herself to public censure?
Robert found that this question begged an answer of its own.
Why was Ned spending so many of his evenings in their company? He never had been one to attend affairs at which the principle guests would be the season’s giggling debutantes—not since his disastrous first year on the town when he’d crossed the line too many times to count. Nor had he expressed an interest in any member of this year’s crop of ingenues. At least, as Robert recalled, Ned had not done much dancing, not above two or three sets in an evening, and always with different girls.
Instead, Ned spent most of his time at these affairs strolling about the rooms, stopping to speak to a friend every now and then, while his watchful gaze swept the crowd. If he indulged in a hand of cards, he was always certain to be back, scanning the ballroom again within half an hour.
The more Robert thought about Ned’s recent change in behavior, the more he thought it was deucedly odd.
“I say, Louisa,” he said, as she stepped into her evening gown. He had been sitting in the armchair in her dressing room, taking a few minutes of pleasure in watching her dress. “Are you absolutely certain that Ned has no interest in Christina at all?”
With a surprised tilt of her head, Louisa gave him an indulgent laugh. “Of course, I cannot be certain unless I ask him directly. And from what I understood, that subject was to be closed.
“Why do you ask?” his dearest wondered. “Have you noticed any signs that he is?”
Robert had no wish to encourage Louisa in this direction, so he temporized, “No, no. I was merely curious why he seems to have given up his usual entertainments to attend the same functions as we so very often.”
“Ahhhh, yes,” Louisa said, nodding with understanding now. “I suppose that should make you wonder. But, do you know, Robert dear, I think our friend Ned has grown rather weary of his style of life. Why else would he take such an interest in Robert Edward? And if he has formed an equal concern for Christina’s welfare—not that there is any need of course—why we should do nothing to discourage him. You know how many hazards society can pose to a young lady. Perhaps, Ned is merely exercising the paternal feelings he has no other way to indulge.”
Robert was not so certain. He couldn’t imagine any gentleman showing this much concern for his friend’s younger sister. Especially Ned.
He stood and paced. But all he said was, “I suppose you could be right.”
Louisa seemed to detect his uneasiness. “If you seriously doubt his intentions, I could always change my seating arrangement for this evening. I had intended to put Christina next to Ned. It is a logical placement with respect to rank, but I had chiefly designed that seating to avoid putting her next to Lord Wimbly. His hands are inclined to wander.”
“Wander?” Robert’s brows shot up. “Wander where?”
“Oh . . . “ Louisa’s manner became evasive. “Wherever he wants them to, I suppose.”
“You’ve never told me this about Wimbly! And I am positive you have been seated next to him a dozen times or more at dinner.”
His accusing stare made her pause. “My dear, if I informed you of the indelicate behavior of every gentleman I met, you would likely spend the rest of your life defending my honor. I should never again enjoy your company at dawn.”
Robert felt the blood draining from his face. “I never realized,” he said. And, here, he had been running after Christina, when his beloved wife had been repeatedly subject to insult. He would have to keep a closer eye on Louisa from now on.
“No, don’t move Ned,” he said, resigning himself to the inevitable need of Ned’s assistance. “I daresay he can be trusted.”
“Certainly he can.” Louisa joined him near the door. “I have no doubt of Ned’s good intentions. You may leave those to me.”
* * *
That evening, when Ned arrived at Broughton
Robert found that this question begged an answer of its own.
Why was Ned spending so many of his evenings in their company? He never had been one to attend affairs at which the principle guests would be the season’s giggling debutantes—not since his disastrous first year on the town when he’d crossed the line too many times to count. Nor had he expressed an interest in any member of this year’s crop of ingenues. At least, as Robert recalled, Ned had not done much dancing, not above two or three sets in an evening, and always with different girls.
Instead, Ned spent most of his time at these affairs strolling about the rooms, stopping to speak to a friend every now and then, while his watchful gaze swept the crowd. If he indulged in a hand of cards, he was always certain to be back, scanning the ballroom again within half an hour.
The more Robert thought about Ned’s recent change in behavior, the more he thought it was deucedly odd.
“I say, Louisa,” he said, as she stepped into her evening gown. He had been sitting in the armchair in her dressing room, taking a few minutes of pleasure in watching her dress. “Are you absolutely certain that Ned has no interest in Christina at all?”
With a surprised tilt of her head, Louisa gave him an indulgent laugh. “Of course, I cannot be certain unless I ask him directly. And from what I understood, that subject was to be closed.
“Why do you ask?” his dearest wondered. “Have you noticed any signs that he is?”
Robert had no wish to encourage Louisa in this direction, so he temporized, “No, no. I was merely curious why he seems to have given up his usual entertainments to attend the same functions as we so very often.”
“Ahhhh, yes,” Louisa said, nodding with understanding now. “I suppose that should make you wonder. But, do you know, Robert dear, I think our friend Ned has grown rather weary of his style of life. Why else would he take such an interest in Robert Edward? And if he has formed an equal concern for Christina’s welfare—not that there is any need of course—why we should do nothing to discourage him. You know how many hazards society can pose to a young lady. Perhaps, Ned is merely exercising the paternal feelings he has no other way to indulge.”
Robert was not so certain. He couldn’t imagine any gentleman showing this much concern for his friend’s younger sister. Especially Ned.
He stood and paced. But all he said was, “I suppose you could be right.”
Louisa seemed to detect his uneasiness. “If you seriously doubt his intentions, I could always change my seating arrangement for this evening. I had intended to put Christina next to Ned. It is a logical placement with respect to rank, but I had chiefly designed that seating to avoid putting her next to Lord Wimbly. His hands are inclined to wander.”
“Wander?” Robert’s brows shot up. “Wander where?”
“Oh . . . “ Louisa’s manner became evasive. “Wherever he wants them to, I suppose.”
“You’ve never told me this about Wimbly! And I am positive you have been seated next to him a dozen times or more at dinner.”
His accusing stare made her pause. “My dear, if I informed you of the indelicate behavior of every gentleman I met, you would likely spend the rest of your life defending my honor. I should never again enjoy your company at dawn.”
Robert felt the blood draining from his face. “I never realized,” he said. And, here, he had been running after Christina, when his beloved wife had been repeatedly subject to insult. He would have to keep a closer eye on Louisa from now on.
“No, don’t move Ned,” he said, resigning himself to the inevitable need of Ned’s assistance. “I daresay he can be trusted.”
“Certainly he can.” Louisa joined him near the door. “I have no doubt of Ned’s good intentions. You may leave those to me.”
* * *
That evening, when Ned arrived at Broughton
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