Elisabeth Kidd by The Rival Earls Page B

to fob Lady Brendel off with vague assurances that he would consider her kind invitation, and he only smiled noncommittally. The ladies appeared to be as one in deciding that there was nothing to be gained by pursuing the subject further at this time, but Robert knew he had not heard the last of it.
    The conversation turned to other topics, and Mr. Jennings obligingly resumed his observations, which were innumerable, so that Robert was allowed to finish his meal in silence. The dinner ceremony concluded with a crème plombières praliné, which Mr. Jennings disposed of with his usual dispatch. Lady Brendel, declaring that she never ate sweets, ate hers anyway. Lavinia picked up her fork, but did not touch it, and Mr. Jennings eyed her plate covetously. Robert quietly signaled a footman, who brought Mr. Jennings a second helping.
    He must, Robert thought, write to Dulcie Bromley this very evening to learn how Sabina’s return had been received by her family and whether her attitude towards him had softened in the least. If it had, he would approach her, apologize again, and attempt to start afresh. If not—well, he would find another way. He would not give up.
    “We had given him up for dead after all that time,” Lady Brendel was saying. This succeeded in penetrating Robert’s reverie, and he wondered if they could possibly be talking about him again. It seemed not, however.
    “He turned up after the battle of Victoria—is that right, Robert?”
    “Vitoria.”
    Lady Brendel appeared not to hear the distinction and went on, “Yes, and in perfect health, although it appeared he had lost his memory and was laid up in a field hospital for weeks before someone was able to identify him.”
    Robert shook his head slightly to clear it. It must be only coincidence that they were speaking of a loss of memory. Or perhaps he had heard incorrectly. He must stop brooding on what had happened or he would begin hearing things. He was more used to taking action.
    But it seemed that the ladies were taking action of their own, however indirect. Having engaged his attention again, Lady Brendel enquired of her daughter if the gentleman in question was not the same Captain Tennison who had married Salford’s eldest daughter, the one whose hair was never properly dressed but who had a very fine, clear complexion.
    “Indeed, yes, and a most eligible connection it was. I believe she is already increasing with her second.”
    Robert was aware of Lavinia’s views of marriage, an institution which she considered necessary for the propagation of a solid bloodline and nothing more. She was aware that her contribution to her own marriage was superior in the matter of pedigree to her husband’s—at least in her view—but she did not hold that against him, feeling that the combination of their inheritable traits was a happy one and was alone responsible for the good health, pleasing looks, and observable intelligence of her male progeny. It naturally followed that her brother-in-law should also make such an alliance, and had she been brought to understand that he intended to marry only for love, she would have pitied him.
    Robert wondered idly about Sabina’s views on love matches. Did she envy George and Rose Theak, as he did? Did she believe in life-long fidelity? He knew for a fact that, having produced two male children, Lavinia had no further interest in the marriage bed and that Richard was less distressed than relieved by this attitude. He also believed, although he did not know for a fact, that Richard still harbored a tendre for Dulcie Bromley, for he had chosen a mistress—a discreet lady whom he had set up in an impressive mansion near Rugby—who was the image of his former fiancée.
    Robert had thus far avoided discussing the terms of Earl Bromleigh’s will with his brother, but he knew that he must do so quickly, for it would be bound to become common knowledge before very much longer. Therefore, when the ladies had left the