Regency Society Collection Part 2. Ann Lethbridge

a flicker passed across his face at the sight of Robert. The man was imperturbable, as all dukes’ servants should be. ‘Lord Robert, good to see you again.’

      ‘Thank you, Grimshaw.’ He handed over his hat.

      ‘Her Grace is in the blue drawing room.’

      ‘I know the way. No need to announce me. I believe I am expected.’

      The butler bowed.

      Expected.

      How formal it sounded.

      But he was the black sheep. Not returning home, but merely paying a courtesy call. It hadn’t taken too many hours of staring into a brandy glass to realise he would not remain in England. Even if Frederica had gone to Italy, her face would haunt him in every field and wood. He might be tempted to follow her.

      Early this morning, he’d drafted a note declining his mother’s invitation, but in the end he hadn’t the heart to send it. So here he was, prepared for tears and admonishments and a final farewell.

      He stared at the drawing room door. Did he knock?

      Hell. She had called him her son.

      He turned the handle and walked in.

      As always she looked beautiful for her age. A little pale, a little sad, a little more fragile, but there was a welcome on her lips and in her eyes.

      ‘Mama.’ He started forwards.

      A movement jerked his gaze from his mother to a figure rising from a chair on the other side of the room.

      Father. Bile rose in his throat. He was not even to have this moment alone with his mother.

      He bowed and then met his father’s gaze. ‘Your Grace. Forgive me. I was unaware of your presence.’ Heartsick, he turned to leave.

      ‘Robert, wait.’ His father’s voice.

      He stilled. ‘My son. Please. I’m sorry.’

      Robert turned slowly. Never in his life had he heard his father retract his word or offer an apology. He darted a glance at Mother. Her face showed nothing.

      His father strode forwards, hand outstretched. ‘Can you forgive what I did?’ he asked. ‘Your mother cannot.’

      His father’s brown eyes pleaded. It was as far as he would go. Far further than Robert would ever have expected.

      He grasped the offered hand, felt its strength and its tremble. ‘Father.’ It was all he could manage without breaking down, without bringing shame on them both.

      Somehow he choked down the lump in his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Father. I should never have helped Charlie to join the army. It was wrong. I could not have borne it if he had come to any real harm.’

      Father’s eyes moistened. He raised a hand. ‘I know, my boy. I should not have blamed you. Charlie and I had a long talk. Youth believes itself invincible. I had forgotten. I’m glad you finally came home.’

      ‘Come here, Robert,’ Mother said. ‘Let me look at you.’

      He strode to stand in front of her and took both her hands in his and kissed them.

      ‘Oh, my son. I’ve missed you greatly. Sit down. I want to hear what you have been doing. Radthorn told me a little, but I gather you have been employed in the country?’

      He sat beside her on the sofa. She retained hold of his hand as if she feared he might run from the room as he had done so often as a boy.

      ‘Gamekeeping,’ he said with a wary look at Father who had taken the chair beside the hearth.

      ‘Learned a lot, did you?’ Father asked. He sounded eager.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘You always did like the land,’ Father said in satisfied tones.

      He’d noticed? Robert tried to hold his jaw in place. He wasn’t sure he succeeded from the knowing gleam in his father’s eye.

      ‘Your mother pointed it out,’ Father said, with a fond glance at his wife. ‘I should have realised. Lord knows there are enough estates to worry about.’

      Robert stiffened. ‘They go with the title.’ He turned to Mother. ‘I want nothing of Charlie’s.’

      ‘I know,’ she said, her grey eyes sorrowful.

      The tension inside him eased. He could almost feel her arms around his shoulders, the way he had as a boy when hurt by his father’s lack of interest. ‘I’m leaving for America,’ he announced, suddenly coming to a decision.

      ‘Why America?’ Father said. ‘We just lost a war with them. Go to Canada, my boy. I’ve some contacts there. I’ll give you letters of introduction.’

      Naturally Father would be glad to see his awkward complication gone. Or was he really trying to help? He swallowed the old bitterness and took the offer at face value. ‘Thank you, your Grace.’

      The clock in the hall chimed. ‘Good lord, is that the time?’ the duke said. ‘I’ll be late for the House.’

      Robert rose. ‘It was good to see you again, your Grace.’

      Father clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’ve done well, my boy. Surprised me.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But for your swift action, we might well have lost Charles.’

      This was the thanks Robert had wanted all those months ago. The recognition that he would never cause his brother harm and that he was just as important to his family as his brother. The anger clutching at his heart seeped away at the sight of his father’s distress. A hot lump of emotion scoured the back of his throat. He managed a nod.

      The duke smiled sadly at his wife. ‘Your mother believes Charles will come about now we have found you again.’ His grim face said he wasn’t quite sure.

      Robert glanced at his mother. ‘What is wrong with Charlie?’

      His mother sighed. ‘We have rarely seen him since your departure. And not heard a word from him since he left for Durn after New Years’ Day. He’ll come to his senses.’

      Father closed his eyes briefly. ‘I was wrong to try to drive a wedge between my sons. Dem me…’ He turned away, but not before Robert saw the moisture in the old man’s eyes. So the duke really did have a heart.

      His own felt a little less bruised. ‘It doesn’t matter, Father. You did what you thought was right. For the good of the family.’

      ‘Hmmph,’ said Mother.

      The duke kissed his wife’s hand and straightened his shoulders. ‘If you need that recommendation, let me know, but I’d be very happy if you decided to stay.’ He strode from the room, not quite as tall as Robert remembered. Not quite as self-assured.

      Her grace watched him go with a sad expression. ‘Pride is a difficult thing,’ she said softly. ‘It is so hard to go back.’

      ‘I’m grateful for your help,’ Robert said. ‘With Father. And Miss Bracewell. Though you should not have put yourself in such danger. If anything had happened to you…’

      His mother raised an elegant hand and lightly touched his cheek. ‘I haven’t had so much excitement in years. Her mother and I were friends, you know. I had a long talk with Miss Bracewell when John brought her here yesterday morning.’

      Robert frowned. ‘I don’t know what John thought he was about.’

      ‘Helping you. You always did command the respect of your peers, even if you never realised it. Poor John, he was devastated when he realised he’d practically cut you outside White’s. You have forgiven him, haven’t you?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Write to me from Canada, won’t you, dear, if you must go. I will miss you.’

      His