Dorian smiled, his olive branch accepted. Something in the room’s atmosphere had subtly changed and lightened during this exchange. They might not be friends but at least Edwin no longer regarded him as the enemy.
“I shall write to Sir Edmund tomorrow,” he confirmed and looked to Rose, who was also smiling, although blushing slightly at the same time.
She was happy to see her husband getting along with her family, he supposed, but the talk of children likely made her self-conscious.Had Rose worked out where they came from yet…?That thought also made him smile. Surely, with the help of Ravenhill library’s extensive collection of erotica, even the most innocent young maiden would grasp the facts of life?
“What shall we do after luncheon?” Magnus asked the group. “You must go upstairs and see Father, of course. After that, wehad hoped to take a walk around the gardens but the weather is atrocious. Listen to that rain!”
“The weather is a shame,” Rose piped up. “I would have like to stretch my legs. Long carriage rides always make me so restless.”
“We could play cards,” Edwin suggested but Magnus pulled a face and Rose seemed to copy him.
“You always want to play cards, Edwin,” the younger man grumbled. “It’s all very well in the evening at a club, but at home in the afternoons, it’s only sport for elderly spinsters and people with no energy or conversation.”
Rose giggled at this and shared a grin with Magnus.
“Well, why don’t you suggest something else then?” Edwin said witheringly. “It’s all very well to find fault with my ideas when you put forward none of your own, Magnus.”
“Charades?” suggested the younger man.
“I hate charades,” stated Edwin flatly but in a tone that everyone seemed to know was not to be taken too seriously. “I suppose that is why you always suggest it first.”
“Magnus didn’t suggest charades first,” Rose pointed out, joining her second brother’s side. “He wanted us to take a walk but the weather is too bad.”
As the siblings continued to bicker together, Dorian watched them with interest.
The Duke of Ravenhill had been an only child and of very little interest to either of his parents, beyond the mere fact of his existence and accomplishments. It pleased them that he was handsome and clever and could hold his own in conversation with adults, but beyond summoning him from the nursery to show off before friends, his parents gave him no real family life at all.
They had been too occupied in loving one another, hating one another and alternately punishing themselves or their spouse for deficiencies that both of them possessed. Each of them had taken a string of lovers and Dorian well remembered strange ladies and gentlemen being smuggled in and out of the house, or sometimes openly flaunted. The latter often provoked screaming rows and the throwing of vases…
It would have been better if his parents had entirely loved one another or entirely hated one another. They might then have had some peace and happiness, either together or apart. As it was, there was only chaos and unpredictable arguments that young Dorian learned to step back from and regard with dispassion.
He had never allowed himself to feel any emotion to such an extreme and never wished to do so. Friendship, adult understanding and purely sexual passion were so much simpler and more civilized.
“They are usually like this, I’m afraid,” commented the Duchess of Westvale apologetically, breaking in on Dorian’s unusual introspection. “Magnus and Rose do gang up together on their older brother, but Edwin has actually always preferred it that way. He was never a boy to bully younger children.”
“They all look happy enough to me,” Dorian reflected, smiling back at the slender dark-haired woman and following her informal tone. "I am sure that you and the Duke of Westvale raised all your children to understand fairness and reason.”
Eugenia Williams laughed.
“I hope we did,” she replied. “How strange it must be for you though, having no family to speak of, and now walking into this. No wonder you were staring. I trust their verbal tussling does not make you uncomfortable.”
The Duke of Ravenhill shook his head and realized he had let down his guard in letting the Duchess of Westvale see his fascination.
“I am glad to see Rose happy,” he told the duchess. “However, I plan to agree with whatever plan for the afternoon those three decide, and not interfere.”
“Hoop-a-Hook!” exclaimed Magnus, coming to some conclusion in the back and forth with Edwin. “Yes, we must play Hoop-a-Hook!”
“Hoop-a-Hook!” Rose echoed with enthusiasm. “Oh, do say yes, Edwin. We haven’t played it for an age.”
The plates now cleared, they all stood up from the table.
“Oh, very well, if neither of you have any care for dignity before the Duke of Ravenhill,” assented Lord Carradon, throwing down his napkin with a groan. “Mother and I can watch you from a safe distance.”
Dorian laughed and shook his head.
“I am always ready to learn new games. What on earth is Hoop-a-Hook?”
“It was a game we always played in winter when it was too cold or wet to be outside,” Rose explained with shining eyes. “There is a large board in the cupboard of the games room next to the conservatory. It is fixed with hooks of every shape and size and comes with a collection of colored hoops to throw onto them.”
