“Cousin, I wonder if I might impose upon you to discuss—” James starts, hoping perhaps this might be his chance to set the record straight.
But the carriage trundles through the redbrick arch of the Foundling Hospital’s courtyard, heading for the tall, three-story maternity wing before he can finish the thought.
MissBertram looks across the carriage, but James shakes his head, giving her a false easy smile. He would hardly know what to ask exactly, anyway.
They pull to a stop on the left side of the courtyard, where a cluster of children run about, playing games, tossing balls, and getting fresh air. Lady Gwen and MissBertram hop out before he can even think of helping them, not looking at each other. Lady Gwen heads straight for a pack of children, who all beam up at her, inviting her into their game immediately.
“She can be a right brat, but she’s very good with them,” MissBertram tells him once he’s closed the carriage door.
She offers her arm and he takes it, allowing her to lead him through the double doors into the maternity wing. “I believe you’ll head up to the second floor to find Dr.Holting,” she says, gesturing to a broad staircase with windows that overlook the courtyard. “And we’ll see you for boating tomorrow with Mr.Mason, yes?”
James forces himself to smile and squeeze her hand, even though the very thought of Bobby Mason turns his stomach to ice. He lets her walk away, watching as she heads for another set of double doors further down the hall. A tall, willowy woman in a voluminous white gown and a green apron steps out and immediately takes MissBertram’s arm.
“MissBertram, do come in. Little Martha has been asking for you. Come this way.”
James watches the doors swing shut behind them and stands there at the bottom of the stairs, unsure of how to react to all of it. To his cousin and her stepsister’s charged argument, Miss Bertram’s history with the Ashmond family—to the strange sense of remove that envelops him as he turns slowly and climbs the stairs.
He should know more about his cousin and her life, about the events of the previous season that everyone seems to allude to but never fully discuss. Why didn’t he ever ask his stepfather about his cousin and aunt? Was he so wrapped up in his own impending misery that it never occurred to him to check on the only other family he has left?
Even Bobby Mason has a better relationship with MissBertram than he does. But he’s not going to think about Bobby Mason today. He’s not going to think about the way that cracked, crestfallen look on Mason’s face pounded against his chest. He’s not going to think about the way he felt every ounce the pillock he’s always worried he is as he fled the Steton tea.
He has parliament work to do. Important things to accomplish, even if he didn’t volunteer for the duty. So he heads up the stairs, trying to banish all thoughts of Mason, of Lord Havenfort, of his cousin and her mother. And of the way that he feels disconnected from all of them, despite their constant and unnerving forced proximity.
***
“Did you have a good time boating with your cousin today, dearest?” his mother asks, forcing him to look up from his steak across the overlarge mahogany table the next evening.
“Um, yes,” he says slowly, grimacing a smile for his mother.
She looks tired, swimming in her ill-fitting gray gown. Not one of those she’s had altered so far this season, though she’s yet to attend any formal events. He would have just taken his meal in the kitchen, but he had the misfortune to return home just as his mother and stepfather were sitting down for one of their sullen dinners. Now Stepfather’s at the head of the table, as usual.
“If you’re wasting time courting, you may as well find some women who might actually marry you,” Stepfather grumbles around a full mouth.
“My cousin and Lady Gwen introduced me to some of their friends,” James says quickly, hoping to stall any talk of courting before his mother can get going on all her plans to have lovely young ladies over for dinner.
“Havenfort’s family will do you no favors. You ought to be chumming up to the conservative lords, poaching their daughters. We’ll need a good dowry to buy another townhouse.”
And now he wantsanothertownhouse, not just a different one. London is only sharpening his stepfather’s ambitions, and it makes James’ chest tight.
“How is Lady Havenfort?” his mother asks.
“She’s—” James starts.
“I heard from Lord Constance today that he’s making excellent inroads with the railroad companies. You might consider partnering up with him to help improve the legislation for land acquisition. Put us in good stead to get investment stock,” Stepfather says loudly, launching into a long rant about railroad stocks, plans, and the expansion in America.
James’ mother’s eyes lose what little sparkle they had when dinner began, and she looks down at her food, leaving James to hum at intervals for his stepfather. His whole day has been conversations taking place around him, not with him. Why should he imagine it would be any different at home?
It bothers him, this newfound unease with being ignored. In the country, he was fine living his own life, avoiding his stepfather and mother as much as possible while making himself useful as best he could in Epworth. But the way his cousin and Lady Gwen talked around him while they boated today seemed somehow pointed, and it’s eating at him.
It’s not only MissBertram and Lady Gwen who seem indifferent to James, either. The way Lord Mason and Lord Havenfort discuss so much in his presence but rarely actually engage him in conversation about the Medical Act speaks volumes. Though perhaps the information he gathered yesterday at the hospital could help with that.
The only person whohasactively tried to engage him is Bobby Mason, and James has gone and chased him off. He didn’t bother to show for their boating outing, and James can’t quite blame him. All he’s managed to do is insult the man. But he can’t seem to help it.
He knows, logically, that Mason is only trying to find something for them to have in common, but the way he’s been prying into James’ secrets, trying to get him to admit to things in plain daylight that he’s only ever told other men in the dark of night (if they spoke at all)... He doesn’t want to feel so exposed every time they talk, raw and strangely wanting.
With Raverson roaming around, he can’t risk becoming vulnerable or honest about... anything. Raverson knows too much already; James can’t give him more ammunition. He’s sure Mason will give up eventually and let him be.
“You wouldn’t believe what some of the men on Havenfort’s side get up to. Squiring their mistresses about with abandon—” Stepfather says.
