from her chair. Robert did his best to keep his gaze away from Lydia—he would not be distracted by her loveliness; he would not be distracted by her bright smile; he would not be distracted away from his anger and frustration. No, she would feel the full force of his temper as soon as they were alone … as long as he didn’t look at her.
“So nice to see you again.” Mrs. Kemble waved at her daughter. “Get Mr. Newton something to eat, Elaine. He must be fairly starving after his journey.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Miss Kemble touched his arm. “You must have suffered dreadfully. I will be your savior.” She jumped up and began piling a plate with eggs, ham, kippers, and toast from the sideboard.